The Intrepid Mariner
There’s no question about it. The First Mate was not born to sailing. Though she has become what might be classified as an enthusiastic sailor, every step has been fought for and hard-earned. Where others exalt with a 25-knot wind screaming through the shrouds and think what a fine day it is for sailing, she quakes. She can get nervous just watching the America’s Cup Race on TV. Those boats careen through the water at angles that defy gravity and all common sense. The Captain maintains that her problem is just a lack of understanding due to the fact that she never took Physics. That’s right. She went through high school and university earning a Bachelor of Science Degree without ever taking a Physics course, and that feat was intentional. Physics has Laws, and, though they may make perfectly good sense on paper, in her physical world, they often do not. Therefore, she knew she should stay clear of any Physics course. That’s why she majored in Psychology. Did you ever hear of a Law of Psychology? — She rests her case knowing her common sense is perfectly intact. Thank you!
After much self-analysis, she has decided it is simply her hyper sensitive inner ear that is the cause of her sailing issues. Her overdeveloped sense of equilibrium needs to see the world as balanced and upright, and, like a phobia, things go awry when the ear gets pushed too far. However, she has been able to train and de-sensitize the ear somewhat, and, she can now watch the America’s Cup and enthuse with the sailors on the boats – glad that they’re there and she is secure and upright on her couch in front of the TV. Fortunately, The Captain has learned that we can sail quite happily and nicely together within her limits which have little to do with wind speed but everything to do with angle of boat tilt. Her ear seems to register every rock, every nuance of roll. She may not be able to do tell where the wind is coming from by feel, but she sure can tell which way we’re pitching and rolling. Most of the time she is okay with the motions of the boat. She feels one with it (kind of), but occasionally it gets the better of her.
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We have this instrument on the boat which measures the angle of boat heel. It’s called a Lev-O-Gage. She honestly does not need a Lev-O-Gage to tell her what angle the boat is at or how she feels about it. The Captain, being clever, calls it the “squawk meter”, because when the ball gets too far away from center, he hears loud squawking from the First Mate. He can call it whatever he wants, but, if he wants a responsive first mate and not a mutinous one, he had better listen to the “squawk” for which he named that meter.
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North of Port Hardy, we have a 50nm crossing of Queen Charlotte Sound ahead of us. Like Seymour Narrows, the books have nothing good to say about this crossing, as it can be treacherous and uncomfortable. We have reached the northern end of Vancouver Island and will lose the protection from the open ocean that the island has provided. The next leg across Queen Charlotte Sound is exposed directly to the ocean. We will have to cross the open water of the sound and round Cape Caution (There must be good reason for that name!) before getting back into the protected waters of the Inside Passage. For days preceding our anticipated crossing, strong winds have been blowing across the sound. She is not a happy camper. The “squawk meter” is about to go into overdrive.
Wednesday, June 6th – In anticipation of today’s crossing, it was another restless night for The First Mate. Wind forecasts are showing 15 – 18 knots out there in the sound. The morning is overcast and foreboding with a light drizzle. The temperature is quite cool at 50 degrees. Another day at the marina in Port Hardy is starting to look good. “We’re going!” says The Captain. Unfortunately, he’s right. The weather forecast shows another front coming, and this is as good as it is going to get for a while.
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Leaving Port Hardy, we motor down several channels, passing islands on the way to Queen Charlotte Sound. Winds gust to 21- 27 knots, already well above that lying forecast, but she is told that it’s because we are in a funnel created by the islands. The Captain does not want to raise sail yet, because the direction of the wind is right on the bow. Also, he has enough going on at the moment, navigating us around islands, rocks and shoals in the light rain and low visibility.
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When we finally reach Queen Charlotte Sound, the First Mate goes below to add more layers of clothes. Bad mistake. The wind has lessened a bit, but the boat is rolling with the heavy ocean wave swells. Being below decks in a rolling boat is not a good condition for anyone’s seaworthiness, but she is now learning that it is a killer for her body. Seasickness hits like never before. The ear has gone berserk. The Captain keeps telling her to get up on deck. She knows that. Get on deck, look at the horizon, get the wind blowing across you. She knows all that, but how can she do that when she can’t even lift her head up, and her eyeballs feel like they are rolling around in their sockets? The dizziness defeats every effort to stand. She crawls to the head and is soon hugging the porcelain. How thankful she is that she is paranoid about cleanliness on a boat!
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Oh, what a miserable day it was! If she could have helped to raise the sail and put in the reefs, having the sail up would have decreased the rolling around in the swells. In these conditions, The Captain does not want to rely on the autopilot to hold the boat into the wind while he climbs out of the cockpit to raise the mainsail. It would be much different if he had a functioning crew, but she cannot help. She cannot escape the head long enough to get up the stairs. Her world is swimming. It is so bad that she cannot even groan. If the boat were to suddenly hit a rock and sink, she would go down without complaint. She is unwell totally and completely. So much for the intrepid sailor!
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We finally make it across Queen Charlotte Sound into the calmer waters of the Inside Passage in the late afternoon. Slowly, a desire to live returns. There’s hope rising anew. The Captain is heading for the first available anchorage. Though it isn’t a very pretty one, he figures his crew has had enough. The First Mate actually has managed to crawl up on deck and is suggesting that she is okay to press on another hour to another anchorage which is supposed to be much nicer.
We end up in Green Island Cove which proves to be one of the prettiest and coziest anchorages we have been in so far. There is a hump of land covered with spreading bushy shrubs sprinkled with tiny white flower buds. Not having seen anything like this in our travels up here, we wonder how those shrubs took hold right there on that mound of land. Everywhere else is densely covered with forest. It seems like such an anomaly, but it is all perfectly beautiful and just the soft touch this battered body of hers needs after one hell of a day!
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She has learned her lesson – two really. 1: The anti-seasickness cocktail our friend Bob Trenary uses: 2 Bonine and 1 NoDoz an hour or so before sailing worked on the trip north from San Diego. It will work again. She needs to anticipate rough sailing and take those meds. 2: Don’t ever go down below in heavy seas and attempt to change clothes! She was down there way too long taking off her storm gear leggings to pull on another layer of fleece. That was the proverbial kiss of death. Never, ever, again will she do that!
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Comments from the previous blog site are transferred over below:
Purebliss said: Oh my, I was seasick with you, Sue. Bishop Bay Hot Springs sounded like the best medicine! Happy Birthday Captain…belated but beloved!June 26, 2007 at 5:49 PM
Berlin said: Nane and Poppy, I hope you’re having fun. Thanks for all of the postcards. I miss you. Love, Berlin
Fleming, Tom and Marilyn said: Sounds like a great trip except for the crossing!June 29, 2007 at 7:42 PM