crossing to comox

when originally daydreaming about this trip, we wanted to head south down the island side, stopping in at comox along the way (primarily to meet a brand new baby, but also to take the kids to a place they recognize). the way the winds were acting on our first few days had made us reconsider this plan, but by thursday night the wind forecast called for reasonable winds on friday, so we decided to go for it.

we left the gorge early in the morning, though the sun was already well on its way up. creeping out from behind marina island, we headed south, parallel to our home island. we could see the cell tower that's close to our house, and though we thought of home, we had not an ounce of desire to head in that direction. the head sail was unrolled, it's royal purple edges bright in the morning light, and we continued south.

we passed the south end of cortes and crossed over to mitlenatch island. mitlenatch is a strange place; it always looks a different size and shape from a distance, sometimes even appearing to hover above the water. the tides that wrap around vancouver island from the north and south meet there, creating a unique ecological and weather zone. the island even boasts its own unique species of snake. it is a bird sanctuary, and permission is needed to go ashore.

since we started so early from cortes, aaron decided to drop anchor at mitlenatch for a quick breakfast stop. we snuck in between rocky shores covered in massive sea lions and sleek little harbour seals, plopping our anchor on the sandy bottom. breakfast was cooked to the tune of "arr arr arr" being bellowed by sea lions, accompanied by the cries of gulls and coos of smaller shore birds.

a calm, quiet breakfast at mitlenatch

we didn't stay a long. turning our back on the sunny shore, we headed back out the narrow entrance into the salish sea, leaving what would be the last calm waters of the day behind.

the wind forecast called for mild winds in the morning, increasing to 10-20 knots near mid day, then diminishing in the afternoon. twenty knots would be the maximum end of what we would choose to safely sail in, and we figured by mid day we could be well on our way to comox. and since the winds had diminished the afternoon before, we figured the waves would be minimal as well.

some of this was true. the wind was reasonable to begin with, as were the waves, but Rafiki is slow going upwind at the best of times. we were on a course heading essentially straight into the wind. for anyone who doesn't know much about sailing, you can't sail up into the wind directly. you have to tack back and forth on a 45 degree angle (at best) to the wind. that basically makes the distance twice that of the distance as the crow flies.

initially we crossed the strait in what seemed like no time flat, cruising along under blue skies and bright sun. sage was helping aaron at the helm (see the video gallery for this one, it's to die for!) while sid lounged about in the cockpit. however, we were still a ways above cape lazo, so we had to tack back out into the strait.

around mid day the wind did indeed increase, as promised. as the waves started to build along with the wind, we began to struggle. every time we dropped into the trough of a big wave, we would lose our momentum. the waves weren't gigantic, but being fully loaded plus Rafiki having much windage (high sides = being pushed by the wind) really slowed us down.

things started to get a little scrappy for us. i began to feel nauseous (as i knew i would, alas!), therefore i began to become useless. as the wind heeled the boat over, stuff started to tumble down below. books toppled off the shelf, pans came flying down from the stove, the nav station dumped its contents out... it was sort of mayhem! yet there was sid down below, doing a head stand on the settee, and sage playing with her stuffies on the floor amidst all the chaos (she did get bonked by a few books, but was unscathed overall! sorry girl).

chaos proper! just when we thought we had everything stowed....

they decided to listen to kids stories in the v-berth. the v-berth is the worst place to be if you feel nauseous, as it gets the most motion, and being below decks at all only increases discombobulation. however, there was nothing heavy to fly around up there, so it was a safe zone. the kids seemed fine and in good spirits, though they didn't ask for snacks and soon began to doze. i was surprised they hadn't said anything, but i was thankful to see they were comfortable and didn't need me!

we had to tack back out into the strait in order to clear the cape on our next tack. aaron gave me the helm for a bit and i began to feel better. over the course of the day i went through many spaces. in moments of nausea i questioned what we were doing, why we were doing it, and agonized over the distance between us and comox. in moments of wellness i felt like i could do this all day every day for the rest of my life.

i mulled many times over why we chose to do this on a boat. why sail to vancouver when we could drive there in half a day? why arrive at comox by boat when it's barely an hour from our door by car? the obvious answer was the spirit of adventure, but i felt there was more... something bigger picture... but i haven't landed on the answer just yet.

our tack back out gained us barely any ground on the cape. being way out there in the middle of the strait was feeling pretty heavy duty. i trust Rafiki, and i trust aaron, but i was beginning to think about a backup plan if we couldn't make it into comox harbour. i was beginning to wonder how long i could go feeling like garbage, having not eaten or drank a thing since breakfast. i was beginning to shake from cold, hunger, fatigue, dehydration, and nausea.

i must say though, i was still having fun, if you can believe it. we took many a salty splash in the face as the waves slapped against the hull, and took them laughing. the sun was shining on us, even though we could see rain where we were headed. the waves were a continually mesmerizing illusion, surfaces quivering in the gusts as they washed by in their oily, untraceable way.

aaron was certainly enjoying himself, feeling no nausea and grasping the wheel, his feet apart in a wide stance, riding the waves like he was born to do it. my hat was off to him on this crossing; not only did he command the vessel, he checked on the kids, tidied up the jumble of debris down below, dished out snacks, and looked out for me. i was mostly functional, but i didn't want to ruin moments of un-nausea by going below decks! I certainly appreciated his care and attention.

as we tacked once again towards cape lazo, i wondered if we gained any ground at all. one way to gauge movement is to observe parallax - the way objects move in relation to each other as the viewers perspective changes. that is to say i was watching the end of the cape in relation to what i could see behind it. it was taking f o r e v e r and a day, but we were making progress.

aaron was doubting if we were going to make it on this tack. he was considering whether or not we should make another pass back out (i cringed!), but suggested that the wind might shift as we came closer to land. and indeed it did. as we (finally) neared cape lazo, the wind shifted just enough to our advantage that we could see we were going to make it.

with that wind shift, however, came an increase in the wind again. on our way back in it had died down, making the ride and the swells more comfortable, but it picked up again with what felt like even more ferocity than before. the kids must have felt it because they awoke from their naps complaining of nausea. sid spent the last of the trip curled up in a ball on a bean bag in the cockpit, shrouded in a wool blanket and looking disgruntled.

we came around the cape into the bay, but we weren't done yet: we had to make our way around the comox bar. it sticks way out and is marked by three red buoys. the first is a large can with a bell of sorts on it, to sound for mariners in dark or foggy conditions. the second is a long skinny thing waving around on the water, and the thirds is a stubby, pointed cone rollicking about, leading the way into safe waters. since we were fighting the wind and the waves, we juuuuust made it by the markers, literally shaving the edge of safety. the first can i was worried we were either going to hit or have to swing inside of - they certainly give a safe buffer for marking the bar, but i wasn't thrilled at the prospect of being pushed towards shallow water, for obvious reasons.

i had been hanging on to one of the head sail sheets as support while the boat was heeled over, and only once we rounded the last buoy did i lessen my grip. as we turned into the harbour, the wind and waves were behind us, making the ride less intense, if a bit more rollicky. the motion of the boat got the best of sage as it changed - she made it this far, i was so impressed! - and she now wore the disgruntled look as we trundled into harbour.

we were planning to anchor out, being that we are both stingy and salty, but it was getting late and we figured the luxury of tying up at the govvy dock would go a long way. many large commercial vessels use that dock; not wanting to take up more space than necessary, aaron skilfully slipped Rafiki into a space just large enough to host us. it was a relief to feel safe and secure from the weather out there, at long, long last.

if this looks like a tight fit, that's because it is!

after twelve hours on the water and a bout with seasickness, our kids showed us just what champions they are. no sooner were we tied up to the dock than they were laughing and frolicking in the v-berth once again. since they were so good to us, we were good to them in turn, spoiling them with cinnamon-honey toast and after-dinner movies.

we learned a lot of things today that will guide future choices on this journey:

• aaron is the only one who doesn't get seasick; therefore we need to plan snacks and meals a little better for future crossings

• we need to work on storage security and remember to tie off loose or dangerous ends before setting out in heavy weather

• we won't make any long crossings upwind

• we should probably redistribute some of the weight on the boat

other than the seasickness and a bit of anxiety about the boats performance, it was a grand crossing and a powerful learning experience. now to see friends, meet a brand-new squishy baby, and enjoy some of the splendours of town: ice cream and firm gound!