Life in dock

I wasn't really looking forward to sitting in one place so long on this trip, but four days tied up in Port McNeill certainly exposes you to the rhythms of a working lumber town on the north shore of Vancouver Island: an isolated place with a real sense of community.

Each morning the kids from surrounding islands tromp up the float past my windows as they get off the "school boat" which will be back again to collect them later in the afternoon. At the next pier over, seaplanes land and take off all day long, to and from even more remote locations along the central coast. Helicopters, scouts for logging companies, hover over nearby forests. Past the airplane float, a beaten crane overlooks a booming basin, where the massive log booms which will be sent north or south to the vast mills at Prince Rupert or Powell River and Campbell River, are assembled. The beeping sound of the squawk boxes used by the operator and the drivers and tug operators sound across the water all day long. Fishing boats duck in and out of the fuel dock, dodging seaplanes both ways.

So town passes right by our boat here, but the boat harbour is interesting enough. There are mostly Americans here at the recreational floats, most of us headed north and holed up until this weather system blows through. It's supposed to get worse before it gets better, but it's bad enough right now. I just hopped outside to help a 60+ foot motor yacht land on the leeward side of the outer-most float. The harbourmaster had first directed him to an inner float, but it became clear to everyone almost immediately that he wasn't going to get into a slot to leeward without bashing into a whole lot of other boats nearby first. It's like trying to dock a barn--all that area above the water line just gets shoved around by the wind, no matter how big the bow-thruster is.

So the harbourmaster pointed him to the outer float so at least he wouldn't smash anyone else up in the process. After about five runs at it, he finally got in close enough for six or seven of us to help warp him in the rest of the way. However, he's at the same spot where the "school boat" usually comes in at, so I need to be sure to be home for the show this afternoon when it comes in. The captain isn't going to be pleased, I am sure; on the other hand, she is probably better equipped to bring her vessel in with this wind than the skipper of the motor yacht.

At any rate, it's fun to meet your neighbors in such circumstances. You certainly hear a lot of interesting trivia and critiques; it also makes you wonder what they said about you when you were bringing your boat in.

Still, for all the difficulty and derision the 60 footer faced, he came off better than the 40+ foot sailboat which is anchored out several hundred yards past the breakwater... from here right now it looks like a regular rodeo ride out there. I wouldn't mind a little embarrassment if it meant getting out of that for the evening.