We finally pushed off the gas dock at Port McNeill about 3:00 PM. Our destination was the Polkinghorne Islands, on the other side of Queen Charlotte Strait. I’m not sure what the technical definition of a “strait” is, but I do know that they are big commitments if you want to cross one in a boat. The Georgia Strait. Johnstone Strait. Juan de Fuca Strait. And now, Thunderpussy was about to cross a new one, Queen Charlotte Strait. Queen Charlotte Strait is where the Pacific Ocean flows into the inner waters of British Columbia. It should probably be called Haida Gwaii Strait now to pay proper respect, just like how the Island names were officially changed to reflect their cultural heritage. But then you would have to change all of the nautical charts currently being used, so what can you do?
Coming around the western tip of Malcolm Island we saw a lighthouse, one of the few which are still manned. From there it was an open expanse of the sea, with a distinctive snow-tipped crown of volcanic peaks far in the distance on the coastal mainland as our bearing.
We knew from listening to the marine weather forecast that we should expect increasing westerly winds, up to 20 knots. That is just about perfect for us to sail. We pretty much had the strait all to ourselves, not another boat was to be seen during the 2 hours or so that we had both the jib and the mainsail up, cruising along at about 7.5 knots. We sailed at a lovely beam reach, the sails (and Cap’n Adam) kept themselves perfectly trimmed, all of our telltales flying freely.
Sailing used to really confuse me. I would haul on lines as directed, but mostly just tried to keep out of the way. After our Cooper Basic Cruising course, I get it. I know we have to unfurl the jib before we trim it with the jib sheets. I know I can help hoist the mainsail if I haul on the halyard near the mast while Cap’n Adam winches it in from the helm. Then we trim the mainsail with the mainsheet, swinging the boom around with the traveller. The white ropes, the blue ropes, the red ropes, and the green ropes. I get what they do now.
After an exhilarating surf of the wind over the sea, we came around the south corner of the Polkinghorne Islands, fired up the motors and pulled down the sails. Quickly the atmosphere changed, and we knew we had entered somewhere special and kind of quiet again. On low throttle we found a tranquil bay to throw down the hook, just as the sun was setting. A few seals popped their heads out of the glassy water, checking out who had just arrived. Gulls and a few herons glided silently overhead. We were exhausted after a full day, and we found the most peaceful place to rest and sleep.
