Saturday, July 11: Day 38: Heading for Whaling Station Bay Today
⛵ A Day of Two Bays: Rocky Mornings, Forgotten Propane, and a Very Damp Ride
☀️ NEXT MORNING UPDATE
We finished our morning coffee and prepared to pull up the anchor, planning to head over to Whaling Station Bay. However, we noticed a couple of other boats had slipped into Little Tribune Bay before we woke up—a powerboat and a sailboat. The sailboat caught our eye because it was sitting perfectly still and wasn't rocking at all. Deciding to follow their lead, we changed plans and headed over to join them.
Once we got over here, we realized the hilarious truth: that sailboat is anchored so close to the shore that it’s actually sitting right on the bottom! No wonder it wasn’t rocking!
Still, it is much calmer in this corner, so we are going to enjoy our avocado toast and see what the day brings. The move was well-timed; in the last ten minutes alone, the wind has varied wildly from 6 up to 15.6 knots. We’re finding that it’s not so much the wind that’s bothersome out here, but the waves.
Next up, we might take Big Mack to the shore to see if we can find a trail leading into the village. Little Tribune sits right next door to Tribune Bay, divided by just a sliver of land, but it offers a world of difference in protection from the open water.
🥾 AFTERNOON UPDATE: Shoreside Missions
We decided to take Big Mack to shore, so Greg assembled her three-piece electric motor, grabbed the empty propane tank, and tossed his rubber boots into the dinghy. I wore what I thought were appropriate shoreside shoes: my Keen sandals paired with linen sockettes. Topped off with my trusty yellow puffer jacket, we were ready to go.
On the way in, Greg dropped the dinghy wheels into the water so he could click them into place the moment we hit the shallows. Despite the wheels, I still had to strip off my shoes and socks to help him haul Big Mack out of the surf and as far up the beach as possible. The tide was coming in—and while it still had a long way to go, we had no idea how long we’d be gone. Once we were clear of the water, I realized I had nothing to dry my feet with. I tried using my socks to brush the wet sand off, which worked about as well as you’d expect, but it was better than nothing! Shoes and sandy socks back on, I walked across the beach to ask a young couple who had ridden their bikes there if they knew of a path to get to the village. They didn't know of one, but they pointed us in the direction of the parking lot where the road was. We trekked to the parking lot at the far end of the beach, hit the road, and walked into the little village of Hornby.
The village center is a wonderful, cozy little square where everything is close together. We started with lunch at a little spot where we grabbed a couple of delicious salads packed with all kinds of organic herbs and flowers, topped with some perfectly spicy chicken. Right next door was a clothing boutique where a shirt caught my eye hanging up, so I decided to buy it for Greg.
Next up was the main mission: the propane tank. The co-op originally told us it would take a couple of hours to get it filled. Knowing the clock was ticking, Greg and I explained our situation—that we were at anchor and might need to move the boat quickly depending on what the wind decided to do. They were incredibly accommodating and bumped us up to a half-hour wait! We thanked them profusely for the help and headed over to the grocery store area to kill some time.
Outside, a couple was selling raffle tickets for a beautiful handmade quilt. We couldn't resist buying a few tickets—the draw is in September, so fingers crossed! We ended up getting into a great conversation with them about local invasive species and island life, which naturally built up an appetite for ice cream. We popped into the shop next door and treated ourselves to a cone.
Before heading back to collect the tank, I had that nagging feeling that we were forgetting something from the grocery store. I couldn't remember what it was for the life of me, so I suggested we just walk the aisles to see if anything jogged my memory. It worked! We walked out with peanut butter, organic bananas, coffee, and popcorn. Good thing, too—we only had one more night's worth of popcorn left. We also drink our coffee half-decaf, and it was the caffeinated side of our blend that was running dangerously low. Skipping that morning kick is simply not an option!
🌊 THE RETURN: A Wet, Splashy, Edge-of-Your-Seat Ride Back
After heading back to the co-op to pick up our filled propane tank, we started the walk back down the road toward the beach. Greg, to put it mildly, found carrying that heavy tank rather annoying. We had two bags with us to help offset the weight—I had his new shirt in my backpack, and he carried the bag of groceries—but the tank handle had a sharpish edge that he swore he’d be filing down the second we got home. To make matters worse, the tank kept bashing right against his phone in his left pocket. He had to stop every once in a while to switch hands just to give his phone and leg a break. Fortunately, the walk didn't feel too bad for me!
We finally made it back to the parking lot where there was an outhouse (thank goodness). After a quick pit stop, Greg got me to carry the grocery bag, and we hoofed it across the beach to the far side where Big Mack was parked.
We honestly couldn't believe how much the tide had come in while we were gone. There was very little beach left to drag the dinghy, and the waves were significantly larger than when we had arrived. The bay had totally transformed. Looking out, Little Tribune Bay was now showing some whitecaps.
We placed everything carefully into the dinghy. Greg rolled up his pants and donned his rubber boots, while I rolled up my pants, stripped off my Keens and socks, and helped pull Big Mack into the surf. Looking at the waves, I couldn't help but wonder what the ride back was going to be like. To be completely honest, we had forgotten our PFDs. I chose not to mention it out loud and just hoped for the best—sometimes you just don't want to think about those things when there's nothing you can do about it except stay completely focused on the task at hand.
I was incredibly grateful we had our little 2.5 hp Torqeedo electric motor on the dinghy and that it was working flawlessly. It got us through the rough water much quicker than I expected. Being in the bow, I took the brunt of it—every time a big wave splashed against the hull, I got a little wetter, and our bags began to sit in an inch of saltwater. Greg was an absolute trooper, navigating us safely back to Lil' Ollie. Right then, she truly felt like our mother ship; I felt so incredibly protected the moment we made it into her cockpit.
Despite us bobbing around crazily, I managed to get Big Mack tied up to the stern, and then hopped up through the boarding gate. Greg handed up all the soggy gear from the bottom of the dinghy, climbed aboard, and turned off the motor, leaving it in place. My pants and yellow puffer jacket were almost totally soaked, though the jacket had thankfully protected my upper body from the worst of the chill. Strangely enough, only one of my Keens was wet—the other was completely dry! Heading into the cabin to put on nice, warm, dry clothes was pure heaven. I had literally been picturing that exact moment the entire ride back.
⚓ WEIGHING ANCHOR: Rounding the Island
Once we were both dry and settled, we looked at each other and decided to pull up anchor and get out of there. We had done everything we wanted to do on Hornby, and we were ready to move on to a safer spot.
We motored for about an hour around the east side of the island to Whaling Station Bay. It’s not a large bay, but it offered much better protection from the current southwest wind and waves. Of course, the wind is forecasted to flip around to the northwest again tomorrow night, but for now, this was the right call.
Getting out of Tribune Bay and around the jut of land was a real fight against the waves. We were initially only making 3.5 knots at 2500 RPM's, so I bumped them up to about 3000. That brought our speed up to 4.5 knots, and we finally rounded the corner.
Just as we cleared the bay, we saw a wall of rain coming down over on the starboard side. Greg quickly unrolled the starboard canvas panel that had been rolled up from a previous trip, sealing us in. By the time the rain actually hit us during our transition to the other side, we were all safe, dry, and sound inside our protected cockpit.
The change was instant—the wind and waves dropped significantly the moment we got to the other side.
We dropped the anchor in about 23 feet of water and let out 100 feet of rode. The moment the anchor held, a massive wave of relief washed over the boat. Greg looked at me and said, "Put on the kettle and let's have hot chocolate and rum!"
So I did, and we did. Even Artemus was much happier, looking around a bit surprised that things had suddenly gotten so gentle again.
🍫 EVENING UPDATE: Cozy Deficiencies and Movie Marathons
While we drank our hot chocolate and rum, we settled in to watch a few more episodes of The Resident. It was pouring rain outside, and while having the canvas enclosure in place made the cockpit incredibly cozy, we remembered again a little flaw in our maintenance: that starboard panel hadn't received quite enough waterproofing treatment before we left, so it was dripping a bit. It ended up raining most of the night, stopping and picking up again in waves while we slept.
Backing up a bit to dinnertime, Greg took a break from our show marathon to play chef. He whipped up a fantastic meal: yummy Italian sausage, fresh asparagus, and some of the mixed rice we had just bought at the Costco in Comox the other day. We topped dinner off with half an organic banana each and a Fudgsicle bar—the very last of the six-pack that Paulette and Art had given us to take to the boat. (Though it's an important liveaboard note that we still have a backup pint of Häagen-Dazs ice cream in the freezer!).
While Greg was cooking, I kept busy working on my blog writing. Once the dishes were cleared, we got right back to The Resident, but I kept falling asleep—it's that rum, you know! So, around 11:00 PM, we finally crawled into bed on a beautifully calm sea. What an absolute pleasure after the night before!
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