A rough start...

Far from being able to sleep in, though, I was awake at about 5:30 as usual in these latitudes. Even with the grey skies, the V-berth lights up at that hour, and I decided to take the time to get the stove lit so when I felt like actually getting up for real, it would at least be warm.

I had the usual hassle getting the damned thing going, or worse if anything, and then I looked outside. The wind was still blowing like crazy, and as I looked out the aft hatch, I saw that my stern was within about twenty feet of the lee shore. That was far closer than it should have been even considering the extra rode I let out. And I knew that it was not even low tide yet--that wouldn't happen until 8AM. All I could think was that perhaps the log that got tangled up in the anchor line the night before had yanked it out; I had been fortunate, then, that it reset leaving me even twenty feet of clearance. But it was tight.

I hopped up and turned on the depthsounder. It went from 12 feet to 7 feet as I watched. The boat, we figure, draws about six feet. A foot, with waves coming in a foot high, is not enough clearance; and would definitely not be enough if I stayed through the low tide.

I shut the stove off, got dressed, and got the engine started. This was the thing that I had worried about when anchoring here--having to get off, alone, with the wind pushing me back toward shore. With two people, this is managed by having one person at the helm powering slowly into the wind while the other hoists the anchor, which can take some time and effort. The person at the helm can juggle the throttle, however, to balance the boat and prevent it either going back and aground, or running forward over the anchor line. However, I had to somehow keep off shore, haul in the anchor, and avoid running over the anchor line at the same time (which would foul the propeller and leave me in a desperate situation).

I bought a little time by hauling in hard on the anchor line, which had the effect of pulling me away from shore, at least until I was right over the anchor itself. Then it was all about muscling it up as fast as possible before I drifted back down, a task made harder by the anchor being fouled with about twenty pounds of kelp. I didn't make it all in one go; I had to cleat the anchor off, run back and power forward a bit, then work on the anchor again, a couple of times before I got it up and secured. By that time, my bow had drifted around and was pointing in shore. I couldn't motor forward without grounding; yet putting the engine astern would swing me in place at first, potentially taking the delicate rudder closer to danger.

I compromised by giving a little throttle astern to start the swing, then switching to forward and giving it a lot to try to get to deeper water. I had a few heart-stopping moments when the depthsounder went down below five feet--theoretically, a point where we would be well aground. Thank god for mis-calibration and a light boat; we didn't hit anything and I got out of the cove okay.

I hoisted the sails as soon as I was able, even though it's a pain single-handed. The boat rides better in wind and waves with sails up, however. I had not, due to the speed of my departure, had a chance to stow everything adequately, so there was a lot of banging below as things fell and broke. Still, a little discipline paid off--everything important was in its normal place before I had gone to bed the night before, and nothing major was damaged.

After that it was just a cold, wet slog up the coast toward Port McNeill.