We Are Home

We made it home save and sound. It was our longest day ever having logged 103 nautical miles in 14 hours and 45 minutes.

Our last night out was a great night. We anchored in Bamfield Inlet. Next, the all important task, was to make arrangements for our last supper with friends and new friends. We managed to find a pub that served the most delicious halibut and chips. Just what the tummy needs - deep fried food - before heading into the great swells of the Pacific Ocean.
It was a clear and starry night. Feeling how I have been feeling, I decided not to sleep in the cockpit. I thought it best to sleep in a bed to ensure the best night sleep before our long day.

We were up at the crack of dawn, rowed the dog to shore for a walk and piddle, then back to the boat to prepare for departure. Preparations include winching the dinghy on board the fore deck to tie it down. We also ensured our jack lines were secure to the boat, then it was up anchor at 0515. Did I tell you that it was foggy? Well it sure was. As were were buddy boating, we have radar, we have AIS, and a fog horn, we decided we could proceed as planned. At this point there was no wind in Bamfield Inlet.

As we round Cape Beale we commented that the swells were larger than predicted on the marine report. It took a bit to get into piloting Ta Daa to maintain course and feel the waves. The waves have the ability to skew your course so you need to steer the waves to maintain the preferred heading (the one plotted on the chart) to our destination. The marine report also said that the fog would burn off by noon. They lied!

We were travelling with Moon Shadow VI. They were less than one nautical mile away from us but we could not see them. Both boats have AIS so we can keep tabs on each other for location, course and speed. I will admit, it was very comforting.

At one point, Moon Shadow VI turned around but did not go anywhere. I spotted this on the plotter. We assumed two things: a) they were taking a nourishment break or b) they were bringing down the main sail. We tried to hail them on the radio. No answer. Now we are a bit worried. Ron and I looked at each other and just knew that we needed to pull in our sail and turn around. At this point we were three nautical miles ahead of Moon Shadow VI.

In the sail comes and we are off to the rescue. We are not sure of the situation but we are going to rescue our friends! I am at the helm, Ron is on the radio every few minutes to hail them. We also lost visual through AIS on the chartplotter. Now we are really worried! Still now answer via radio. As we approach, we observe that their main sail is down and their head sail is full of wind.

OK, what gives? Then we hear Ta Daa, Ta Daa, Ta Daa this is Moon Shadow VI, Moon Shadow VI, Moon Shadow VI. Ron speaks into the radio, this is Ta Daa let's go to 09. The radios are switched to channel 9. Moon Shadow VI asks us if everything is OK???. We said absolutely but we were worried because we could not contact via radio.

To make a long story shorter, we called them on channel 16 but their radio was on a different channel so they could not hear us. Only when they saw us coming at them did they switch to channel 16 to hail us.

Whew! All is well, thank goodness. We set Ta Daa back on course with head sail full in the wind.

Did I mention that we have wind and current pushing us down the Juan de Fuca? It was great! Did I mention that it is still foggy? Ron and I spell each other off every hour. Staring into fog can be boring and difficult. We were sailing and making our way by instruments only. You sure have to trust the instruments.

Since I am not feeling so well, Winston and I curled up and slept most of my time off.

As we neared Sooke the fog started to lighten somewhat. The wind had died down but the seas were still in our favour so we decided to carry on to Westbay. As we passed Race Rocks we could see towards Victoria. Out of the fog, finally. Could this be true. NO! A sea breeze kicked up and the clear view we had in front of us immediately fill in with fog. No problem we say.... sail onwards!

We did so in the thick fog. We set our course for Ogden Point. As we draw nearer to the entrance to Esquimalt Harbour we are hailed by HMCS Vancouver. They are a war ship doing manouvers right in front of us. We cannot see them on our radar; we cannot see them on AIS. I guess, being a war ship, they want to sneak up on people. Well it worked with us. Our systems - radar and AIS - work, they have the ability not to be seen.

We were asked to alter course to east, which we promptly did. They, in the meantime turned on their fog horn. It was a bit unnerving to hear it right beside us but not have a visual on the war ship. We were relieved when the fog horn was just a sound in the far distance.

I jokingly said to Ron, who was at the helm that for sure the Coho has to show up too! And it did. As we neared Ogden Point - about 10 minutes out - who emerges out of the fog and Victoria Harbour? You've got it - the Coho. Ron asked can there be anything else before we get in?

Suffice it to say that the last nine nautical miles were probably the most tense out of the whole 700 miles. We safely docked at 2000, securely tied Ta Daa, said hugged and greeted our neighbours and poured ourselves a scotch. We are home.

Stay tuned for some final thoughts.