It is a glorious morning. As I awaken September 6, 2003, I stretch and enjoy the warmth of my down comforter. Ah, the sweet comfort of waking on my yacht. I stay in bed, luxuriating in the warmth, listening to the silence and moving in rhythm to the boat. Finally I get up, get dressed, put the kettle on for coffee and decide to motor out of the harbor to anchor in the shallow waters off Sidney Spit.
I drop the anchor in Sidney Spit and bob in the water, hoping to relax in a little seclusion. I breakfast and watch the activities of other arriving boaters who obviously have the same thought. I absolutely regale in the fresh, late summer morning. The crisp air and the bright sunlight reflecting off the dark green waters seem to make the coffee more aromatic and the strawberries mixed in plain yogurt sweeter.
As the hours slip by, the bright morning begins to slowly transform into a cloudy early afternoon as a series of thundershowers roll in from the south. The drop in barometric pressure accents the atmosphere with what I perceive to be even fresher, cleaner air. I inhale deeply, allowing the salt air to caress my senses. As I motor back to the harbor, I take note that these are the first rains in several months to bathe southern British Columbia and the Port Sidney marina. It feels good.
Although I had planned on departing at noon and certainly no later than 2:00 p.m., I wait as torrential rains pelt the water and deck of EspŽrance, my Beneteau 361. I climb into my bright yellow survival suit and don my Tilly hat. Stepping into the cockpit, I erect the bimini. This canvas awning gives me some protection from the rains while I am in the cockpit and at the helm.
Time is slipping away. I want to arrive in Point Roberts by dark, and now as 3:30 p.m. is quickly approaching, I begin to make haste to depart. With the bimini secure, charts in place, and extra gloves, hat and binoculars placed close at hand, I make the decision to depart.
As I slip out of Port Sidney marina and slide into the open ocean, I begin reviewing the nice evening before that I had with an acquaintance from work, Captain Howard Chase and his wife Allison. Although Howard had retired almost a year ago, I sailed over to Sidney to share an evening with him as a way of saying thank you for the time we worked together when he was my manager in Air Canada. We had an evening of laughter, reminiscing of the time we flew together, did check rides together and even sang together . . . shaking my head and chuckling as I recalled the singing . . . it was during a check ride.
Although several thunderstorms had rolled through the area leaving the air cool, the sea is relatively calm and the winds extraordinarily light. With a roll of thunder, forked lightening continues to flash off in the distance to the north. To the south I see another storm cell quickly approaching. The survival suit will stay on as will the Tilly hat. Having to wear glasses for distance, the brim of this Canadian invention, the floating Tilly hat, keeps the few raindrops that sneak under the bimini to a minimum.