Lasqueti Island to Comox

Morningstar's Journal (False Bay, Lasqueti Island)

It’s almost a relief to see morning arrive. It brings to a close a seemingly endless night. But it is hard to face another day of passage… every part of my body rebels. My head hurts, my stomach hurts, I am cold and tired and food has no appeal. Am I coming down with the flu? We discuss whether to remain here at False Bay for a day, or go on to Comox as planned. The weather forecast is favorable, so common sense suggests that we continue on. But my body begs for a rest … and when I had come on deck this morning, the sight of three circling eagles, a wind generator and solar panels on shore, and a bearded man waving to us from an aluminum skiff, tempted us to stay and explore Lasqueti Island for a day or two. It has possibilities. But fate has other plans.

Now I glance at the red boat that we are using as a marker. “Are we drifting closer to that boat or is it my imagination?” I ask Bob. “I was noticing the same thing,” he says, “I think we’re dragging anchor again. We’re going to have to pull up and go.” Unexpectedly the wind and chop is picking up. It is January, with all the unpredictability that winter can bring. We will have to act quickly before conditions close down and we are unable to leave. An open bay without good holding is no place to be with a storm coming in.

I pull on my foul weather jacket and take the helm while Bob tries to operate the windlass. But it keeps slipping. “Put the engine in neutral and come forward. We’ll have to pull in the anchor chain together.” In the frigid winter air we work; I step on the deck windlass control, while Bob pulls in the anchor chain inch by inch… stop, go, stop, go. He loosens the chain when it jams and we start again… stop, go, stop, go.

Though I shiver from the biting cold, Bob pulls off his jacket and tosses it onto the deck. Lightly dressed in a green flannel shirt and jeans, he hauls in 300-feet of chain and a 60-pound anchor. Once underway, Bob tells me to go below and get warm. Willingly I go… I do not feel well. After depositing the cats where each will be most comfortable, I curl up on the sea berth, fully clothed in my foul weather gear and wool knit cap, and huddle under the satin comforter for warmth.

Bob’s Account:

The crossing from Lasqueti to Comox on Vancouver Island is essentially a straight-line course of about 20 nautical miles across open water. Morningstar is not feeling well and after calming Bustopher (he panics) and cleaning up after Sammy (he gets seasick), she sleeps off and on during the passage. We had established the route the night before and entered it into the onboard computer. Our location is constantly being determined by GPS and marked on a moving chart display that gives the range, bearing, and estimated time of arrival at Comox. It really is pretty wonderful. So I ignore it and steer by compass and dead reckoning. We have a heavy following sea and make a swift passage, but a storm front is approaching and we need to make the shelter at Comox Harbor.

… to be continued