How many shades of gray?

Wednesday, June 26, 2024

The gentle swaying motion of the boat in Santa Gertrudis Cove rocked Braesail’s crew to sleep on Tuesday night—a somewhat novel sensation because nearly all of our nights have been spent at docks or in absolutely still water. We awakened to clouds and the showers that had washed Tuesday night’s spectacular rainbows into the sea, and made our way out of the cove at about 8:30 am in order to avoid rocks, shallow water, and turbulent sea states around Estevan Point. There was little wind, but plenty of rain as we left protected waters and motored out into the ocean.

The sea swells coming at the boat diagonally made our journey bouncy-bumpy and quite uncomfortable, so we raised the mainsail to provide some stability and continued motoring under steely skies through the chilly rain, the ashen waves, and the heavy mist for about four hours. Conditions improved a little when we left the open ocean, turned toward the coast, and returned to more sheltered waters along the shores, and we could see some surf splashing on rocks and reefs and the ragged edges of islands. Everything remained gray, however—we couldn’t count the shades!

At about 12:30 pm we entered Hot Springs Cove and dropped anchor toward its center where two other boats had hooked (no room at the dock). Michelle and Tom, friends we’d made two years ago during our return trip from Alaska, were moored at said dock, and they headed off to the hot springs, but Hans and Martin had computer projects to work on during a soggy afternoon, Walt and I were quite tired (I find that traveling over “lumpy water” is tough, with muscles constantly tensing, relaxing, and then straining with the pitching and rolling of the boat, my hands grasping and clinging to supports to keep from sliding around on the cockpit’s benches, and sometimes pulling hard on lines), and nobody was enthusiastic about having to launch Coracle, row to the dock, land and then walk the 1.2 miles to the hot springs, change clothes, spend time a little time in the water, hike back to the dock, and return in the dinghy to Braesail in the steady rain. So we read, worked on our computers, and took long and reinvigorating naps.

During the afternoon, Hans received word from his workplace that his unique expertise was required on a ship in Montreal as soon as possible, and confirmation of his travel from Tofino to Vancouver to Montreal and then to Quebec City and back to Vancouver would be given on Thursday. We were all VERY sorry to hear this, especially since a work emergency had caused Hans to arrive aboard Braesail a day late at the beginning of his vacation.

We spent a good deal of time before, during, and after dinner considering various possibilities regarding Hans’ transport to Tofino (where we’d be picking up Martin’s girlfriend Karen at noon on Friday), knowing that we’d have to wait until Thursday to make firmer decisions. I had a good phone visit with my friend Michelle, and we played a long, entertaining game of “Hearts,” which Hans won by a large margin, before, having tried to consoled ourselves with cookies, we took our “feeling-gray” selves, and our disappointment over our friend’s very probable departure from our crew, to our beds.

(Picture a thick gray dripping fog bank here.)