Hornpipe's first big adventure

[AJZimm]

Since launching my Kurylko Alaska, “Hornpipe”, last August, I’d only had it out on day sails in protected waters near Victoria, BC. This summer was the first chance to go farther afield, to learn more about the boat and what it was capable of, and to use it more in the way in which I intended when I built it. I decided to enter it in the annual Silva Bay Shipyard RAID http://www.shipyardraid.ca/ . This multi-stage race for rowing and sailing boats starts in Silva Bay on Gabriola Island in British Columbia and ends in Heriot Bay on Quadra Island, some 103 nautical miles (as the crow flies, not as the boat tacks) later. I also decided I would launch the boat 3 days earlier nearer home and row and sail it up to Silva Bay.

Launched at Sidney, BC, on the morning of Wednesday, July 8th, not as soon as I would have liked, in a steady rain and flat calm. The horizon was low and the landmarks like Mt Baker that would be visible on a clear day were invisible. What I could see was the layered effect of a typical rainy west coast day – the nearer landmarks clear, each island or object farther away a little more indistinct until all is lost in the grey. Objective for the first day was Montague Harbour on Galiano Island, 16nm away. Not too many other boaters out that morning except those who had to be because of their work – ferries, tugs and barges, crew boats.
The first test was stemming the ebb tidal current in the “Little Group” Islands just north of Sidney. Couldn’t do it rowing against the current in the first opening I tried and had to find a smaller opening and work the eddies. Finally made it but painfully slowly. Next milestone was getting past Portland Island, which is a marine park. Lots of boats in the favoured anchorage as I rowed past but no one was venturing out in the rain. By this time it was getting on for lunch. Couldn’t afford to stop for long as the tide was still driving me back so grabbed bites of the sandwich between strokes. Saw some Harbour Porpoises as I was eating lunch. They’re shy creatures that spend very little time on the surface and their blow makes very little sound. You have to be up close and it has to be quiet in order to hear it.
The rain finally quit as I started coming abreast of Saltspring Island and the tide was beginning to turn in my favour. Was making better progress but it was nearly 1530 by the time I got to Captain Passage alongside Prevost Island – only 10 miles of the required 16 for the day. But, fortune was in my favour as a light southerly breeze began to rise and within 20 minutes I had all sail set and was broad reaching across the top of Prevost Island and into Trincomali Channel. The wind held right to the dinghy dock at the marine park.
Tied up at the dock for the night as it was just as cheap as picking up a mooring and cheaper than camping ashore. I rigged my tarp-and-batten cover over the boat for the first time and, once the dinghy traffic abated, settled in for the night.

[htom]

Yes, please, more!

[Thorne]

Excellent Adventure!

[J. Dillon]

Keep going but post some pics ... please.

JD

[AJZimm]

Pictures of Hornpipe at the dock in Montague Harbour

[Thad]

Beautiful!! Cheers! Nice cover.

[AJZimm]

Thursday

Woke the next morning at dawn to the prehistoric squawk of a Great Blue Heron as he came gliding in to the dock for his breakfast of small fish he could spear from the dock. Last night’s wind had gone. The tarp worked OK to keep the dew off but moved around more in the wind puffs than I anticipated. Made breakfast (Red River Cereal – a stick to your ribs kind of Canadian porridge) and ground the beans for my coffee. I’m willing to put up with a lot of hardships while sailing/kayaking/hiking but bad coffee isn’t one of them.

I packed up and rowed away from the dock by 0800. Ebb tide and calm conditions were the story again for the morning. I knew at some point I wanted to cross over to the opposite side of Trincomali Channel in order to avoid being drawn in to the tidal flow and turbulence of Porlier Pass. This happened to Spanish explorer Dionisio Galiano in the summer of 1792 when he was exploring the area, and I didn’t have a motor either so was subject to the same forces. However, I began to cross too soon and was caught in a strong current and began to be swept backwards. I had to cross back over close under the cliffs of Galiano Island and work the eddies. I made much better progress and actually found a quiet micro-bay under a cliff to stop for lunch. Carried on after lunch and crossed the channel towards Wallace Island. By this time the clouds had largely broken up and the day was turning hot.

Progress along Wallace Island seemed painfully slow but at length a breeze blowing in through Porlier Pass made itself felt and I was able to raise sail. I was soon belting along at 5 kts on a beam reach, hiked out on the rail. The breeze grew stronger and gustier as I got opposite the Pass and I had to reef the main. Past the pass, however, the breeze gradually died away and, although the boat ghosts along on almost no wind, eventually there was none so it was back to the oars on a glassy hot sea. My preferred destination of Pirates Cove on DeCourcy Island was still 5 miles away. As I sweated my way past a beautiful becalmed Atkin sloop from Gig Harbour, Washington, they offered me a tow, as they were going that direction on their way to the afternoon slack at Gabriola Passage. I’d been rowing on and off for 7 hours by that point and a new set of blisters was forming, so in a weak moment, I accepted the tow.

In another hour, they were casting me adrift outside the cove on the south side of DeCourcy. I rowed in to the beach, unloaded my gear and set up the boat on the clothesline mooring system I had worked out. I was a little nervous about it, being the first time I had used it, but it went fine. It took longer than I thought and while I was absorbed in setting it up, the rising tide engulfed a few of my bags that I hadn’t set far enough up on the beach. I discovered that the dry bags that holds my charts, an old one, isn’t as a watertight as I thought it was. No real harm done though, and the affected charts soon dried. I set up camp ashore and, aside from raccoons investigating my drybags at dusk, passed a quiet night. Took no pictures this day as I was too busy rowing and sailing and in the evening, discovered I’d left the camera on the boat and was too tired to go down and haul it in again.

[AJZimm]

Friday morning and the critical timing for the day was to arrive at Gabriola Passage at slack at 1230, as it can run more than 6 kts at full flood and ebb. It was only 4 miles away so no particular rush. Packed up the camp, hauled the boat in and unrigged the mooring. I rowed across Pylades channel to investigate the sandstone formations on Valdes Island. The formations occur all along here and are the result of differing hardnesses in the rock reacting to rain, wind and sea. They make the most fantastic shapes, scoops and hollows and trellises. As I got closer, I could see swallows swooping around and into nests they had built in the pockets.
By this time a north wind had started to come up. As I was not in a hurry, I rigged the mizzen sail only in the centre position. This proved to be a better move than I knew as the wind coming over the south end of Gabriola Island from the Straight of Georgia picked up and became quite gusty. In the gusts, the mizzen was enough sail.
Soon, a steady parade of powerboats started to head for the passage. I don’t know what it is about large displacement powerboats and their wakes. I suspect that half of them truly have no clue about how much wake they drag behind and what effect this has on small boats and the other half know and don’t care. Regardless, they were the bane of my existence the rest of that morning. I swear some of these boats were dragging tsunamis behind them. However, aside from a little water shipped over the gunwales, no real harm was done.
Getting close to the pass and close to slack, I tucked in behind a log boom moored to the shore to escape the wind and wakes and had my lunch. Then it was out and into the last of the ebb for slack at the pass. The wind was blowing stiffly straight across the pass and here I discovered that the boat wants to weathercock into this much wind. I am at a loss to explain why, as, if anything, the bow ahead of the rowing station presents more windage than the stern. I got through it by rowing more on one side and then lashing the rudder to give me a counteracting force.
Silva Bay is only a mile or so in protected channels past the pass, so I was soon into the bay. It had been decades since I was last there by boat and it has gotten a lot more crowded, with anchored boats nearly filling the bay. After a couple of false tries, I found the marina that the raid starts from and the designated float for the raid boats.
One of the other raiders, Jan and Scotty, were there in their Wayfarer dinghy, getting things shipshape. My introduction to Scotty was to the top of a wetsuit and snorkel – he was cleaning the bottom, although he was later accused of waxing the bottom to gain a speed advantage!





As the afternoon wore on, the other raiders began to arrive, Cameron and Nigel from Whitehorse in another Wayfarer, both Mower Dories belonging to the Shipyard School, Pt Townsend sea scouts in the longboat Bear, Kent, Washington seas scouts in the skin on frame Umiak, Tuvaaq. Rounding out the sail fleet was Ratty, a gaff ketch designed for raiding by Tad Roberts and crewed by Trevor and his 3 very young sons, Grayling, a Drascombe Longboat crewed by Damien from Bowen Island and his buddy Jack from the UK, and finally Tart, a heavier Brewer cat boat, built at the Shipyard School, in the cruising class.



Finally, the most remarkable boat and crew had to be the other single-hander, Colin in his 1930’s handliner Bus Bailey (named after the original owner). There were once hundreds of these boats on this coast in the 20’s and 30’s, fishing salmon from handlines. It is double ender about 14 ft long, about 4 feet wide and about 200 pounds. Colin normally rows it to work and back in Nanaimo about an hour each way. What Colin can do with that boat has to be seen to be believed. He puts everything he has into it and moves it at nearly 4 kts. Downwind, he puts up a little lug sail behind him and keeps rowing and moves it even faster. He can keep this up all day. All this I was to discover later, though.
The day ended with supper on the dock for all the raiders and a chance to get to know the other crews and talk about the upcoming raid. Many crew were repeat offenders, so the stories of past raids and weather and incidents abounded. For my part, my main motivation was to finish and finish safely. I was under no illusions that I would be competitive with an untried boat and a single-handed crew.

[Ian McColgin]

Finastkind.

[StevenBauer]

This thread is shaping up nicely. Carry on.


Steven

[switters]

great pics, great boat, great writing, more more more please.

[Bob Triggs]

Thanks so much for sharing all of this.

[AJZimm]

Saturday
Saturday and day one of the Raid. The battery on my elderly digitial camera chose this day to die, so I have no more pictures that I took. The day’s destination was a relatively short 11 nm along Gabriola Island to Pilot Bay at the north end. The wind was still from the northwest, but it had dropped in strength a little. I was still a little apprehensive, never having raced the boat before and not at all sure how the boat would perform upwind with the chop that was sure to be running outside the bay. The start line was inside the bay, between the anchored boats in the bay. With the long straight keel on my boat, it isn’t likely to win any tacking duels in close quarters, so I rowed out of the bay into open water. I was still nervous about the wind and was way too cautious about sail area to start – not putting up enough. By the time I shook out reefs and realized that I could, in fact, carry all sail if I hiked out on the rail, I started making good progress to windward but I had likely lost nearly an hour.

The day wore on with successive tacks on and off shore in the brilliant sunshine. Closing the shore, I could see people beachcombing, sitting and generally just enjoying the weather at the sea side. Late in the afternoon, I reached the passage between Entrance Island, with its iconic lighthouse, where Gabriola Island turns to the northwest for the run into Pilot Bay. At that point, the wind picked up and the sea got lumpy and I really did have to reef down. I found that with the reefed sails and the confused, lumpy sea in the pass, I simply could not sail to windward. The pitching motion would scrub off the speed. I might have been OK if I had been able to drop the main mast and shift the mizzen to the centre mast position, but I was unwilling to lie to in that sea for long enough to make it happen. It seems there is not enough luff length with the reefed sails to produce the forward drive necessary in those conditions.

After 4 ineffectual tacks and not much progress rowing either, Tad came along in the clean-up boat, and, once more, I accepted a tow through the mess into Pilot bay. With hindsight I should have anticipated the conditions in the passage, and changed the sail down to the mizzen before I got there. Live and learn, which was partly the motivation for the journey. I found out later that others also had difficulty weathering the pass and a couple of people who had outboards motored through.

Supper on the mothership, “Temujin”, a steel Colvin schooner, we swapped stories about the day and talked about the day to come.

That night at anchor in Pilot Bay, I rigged the tarp over the boat again. The night was unsettled with wind sending small wavelets into the bay, making for a jerky rocking motion. It didn’t keep me awake for long though. All went well until about 0220 when a few gusts came up and started pushing the boat around on its anchor line and flapping the tarp enough that I couldn’t sleep. I got up and took it down, spending the rest of night with it draped over me as a cover to keep the dew off. In the middle of the night, there was an amazing show of phosphorescence in the water, as the waves disturbed the luminous small sea creatures. If I wasn’t so tired, it would have been worth a swim just to see the light show.

[J. Dillon]

A good read. Keep going but a question. I notice 'Hornpipes " tiller lashed to port. How does this work with the mizzen mast ?

JD

PS Beautiful boat.

[AJZimm]

... but a question. I notice 'Hornpipes " tiller lashed to port. How does this work with the mizzen mast ?

JD,

Sharp eye.

There is an additional mast position in the aft deck strictly for mounting the mast for when at anchorage or when alongside when you want to rig a line between the two masts for a tent. This isn't the sailing position for the mast. When sailing, the mizzen is rigged in a mast step built into the aft thwart. The first picture shows the box-style mast step with the SS gate across it to keep the mast in (and the same arrangement for the centre and forward mast boxes) and the second picture shows the mizzen stepped in the sailing position

Only takes a few seconds to unstep the mast from sailing position and move it to at-anchor position. Of course the tiller is in the way in the at-anchor position so it has to be moved to one side.

[J. Dillon]

Alex , your boat is a looker and I bet you get compliments all the time. I know I do and I haven't ranged that far with "Carrianne".

JD

[AJZimm]

Sunday
Sunday morning dawned clear, and the wind had shifted overnight to a light southeast breeze, with a forecast of more to come later in the day. This was welcome news, as we faced the longest leg of the raid, 22 nm north-northeast across the Straight of Georgia to Jedediah Island, a marine park between Texada Island and Lasqueti Island. This suited me fine, as it meant we would be on a broad reach most of the day, which seems to be Hornpipe’s best point of sail.

After breakfast and the skippers’ meeting, we organized ourselves for the start. This time, as the boats glided back and forth across the bay under easy sail, I was among them. The start horn went off and we hardened up for the short beat out of the bay.





(Images courtesy of other raiders)

Once out of the bay, we settled in to getting the best performance out of our boats in the light air downwind. Those boats with spinnakers flew them and the rest of us paid close attention to our steering and sail trim. I actually passed one of the Wayfarers, feeling good about it, only to find out later that they had neglected to raise their centreboard!
The breeze began to turn into a wind some time around about 1130 and it occurred to me that if this was the start of the predicted stronger wind this afternoon, now would be good time to eat my lunch before I got too busy to do so. It turned out to be a good strategy, as soon I was reefing. First a reef in the mizzen. Then a single reef in the main, then later a double reef in the main. Then dropping the mizzen altogether. Reefing the standing lug sails on Hornpipe involves dropping the whole sail into the boat, shifting the tack pennant, tying in the reef points as you come aft, then shifting the sheet to the reef clew. After that, you hoist everything back up again, bear down on the tack pennant to tighten the luff and sheet in. When the mizzen is up, the boat behaves very well with the main down, sitting there quietly hove to while the mizzen and tiller look after themselves. It doesn’t take long, as I have the main halyard and tack pennant lead aft – perhaps 2 minutes or less.

By the time I was down to the double reefed main, in early afternoon, we had made a lot of progress, and didn’t have far to go. The wind, however, was getting quite strong, and more to the point, the sea state was beginning to catch up to it. I was estimating the wind to be 20 kts with gusts higher than that. We found out later that this was wrong, that the winds were in fact a steady 30, gusting higher. Seas by now were routinely 6-8 ft, with occasional seas to 10 ft. The day remained clear and sunny, and with the sea sparkling blue in the sunshine and the bright white of the breaking waves, it was hard to feel as apprehensive as I perhaps should have in that amount of wind.

I found out something about my boat then. Hornpipe is essentially a Whitehall hull, with its tucked up transom, a displacement hull. I found out that the boat will surf. At the top of those bigger seas, the wind would grab that doubled-reefed main stepped forward, the rudder would start to vibrate and hum and the boat would take off, surfing on the centre of the hull. There is almost no deadrise at the centre of the hull. It was like the parting of the Red sea, with a wave thrown out either side, higher than the gunwales. The sea would gradually slide past under the boat and the boat would come down off the surf into the following trough. On the milder surfs, when I had time to look, the GPS was recording surfs of 8, and once 9+ kts.

I realized that I really had too much sail up and would have been better served by the mizzen or the mizzen reefed. Once again, I left it too late and could not afford to let the boat lie to while I shifted masts. As it was, one of my chief concerns was broaching, or having one of those breaking seas break on top of me. However, neither of these happened and we soon were approaching Sabine Channel between Jedediah and Texada.

I had been convinced that, in those seas, the 14 ft handliner, Bus Bailey, was a goner. Not so. About then I caught sight of the small blue lug sail that Colin carries and there he was, rowing like a mad thing to maintain direction (the boat has no tiller), with the sail behind him straining at its reef points. I passed him, but not nearly as fast as might be supposed. It is amazing what a small boat in the hands of a strong and skilled operator can accomplish.

The days’ original destination, Codfish Bay on Jedediah is completely exposed to the south and was a mass of white as I went by. I carried on in Sabine Channel and the waves began to lessen as the curve of Jedediah Island began to dissipate them. I rounded up behind the northern point of the Island, dropped sail and just sat there in the williwaws that swirled around the point, drinking water and eating a power bar, recovering. Shortly, Colin came around the point and joined me. He said that the place to head to was Deep Bay, a narrow slot facing northwest, and where there was plenty of anchoring room, stern to against the rock walls. We pulled into the bay and up to the head, grounding on the rocky beach. Colin climbed out, reached into his bag and offered me a beer. Right then it was the best beer I had ever had!

We sat on a mossy rock and tried to raise some of the others on the VHF. Some of the boats had gone to another bay, some had yet to come in. After talking to various boats and the mothership, we determined that Deep Bay was the best place to stay for the night.
Supper was a good thick stew served up by the Raid chef Trevor and his assistants. It was exactly the thing after such a day and the talk flowed freely as we heard the tale of the day. Tuvaaq’s tiller broke and she had to be towed in. One of the Mower dories, Swordfish, had its mast base break. They lashed it up so that it wouldn’t move too much, reduced sail to just the jib and limped in. Everyone had an exciting time, a little too exciting for some of us, and the more we talked, the stronger the wind was, and the bigger the seas. Generally, the heavier boats thrived and arrived in fine shape.

After supper Swordfish’s crew borrowed some 5-minute epoxy, scrounged some large pipe clamps, manufactured some splints from a beach log and re-installed their repaired mast just as darkness and high tide caught them.

The wind in the treetops above the cove was still blowing, but at anchor all was calm and I fancied that the wind began to ease as we went to sleep wondering what the next day would bring.

[AJZimm]

Monday
Yesterday’s strong south winds had dropped but hadn’t completely died away. Today there was to be 2 legs. The first leg was to be around the south end of Jedediah Island and Texada Island and into Anderson Cove on the east side of Texada for lunch, followed by a longer leg in the afternoon to Cockburn Bay around Cape Cockburn on Nelson Island, near the mainland.

(Images courtesy of Tad Roberts)


The start was upwind south around Jedediah and, theoretically, a reach across to round Texada. The water was mercifully flat beating out past Jedediah and the Wayfarers and the Mowers soon took the lead. The rest of us were somewhere behind. Somewhere across Sabine Channel the wind shifted a little and what was a reach turned into almost a beat. None of us could fetch the point point on one tack, so, one after the other, we all tacked out into the Straight to gain enough offing. At the point itself, the tide and wind were at cross-purposes, making for a lumpy sea. It didn’t last long and we were soon around a gliding downwind into Anderson Cove. As we collected for lunch, the last boats straggled in.


By the time we re-started for the afternoon leg in was after 1500 and the winds were beginning to build in Malaspina Channel. I could carry all sail on a broad reach at the start, but in less than an hour, I had to drop the mizzen again. Another day of sparkling water and sunshine and building winds. This time it really was about 20 kts, and pretty much a dead downwind run to Cape Cockburn. This also turns out to be a good point of sail for Hornpipe and once again I was smoking along, surfing on the bigger seas, although they weren’t as big as the day before. The sailing was exhilarating and although there wasn’t quite the same edge of fear as the day before there were mishaps from carrying spinnakers too long. One boat muffed the take down, sailed over the spinnaker and lost a lot of time sorting it out. Another decided to cut the spinnaker sheet and let all fly as the wind suddenly increased.

Running dead downwind, I caught all the boats but two before Cape Cockburn. Just past the Cape, I knew I would have to gybe the main for the right turn into Cockburn Bay. I was contemplating just how to do this – I really had too much sail up again – when all of a sudden on a roll on top of a wave the sail gybed over with an awful slam. Nothing carried away, so there I was, gybe accomplished. I eased the sheet and ran in behind the protection of the Cape, towards the Bay.

The Bay turned out to be relatively sheltered but Cape Cockburn is low and so the south winds reached across the top of the Cape into the bay and blew out of the bay in gusts. At this point, I figured discretion was the better part of valour and dropped the sail to row in. The Bay is the site of an old logging dump and marshalling yard, now overgrown. It made a relatively flat area for tenting, though, so several of the boats crews elected to set up their tents ashore. After a quiet evening, we all turned in for an even quieter night.

[Don Kurylko]

Bump! Where are you Alex?

[AJZimm]

Bump! Where are you Alex?

Been off visiting computerless relatives on the Prairies for a few days. Will post the next installment shortly

[AJZimm]

Before the next installment, I see that Ryan and Stella have uploaded some of their pictures on to the Shipyard Raid site.

Here are a couple from the strong winds of Monday afternoon. As always, pictures don't do justice to the sea state

Hornpipe surfing downwind


Bus Bailey, Hornpipe and Tuvaaq

[AJZimm]

Tuesday
Woke to find that Hornpipe, and Grayling to whom she had been rafted up, somewhat misjudged the state of the tide so that the boats, which had been moored offshore, were sitting with their forward halves on the shore. The tide was rising, though, and we knew they would be entirely afloat by the time breakfast was over. At the Skippers’ meeting, Tad announced that, to mix things up a little, the day’s leg north to Westview was to be rowing only for the first hour. This would favour Bus Bailey, Tuvaaq and Bear, and the more energetic of the dinghy crews. Not so good for the heavier boats or a single-hander like me who is only good for about 2 ½ to 3 kts.

The weather was clear again and the wind forecast to be light and variable for the day. Sure enough, after the rowing hour was over, there was only a light south wind that soon died away. I could see ahead that after a patch of calm, a north breeze was setting in, as the various boats were heeled over and beating into the wind. When my following breeze died away I rowed through the calm patch and raised all sail.

I seem to be trailing a line and the main tack is not strapped down tight enough. Photo by Ryan & Stella


A beautiful upwind day in bright sunshine and relatively flat seas followed and the fleet separated on long tacks across Malaspina, working towards Grief Point just south of Westview. I favoured the mainland shore closer to Grief Point, figuring that the wind would curve around the point, lifting me, and counting on flatter water. Both happened and I gained a place on one of the Mower Dories who had crossed to the Texada Island side.

Around the point I lost ground as I had to tack offshore to avoid a tug and log boom between me and the destination at the government harbour. The breeze died away in the last half mile and I rowed in. Westview is a government dock dominated by commercial fishing boats and we all ended up rafted up to other boats, about 4 deep. There are showers at the head of the dock and it was pure luxury to get under the fresh water and wash away the salt and sunscreen.

A quiet night in Westview. Photo by Karen


Tuesday was also the cook’s night off, so we were thrown on our own resources for supper. Most of us ended up at a Mexican restaurant recommended by the locals. By an amazing coincidence of timing, their liquor license, which they had applied for, arrived between the time of the first crews ordering their food and the later crews ordering theirs. So, the laggards like me got to have a Corona with their suppers while the early birds didn’t.

Back down to sleep on the boat, where I rigged the tarp over a line between the masts, sans battens, and with the ends tucked under a couple of oars to make a small tent. Although not much room, it worked fine to keep off the dew and was less trouble to rig.

[AJZimm]

Not sure anyone is still reading this. I'll carry on under the assumption that some are.

Wednesday
Another clear day and forecast of light and variable winds. It was already warm in the morning, holding a promise of getting fried by the sun later in the day.

Morning start from Westview: Image from Tad Roberts


So it went. The day started off calm, with everyone rowing, but a light north breeze came up, allowing everyone to tack northward, much like the day before. The breeze only held for an hour and half, after which we were all back to rowing. The mornings destination was Lund, not too far away.

At the end of this first leg, I nipped a Wayfarer at the line and was quite a way ahead of one of the Mower Dories, who declined to do as much rowing in the heat. I was hot and dehydrated by the time I got to the concrete breakwater that serves as outer mooring. I sat in the shade, ate lunch and rehydrated, passing up the delights of strolling around Lund.

Afternoon start from Lund: image from Ryan


There was an evening, rowing-only, short sprint leg planned for our destination for the night, the Copeland Islands, only about 2 ½ miles away. I laid into my oars but couldn’t keep up with the 2-person boats or the longboat or the umiak. This leg was just made for Colin in Bus Bailey and he finished first or second.

The anchorage at the Copeland Islands was beautifully sheltered and had a great view to the northwest. The water in the Straight of Georgia warms noticeably as you get near to this part of the Straight, as the tidal streams from north and south around Vancouver Island meet up just north of here. The result is less mixing of cold Pacific waters, and as the summer wears on, the water gets warm enough that swimming is no longer an exercise in staving off hypothermia. The kids from the longboat were having a great time swinging from a topping lift on the mother ship into the water and climbing out and doing it again. I don’t know where the kids get the energy, as they had been rowing that heavy boat all day.

Mothership as diving platform: Image from Ryan


Anchored the boat, rigged the tarp and drifted off to sleep in a very quiet bay with the night air still warm.

[StevenBauer]

We're still reading, Alex, and loving it. Don't stop now.


Steven

[BobW]

Oh yes, Alex, we are reading - and enjoying the tale very much.

Bob

[Jeff Benagh]

still reading and enjoying every minute!

Jeff

[Thad]

Can't read it if you don't write! Thanks for carrying on!

[AJZimm]

Thursday

The night, aside from a few mosquitoes (that zeroed in on my ear of course), was peaceful.

Today’s destination was Eveleigh anchorage, on the edge of Desolation Sound, just outside Prideaux Haven, a very popular yacht anchorage. Don’t know why Eveleigh isn’t used more, as in the summer it is nearly as sheltered.

The rules for today’s stage was sailing only for the first 2 hours. As there was a light southwesterly breeze at the start, this pleased me. I was doing well right from the start, broad reaching, and lying third as we rounded Sarah Point and headed east to Eveleigh.

Photo by Tad Roberts




The day’s tactical challenge was whether to go south or north around Mink Island, which lay across the direct course. I opted for south, hoping that the southwesterly/westerly breeze would funnel along the island and hold through the pass at the east end of Mink Island.

The breeze held as a following light breeze until the pass, but was not strong enough to overcome the wind shadow of Mink Island in the pass. As it died away, I took to the oars and began to notice the ebb tide which was setting through the pass against me. Meanwhile, one of the Wayfarers, who had got into the pass ahead of me, caught a brief wind slant and scooted through. No such luck for me - I fought against the ebb, with the boat seeming to pull through molasses, but eventually got clear.

The wind was so light for the remainder of the distance to Eveleigh that it was toss-up whether sailing was faster than rowing. I ended up rowing the last mile or so and was nipped at the finish line by the second of the Mower dories. Most of the other boats took to their oars earlier and were in ahead of us. I think the umiak was first in.

Photo by Tad Roberts


Photo by Ryan on Stella


Once anchored, the day was still hot and I went for a swim. On coming back to the boat it occurred to me that I had never before tried scrambling on board from the water – could I do it? Turned out the boat is stable enough to throw a leg over the side and roll in.

Photo by Ryan on Stella


The evening turned absolutely calm and remained warm right until after dark. Clear skies away from the city lights meant a spectacular view of the stars.

[htom]

Oh, what a tale this is turning into!

[AJZimm]

Friday

Another calm night and warm morning. The anchorage was beautiful in the morning sunshine, and sitting eating breakfast on the mothership, drinking coffee and chatting with the other raid participants and supporters in anticipation of the day, it seems that life doesn’t get much better than this.

At the morning skippers’ meeting, we learned that today’s distance of 19 nautical miles to Hanson’s Landing on Cortes Island was to be broken into 2 legs. The first was to be a longish morning leg retracing part of the way we had come yesterday, as far as Sarah Pt, then on around the south end of the Twin Islands to a stop at the spit on Spilsbury Pt at the north end of Hernando Island. The second was to be an afternoon leg west and south around the shoals and bell buoy at the south end of Cortes Island, then north up to the government dock at Hanson’s. Winds were forecast light and variable again, much like the day before.

Once we started, we found a head wind from the west southwest, but enough to give us good sailing. Again, the fleet scattered across the channel, crossing tacks, as we made our way back to Sarah Point. There was more wind than yesterday, at least as far as the point, and I occasionally had to reef as it puffed up, just about driving the lee rail under, then shake the reef out again as it dropped. While this was necessary to keep the sea on the right side of the hull, the reefing and unreefing definitely cost me time.

Photo by Ryan on Stella


Past the point, in the early afternoon, the wind began to fall lighter. The more weatherly boats who had got there first had held the wind further towards Marina Island and I could see them ahead rounding Twin Islands to head for the spit. With the breeze steadily dropping, I was still ahead of the umiak, but the afternoon was getting on. Just as the wind was dying away altogether and I was contemplating a switch to oars, Tad came along with the clean up boat, towing the umiak and telling me to hook up too for a tow to the spit. We had a long way to go that day and he didn’t want to delay the restart for the afternoon leg too long.

Photo by Greg on Tuvaaq


As we waited for the next start, the wind picked up again, this time from the south. This made for a start on a reach as we rounded Spilsbury Pt and all headed for the bell buoy. The shoals extend way out from Cortes Island, and while they are obvious on the chart, they are invisible from the water, so it feels like you are heading to the middle of nowhere. We had a great sail with plenty of wind to move us to the buoy, and we all rounded in fine style, with not too much spread between first and last boats.

Photo by Ryan on Stella


Once round the buoy the wind began slackening again, the keeners took to their oars sooner to maintain speed, the rest of us later and we all ended up rowing the last couple of miles.

The evening was once again calm, warm and clear. The fleet anchored among the existing boats spread out along the shore, with some pulling their boats onto the beach and camping ashore. My initial anchorage was too close to another boat, and after I had everything rigged, I had to get up again and anchor a little further away.

Photo by Greg on Tuvaaq

[AJZimm]

Saturday

Saturday and the last day of the raid. On waking I looked past my feet and didn’t see water, only sand and rocks. Looking over the side, I saw that I had misjudged the depth where I anchored and had only about 18 inches under my keel. While this was enough to float the boat, the tide was still dropping so clearly I had to move. Although it was an hour at least until breakfast, I headed over to the mothership in hopes that the coffee would be on. It was, and the cooks were busy fixing breakfast. I pitched in to help peel and cut the potatoes for hash browns. Soon, breakfast was ready, the other boats began arriving and the day was truly underway.

I was a little nervous about this day, having experienced a significant blow on a kayak trip in this area several years ago, on the stretch of water between Cortes and Quadra Islands, which is completely open to the Straight of Georgia to the south. On last years raid, this was one of the windiest legs of the entire raid, capsizing one of the boats.

Today was also to be 2 legs – a late-ish morning start and a short sprint to Shark Spit on Marina Island for a lunch stop, followed by the last leg across to Heriot Bay in the afternoon.

There was a northerly wind at the start blowing into Hanson’s landing. It was uneven enough that, like the day before, I had to reef a couple of times, which lost me ground. I eventually decided that, since the destination was dead to windward, I could make better progress by rowing, which I did, and got into the spit ahead a couple of the other boats – nice not to be dead last.

The day was warm and sunny as we waited for the other boats to come in and we beachcombed, rested and talked, tending to the boats on the rising tide.

Photo by Tad


As we had lunch and listened to the weather forecast, it seems that the wind was blowing strongly from the north west in Johnstone Straight, the other side of Quadra Island, not too far away. This aligned with the light northerly wind we had over the spit. During lunch, however, the wind died and unaccountably began to blow from the south, and fairly briskly at that.

Photo by Ryan


The afternoon start was a very short run to the narrow passage round the spit, then a reach across towards Heriot Bay. I started out with just the main up, as it was too strong for both sails. The wind strength went up and down the next hour or so, keeping me busy reefing and unreefing, losing ground to the boats that could carry more sail. Finally the wind settled into a steady 8-10 kts from the south. This suited me fine, and with all sail set, I was making good time, a steady 4 kts. This held right until the tip of Rebecca Spit, a mile or so from Heriot Bay. Once past the spit, the wind dropped off and a big powerboat wake shook what air there was right out of the sails and it was back to rowing.

Photo by Tad


I pulled across the last mile to the finish line just outside the government dock and just ahead of the ferry coming in from Cortes, got the finish horn blast from Tad, and my raid was over.

Photo by Tad


It had been a terrific 11 days. I learned a lot about the boat in a short time and met some great people. The weather for the most part was terrific, nothwithstanding a little too much wind for my comfort on Sunday and Monday. The only rain I saw was the first day as I set out to take the boat up to Silva Bay.

We covered a lot more ground than I likely would have if I had been single-handing during the same days as I tend to be more cautious on my own. I likely would have started sooner in the morning and been off the water sooner, perhaps avoiding the worst of the strong winds that we had Sunday and Monday.

As for the competition aspect of the raid, I finished tied for 7th, a not too shabby performance for single-handing this boat. The boat would likely be more competitive in a raid with a crew of two. The extra weight, hiked out to windward, would mean that sail could be carried longer, and two oarsmen would likely mean a rowing speed of closer to 4 kts than 2 ½, which would make a considerable difference in rowing-only legs and light air sailing plus rowing.

All in all, it was a great time and a great event with like-minded people. Tad does a great job of organizing and making it painless to participate. If you have a sail and oars boat, and are within striking distance of this part of the world, mark your calendars for this time next year.

[TR]

Thank you Alex for taking the time to put this thread together...nicely written and a valuable (to me) view from the Raiders perspective.

As a designer the most interesting part of the Raid (besides the food and scenery) is the way the various (a very diverse bunch) boats perform against each other. And the fact that they end up very close in overall performance over a week's sailing.

I hope part of the lesson to be learned from all this is that you can go a long way (with prudence) in a rather small open boat, and you can do it without burning any (or very, very little) fuel.

Mostly I am thankful to the participants and volunteers that make the Raid happen......it would not be possible without their involvement. Thanks again Alex.

[Thad]

Thanks for carrying on!

[AJZimm]

Thank you Alex for taking the time to put this thread together...nicely written and a valuable (to me) view from the Raiders perspective.

As a designer the most interesting part of the Raid (besides the food and scenery) is the way the various (a very diverse bunch) boats perform against each other. And the fact that they end up very close in overall performance over a week's sailing.

I hope part of the lesson to be learned from all this is that you can go a long way (with prudence) in a rather small open boat, and you can do it without burning any (or very, very little) fuel.

Mostly I am thankful to the participants and volunteers that make the Raid happen......it would not be possible without their involvement. Thanks again Alex.

Tad,

I echo your observation that the differences in performance over a week are less than one would think. I had no experience or expectations at the start and was surprised how close we all ended up finishing most days.

As for the fuel, in my case it was the additional calories in the fantastic food, for which I was grateful every day. It's always a pleasure to eat someone else's cooking!

I completely agree about the volunteers. I don't know how you manage to persuade so many to help out, but it clearly couldn't happen without them and I truly appreciated everything everyone did. This whole event is a fine example of people at their best. Thanks again for organizing it.

[Thad]

Must help to be hanging out in some very neat places!

[BobW]

Alex -

Thank you for a nicely written tale of Hornpipe's first big adventure! I enjoyed every minute of it!

Bob

[James McMullen]

Oh, Alex and Tad, I dearly wish I could have been able to afford to take the time off from work for Rowan and I to join you. Alas, I had to pick and choose between going on a week-long RAID and paying my mortgage--a crying shame! Thanks very much Alex, for letting me come along at least in spirit with your narrative.

[KMacDonald]

Poor choice James!!!!!!!!

[Alex Low]

Great thread Alex!

See you next year?

Another Alex