Sailing

     Sailing comes easier if a person has already learned boat handling basics
through power boating, at least that is how it worked for me. It started with dad renting
aluminum outboard skiffs from Sewell's in Horseshoe Bay. The fleet of boats improved
over the years until the rentals had wheel steering. Once a person can picture in his
mind how the rudder points in connection to how the boat reacts, the rest is easy. So by
the time I came to sailing, or did sailing come to me, I had been in Georgia Strait in
skiffs, up the coast in a 50' Fisheries boat, up numerous streams and rivers in a jet drive
river skiff, on Babine River and Lake in 30' wooden riverboats, on the Skeena River in a
cannery work boat, on Okanagan Lake in a log boom tow boat, and finally working a
lumber mill dozer boat to push log bundles to the lift.
     When we moved to White Rock, a good friend John Ford, owned a 41' ketch and
in return for some hours of labour we would go sailing. Ultimately, our crew won the
yacht club regatta on Semiahmoo Bay. Sailing that ketch was really a revelation, and a
great change from pounding along with a roaring engine. The boat did not have a lot of
electronics so sailing was done with the senses, watching the set of the tide and feeling
the apparent wind on your cheek or neck. There was no auto-pilot so we were always
trying to balance the sails to get her to sail herself. I was thirty then and still had the
energy needed to be constantly adjusting the rig. Another friend bought a 30 something
foot sloop from Brentwood Bay on the Island and we sailed her back to Port Moody in
the depths of a winter that saw snow even on the Gulf Islands. Brentwood Bay had a
skiff of ice when we left, from fresh water laying on top of the salt and freezing.
     We moved inland then and a growing family and having to make a living kept me
from the ocean for the next three decades until we reconnected with another old friend,
Doug Williams, with a 37' Jenneau and a tradition of cruises with us "old boys" started.
What a relief that was. There really is no other feeling like it when you get the sails up
and she heels to the wind and starts to accelerate. You can feel the power of the hull as
the bow lifts to the swell. There is no engine noise, just the chuckle of the wake being
left behind. Even in the rain, which sometimes happens on the coast, there is
satisfaction in the drumming of the rain on the deck and the sizzling of the drops into the
ocean around you.
     Brother-in-law Rob, and his wife Fran, live overlooking Cordova Bay and the
busy Haro Strait, between Vancouver Island and the U.S. San Juan Island. I can quite
happily spend hours watching the traffic on the water. The large commercial traffic in
and out of the Port of Vancouver must go by here. The smaller traffic comes closer,
tugs and their tows, crabbers pulling pots, and private craft of all shapes and sizes.
S.A.L.T.S., Sail and Life Training Society in Victoria, operate two schooners for the
purpose of introducing youths to the teamwork needed to successfully sail a large
vessel and the spirituality inherent in wind and sea power. Fortunately for us, the Pacific
Swift or the Pacific Grace will come around to anchor 500 yards from our windows for
their first night at sea. The green crew is separated into watches and begin to "learn the
ropes". Always a treat to watch a large vessel under sail come to anchor.