OK, a little strong, but that's how we felt after Blain's bike was stolen as we were stuck babysitting a 32' powerboat that drug anchor into us.
But we'll back up.
Timing the gap in
Porlier Pass with the tides, the crossing of Georgia Strait was a perfect sail. 15-25 knots of wind on the beam the whole way. We sailed 20 of the 30 miles across.
Even though it doesn't look like it, Chance LOVES his new leecloth. Lovingly made by Mary Hannah Murphy in Shilshole, it keeps him in his berth when we heel over sailing.
Under the Burrard St. Bridge and into False Creek to anchor up for the week. We would get to cross this bridge several time on bikes over the course of our stay.
The skyline is much more asian than any other influence. Hundreds of new high-rise apartments have gone up in the last ten years, and all are beige concrete and green tinted glass in speculation for the 2010 Olympics.
These little water taxis are the lifeblood of the area and you can hail them from your boat for a ride. Note the hip floathouses in the background.
Anchoring in False Creek has it's benefits. The market at Granville Island is awesome.
Berries piled high.
And speaking of fruits.... Oops, did I say that? Sorry John.
We ran into John Reed - of sistership "Omega" fame in town. He was crewing aboard "LAtitudes", and we got to cocktail with him aboard a couple of times.
Our grocery runs were an excercise in space management. Loading the bikes aboard the dingy, then locking the dingy to the dock, we'd set out for the store. A run to Costco almost flattened our tires and sank the dingy, but it worked all the same. Who needs a Subaru? We'll call her the "Dingaru".
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So now for the eventful night.
We put the bikes together and rode around town on the weekend. Sunday night we locked them with a cable to the rack nearest the dingy dock at Monk's (a bar and restaurant). Intending to go back and apply our U-lock, we snuggled into a comfy bed instead.
Woken at 2:00am by Chance getting up, Blain got up to use the facilities. Mo, also hearing something pokes her sleepy head out the hatch and sees another boat, right on top of us. Slowly dragging anchor by, and no one aboard, we figured we'd best tied it to us to keep it from sailing through the anchorage and hitting someone else.
Luckily no damages were done, but having held the boat through the night and waiting for the owner's to return, we were ready to see it go away by the afternoon. Calling the Vancouver PD eventually launched a small armada our way. As the officers boarded it and were extricating our gear from their's, the unlucky owners showed back up to a police boating safety tongue-lashing.
Off they went, with just a weak-ass "thank you", probably mandated by the officers.
Finally free of the "ugly powerboat" as the cop/skipper said, we were able to go check on the bikes.
Bad news. Blain's is gone. Mo's connected by the same cable lock, was luckily still there. She's still a bit offended that they did like her's. So off to price bikes. Luckily we found about the Univ. of BC's Bike Kitchen. They refurbish bikes and re-sell them. Blain got a decent Kona with character and all new drive components for $475.
As the sun set, we knew we were in for a treat.
The fireworks were set to an asian beat, and were the most asymmetric and artistic display we had ever seen. The crowd was subdued by the almost hypnotic trance music and gorgeous arangements. It was truly unique and kudos to Vancouver for doing something way different.
Of course there were a few of the boring old huge explosions that rattle the windows, just for good luck.
