Photo: Calm sunrise before the storm

After we arrived in British Columbia Marie told me she'd hidden chocolate Toblerone on the boat to eat when she was alone on watch during night. I was devastated. I confess to an inherent chocolate addiction and usually stock Sänna with copious amounts for long passages, but on this occasion I'd decided to try and abstain. It was either that or another trip back to the hypnotist. Marie doesn't usually consume chocolate and I can't get my head around why she suddenly decided to become a secret eater during our three weeks at sea. We finally made port in Prince Rupert, having sailed directly from Hanalei Bay, on the wonderful island of Kauai in Hawaii.

One week into our voyage I desperately longed for Cadburys Dairy Milk or even a coconut Bounty but we had nothing, or so I believed. All the time I was suffering the pains of withdrawal there was a secret supply of Toblerone not feet away. By the second week I was pulling my hair out, or the little I have left. And, each evening, whilst alone on watch, Marie consumed little triangular pieces of Swiss milk chocolate with deliciously small bits of sweet nougat buried inside. I thought we had a close relationship... we share everything but it seems not. And, when I later found out in Prince Rupert, Marie giggled finding the whole thing amusing.

And, another thing... I argued we had too many eggs onboard for a three week voyage. Nearly sixty I believe although Marie denies this. Each one had to be individually greased for preservation and, luckily, our very good friend Sarah joined us onboard in Honolulu for a holiday. Sarah greased each one for us in a rather too caressing manner in my opinion, before we sailed north and Sarah left to return to the UK. I made the point, several times, that we would never get through sixty eggs but Marie and Sarah steadfastly refused to accept this. Not nearly enough they said. To prove her point, once we left, Marie cooked four egg omelettes or double poached eggs on toast each morning and we consumed egg fried rice, egg noodles, egg salads, boiled eggs and egg dishes I'd not come across before. We ate rather well. I suspected at one point I was egg bound. Somehow we consumed the last two eggs in the evening we made port and Marie declared we'd carried just the right amount, as she'd said all along.

Our three thousand mile sail north from warm Hawaii ended in cold British Columbia just south of the border with Alaska. The weather deteriorated gradually, the first week was again glorious trade wind sailing in sublime sunshine until we reached the infamous North Pacific High, the erroneously static area of high pressure that dominates north pacific weather. We had to sail northwards around the high, gradually turning east to Alaska and British Columbia. As we did so the temperatures dropped and the dense fog, strong winds and torrential rain began to dominate. The wind at first died as we approached the High, until we reached the latitudes where low pressure gales hurl relentlessly from the west to drive us eastwards to our landfall destination...

Inevitably, we got caught by a deepening weather front knowing all along we would. We had prepared. We picked up a storm warning issued by the Canadian weather service and quickly realised the wind and seas heading our way would be no spring chicken. There was no means of avoiding it, we battened everything down and made ready. Skip, a friend onshore in San Francisco keeping a keen eye on the weather for us, advised over the radio to dig out our best pirate songs and old sea shanties to sing loudly into the powerful storm coming our way.

The gale force winds came from the south east, touching sixty knots with towering ten metre seas. We tried to hold our easterly course as best we could. A huge rogue wave, breaking with unbelievable green ferocity, knocked us down and we rolled upright to thankfully survive. So we turned like frightened rabbits, running north with the seas under bare poles, flying just a scrap of storm sail to keep our way. We cleared the chaos below, battened the hatches and settled ourselves down from the biting cold to nurture our tired strength, to sit things out leaving Sänna to her fate. Then we were comfortable and warm whilst the wind roared outside and the raging sea hurled and twisted us around. If we survived we'd now make landfall much further north than we'd planned.

The gale winds eased and we somehow tucked into the foggy west coast shelter of Graham Island. Desolate Canada sometimes showed herself through the swirling mists and we turned eastward around the hidden headland making for the infamous Chatham Sound. Captain Cook first came here and called this a savage land.

That's how we came to arrive in Prince Rupert with the last of our eggs and the mysterious Toblerone secretly consumed. We're thankful to God we're alive.

British Columbia is the wildest wilderness we've seen. We have rain and glorious warm sunshine with snow capped mountains and pine forests clinging to countless islands. There are Humpback whales, huge Bald Eagles and we've seen growling Grizzlies along the shorelines too. The locals are friendly and the fishermen give us crabs and halibut and salmon for free. These beautiful harbours are no tourist traps and we tie and live alongside hardcore rough men of the sea who give no grace. They ask and we talk and we have their acknowledging respect.

We're tired and Sänna needs time to gather her strength to continue north some more. She begs and whispers in my ear and someday soon we'll leave.
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