YVR

We untied from the SNSYC reciprocal dock in the dark and crept our way out of Tsehum Harbour through the crabpot minefield at the entrance.  It was so dark that we only saw 2 crabpots – there’s more out there but if they were more than a couple of yards either side of the boat we simply couldn’t see them.  We got to Active Pass a bit after slack but before it got running too hard.  Then we headed out across the Strait of Georgia toward the mouth of the Fraser River. 

It was a glorious day for the trip.  Its January, so it wasn’t particularly warm but it wasn’t cold either.  The Strait was pretty calm – by the time we got across it was kicking up a bit but barely calling for the stabilizers.  There was hardly another soul out there with us – a few commercial guys and a couple of sailboats in the distance once we got into English Bay but no other recreating fools such as ourselves.   Somewhere in the middle of the strait a couple of dolphins showed up and played with us for a while.

I couldn’t figure why there were so many radar signatures and so few boats on the water until I realized that we were passing just west of the Vancouver International Airport (YVR).  Once I clued in to what was going on I could see the jets that the radar was tracking.  Some of them would get too high and go off the chart so to speak but it was surprising how high I was tracking them. 

We didn’t get tipped on our side going under the Lions Gate this year.  Last year about the time we were going under the bridge with Doug and Jo onboard a great honking big tug went roaring by us sucking half the ocean up behind him.  Doug thought I was joking when I told him to hang on but he wasn’t laughing when the captain’s chair he was sitting on dumped him as the tug’s wake hit us. 

We got settled into Burrard Yacht Club although not without a bit of adventure.  The dock they had us at last year was occupied and we couldn’t see an obvious place for reciprocals to tie up at.  What we did see all had “no berth here” signs hanging on it.  We kept nosing our way further into the marina and eventually spied an open stretch of bullrail long enough for us to tie up at.  By the time we got edged up to it a couple of locals had showed up to help hold our lines.  They thought we’d be OK here for the night and in the morning the guy at the office can sort out where he’d like us to be.  Wherever we end up we’re only about 2 blocks from Popeye’s Marine Consignment which is the real reason we’re here.  It will be a serious adventure getting out of here because the fairway is about only about 30 feet wide – not a prayer of a chance that we will get turned around in it and there’s a wicked dogleg turn to get back out but that’s a problem for another day.