Day 12

Today, we were originally going to do a short inside hop around into the Broughton Archipelago, maybe stopping off at lagoon cove, where we had a great experience with Northern Passage in 2012, but instead, since we were feeling so good about Johnstone Strait after yesterday’s sail, we decided to just sail straight up all the way to Sointula.

            The sail started fine, we got underway half an hour after Tarani, and once we were in Johnstone we raised the main and #2 Jib and killed the engine in about 10-15 knots of wind from the NW. We sailed, doing long tacks across the straight, for a few hours, during which I got extremely angry and frustrated with Ron, who was working perfectly two days ago, but now suddenly refused to work. After much cursing and a few accidental tacks, I gave it up and just sailed on, but not before becoming snappy and irritable, which in tern translated to mom, and spoiling the mood. However, nothing helps an argument like getting mad at someone else, and the perfect opportunity came when a motor cruiser nearly ran us down.

            The boat, Otava, a small motor cruiser with a one-story cabin, was bearing down on us, and showing no intentions of altering course, which he was obligated to do as we were under sail and it was in no way restricted waters. As he drew closer, we tried to hail him, but couldn’t make out the name, and got no response. Eventually, we had to luff up in order to let him pass, and as he did I had a clear sight into the bridge, where there was nobody even keeping a watch.  As he passed we could see his name, and that he was, of course, American, but did not hail him because the Coat Guard was speaking to a boat in distress, and we did not want to interrupt. Little were we to know tat this brush-in, combined with another similar call later, would have the entire cruising band we had formed in Port Harvey believing we had been hit and sunk.

            Shortly after this encounter, the wind started to die away, and eventually we had to give into the thirsty beast crouching over the transom, ready to pounce as soon as the sails start to flap, and started the engine. We motored for most of the rest of the trip, until just as we were leaving Johnstone strait and making the turn for Sointula, where the wind started to pick up until it was 15-20 knots and we were motor sailing under jib and reefed main. About this time the drizzle that had been intermittently causing us to either put on or take off our foul weather gear finally turned into a real rain, ad the next few miles were needless to say very wet and cold.

            After only an hour or two of sailing, the wind started to die again, and this is where the biggest mix-up occurred in which one of our friends got so worried that they actually called the Coast Guard asking after us. It started easily enough, we were about to tack across the channel, and there were three fishing vessels approaching, and it looked like we’d be going straight through the middle of them. I wasn’t too concerned; as fishermen are usually much more courteous to sailboats that some American motor cruisers are, but just as a precaution I tried to hail them on 16 to let them know I was headed their way and make sure that they saw us. We called a few times, and were about to just let it rest, when the coast guard butted in telling us to go to 71, and as we were about to switch, one of the fishing vessels answered our call. In the next few minuets there was some confusing radio chatter in which we confirmed that we were not in distress and merely wanted to make sure that the fishing vessels were aware of our intentions, then explained this to the fishermen, before continuing on our way, arriving in Sointula in late evening without using the radio again.

            We only learned two days later, when we went over to Port McNeil to top off gas and pick up dad, and bumped into Pairadice and Sea Badger, who told us of the confusion. As far as I understand it, Sea Badger picked up on one or both of our radio conversations and though that we had called the coast guard about Otava, then had gone silent, at which they had become concerned that we might have been run down and called the Coast Guard, spreading the news that we were in some kind of trouble. In the end though, there was no harm done, and it was very heartening to know that there are so many people out there looking out for us. The whole scenario serves as just one more example of the amazing sense of community among cruisers.