Greetings from Westview, BC. We are aboard the Shearwater, a 33-foot sail boat, en route to the Broughton Archipelago, by way of Port McNeill and Malcolm Island. At last I may visit the much-storied Sointula, which in some twisted way is the starting point of all this sailing. Hurrah!
It's been a variable week. Very few truly warm days yet I have a sunburned face. Lots and lots of rain, so good thing I have my rain gear. I have been sleeping more than usual, which is not to say I've been sleeping through the night but is to say I haven't been bouncing out of the berth at the first glimmer of sunrise. Days are generally leisurely. Sailing still tries hard to break my head. Those of us not to the manner born just can't get it as quick, I guess. (Wow! Who knew there's such a debate whether it's "manner" or "manor"? As a Marxist, I should prefer the latter, apparently, but the scholarly opinion seems to prefer the former. Hmm.)
Tonight we met many of the flotilla participants. An interesting group. Anne and Laurence, the trip leaders, seem like lovely people. And they're committed to making sure none of us ends up dead. Always a plus. Given the number of ways in which the boat is trying to kill us, I'm glad we have them to follow.
Vancouver was gorgeous, as always. Since leaving False Creek we've seen many herons and eagles and other assorted birds, but no large mammals. Except seals: not sure whether they count as "large" mammals. Keep imagining orcas and shore-hugging grizzlies for me, please. As we go further north and into more remote areas, I will grow more hopeful.
That's all for now. Now that I know I can blog from my phone (despite serious doubts about my data plan) I will try to uphold my earlier pledge to write more often. Well, at least more often than once every six months.
Et c'est tout! (Or "c'est yogourt", according to autocorrect. Thhhhhhhth!)
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