Vancouver - City of Lovely Ren and Nick and Some Nefarious Booger-butts

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.

South Again??!?...

When the temp rises to 90... ...the cold water swimming looks more inviting.
Shortly after this photo, Chance met his first seal. A pup, noisily missing his mom, swam right up to us. Chance lept into action and plowed down the rocks. We yelled to get him to leave it be, but he ignored us and walked right up to it to touch noses. Satisfied that it was just a waterlogged dog, Chance wandered back to us at his own pace as the little pup swam away.

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Speaking of Chance. Here's a shot of him in Pirate's Cove Lagoon south of Nanaimo. The cove has a veerrry strange and interesting history, but also a fun treasure chest. Cruisers left the chest and folks can take something and leave something.

Chance took a stuffed fish and left a stuffed starfish that we'd found in Olympia, and he never played with. He's a bit of a snob for vertebrates, it would seem.

Our hero, upon entering Dodd Narrows (our first real serious tidal narrows) hoping the pirate bandanna will give his ship luck. We made it, though we realized we were a bit on the late side for the tide swing, where slack water only lasts a few minutes. The 3-4 knot current, pushy boaters, and tugboats pulling massive log rafts choked the 100 yard wide gap, making this a tricky and stressful passage. Note the "I'm not worried" look upon circling back a time or two.

If you click this photo, you'll see what I mean.

This is what it can look like, and isn't a place to be late getting through. Our second run was clogged with grumpy boaters, but luckily log-free.

Nanaimo - and a special visit

Nanaimo - a blue collar city with a silly boat habit.

But first, a little aside. We met up with a Peter Briggs's mother, Chriss in Nanaimo. She treated us royally with a gorgeous spread of baked halibut with all the fixings, homeade desserts, and a really fun conversation. We also loved seeing Peter B's baby pictures...

Here's a photo of Peter. I didn't think I could safely post anything embarassing from the 70s of him. We are grateful for some "mom" time. Thank you Chriss!

The next day we toured the Cathedral Grove park with her and walked among the giants.

The old growth forest is truly a special place, and we're glad Nanaimoans (?) have a bit so close to town to cherish. Many of these huge trees are 800 years old, but the most wonderful quality these forests have is the layered and broken canopy. The floor is as vibrant as the roof, and sunlight streams in to feed all manner of growing things. This light is surprising to many who have only wandered in second-growth forests.

Speaking of nature (and we do often), we spotted an old friend from Anchorage. This Hudsonian godwit was feeding in an estuary with a flock of killdeer. What it was doing this far south at this time of year we have no idea - perhaps holding tank issues, too.

A few nights anchored out in Nanaimo were a little rough. Here's an attempt at capturing the lights at night.

Our final night in Nanaimo, we were plowed into by a 1929 60 foot wooden troller "RomanceII", when it drug anchor in a windy blow. Aside from seeing the owner in his tighty-whiteys at 2:00am, we emerged unscathed. Oystercatcher is a tough little boat, we are learning. We really smacked, and it probably could have been a lot worse.

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Aside from that, the anchorage in Newcastle Island was very enjoyable with 65 deg. water to swim in, old quarries and coal workings, and miles and miles of trails to explore.

Back to the sights of Nanaimo. We loved this trail sign. Probably a good idea to read and obey this one...

Here's the cannon crew at the Bastion getting ready to fire.

We were very lucky to have hit the town for the "silly boat" races. Competitors must assemble the boats in the morning and race in the afternoon. As you can see, it was a major event and spectacle.

Most floated, but some, like this creative design, failed completely.

You can see that some were probably thought up in bars. But others, particularly this human-powered paddleboat with a lot more forethought, were truly yare little craft.
In our wanderings, we came across a fellow that we felt like we knew. The father of the "silly boat" race is someone that would fit in well in Spenard. Mr. Whitekeys would feel the kinship. That he was given a bronze sculpture in their gorgeous saltwater park is a testament that Nanaimo residents take their fun seriously.