Brain glitch

I was doing my normal last check of the boat before crawling into the berth for the night. I was careful walking around the deck as it was just short of being absolutely dark. Moon and starlight barely managed to lighten the cloud cover just enough to distinguish it from the surrounding terrain. Once upon a time such a scene would have suited me just fine. But all I could think was, if the Billy Thorpe song unfolded and everyone on the earth had been whisked away except Deb and I? What I was seeing would look exactly the same. Other than First Light's anchor light, there was zero evidence that humankind had ever walked the earth. (If you catch the song reference you are giving away your age.) I shrugged it off as still being a bit rough around the edges after the last couple of days, crawled into the berth, and fell into a fitful sleep.

This morning, I woke up to nearly clear skies and just about zero wind. The rain that had been expected overnight never showed. What I saw in the sky and on the current weather and short range forecast suggested it would be a near perfect day to move some miles. The ugly would not start until tonight and going into tomorrow and Monday. Sure we could sit where we were without issue, which was the plan all along and certainly the most conservative and safe choice. But then my brain glitched.

As pretty and as quiet as Cameron Bight was, all I wanted to do was get moving. For the next hour or so Deb and I had an intense discussion. If we did move, where would we go? Contrary to what we had been told, good anchorages are not that easy to find in these parts. The information about them, garnered from an assortment of different guides and chart notes, often conflicts in unsettling ways. Easy access vs be-careful-of-rocks entries. Good holding vs questionable holding vs anchors lost to rocks holding. Protected vs not so well protected. Deep enough vs might not be deep enough vs way too deep. This trip has already been a circus of near disaster touted as an "adventure". We have listened on the VHF as boats have been on rocks, one holed and nearly sunk. Props have been shattered. Charts are unreliable. And we nearly lost First Light and luckily escaped injury in the railroad lift. The thing we cannot do is damage the boat. Poking into an unknown and questionable anchorage with weather closing in? Not the best idea I've ever had.

With the weather's main attraction being 20 knot winds blowing in on Sunday into Monday, bringing scattered thunderstorms with them, a good place to anchor was a must have. Much discussion  ensued but no good answer was found. But my brain was still glitched. I did not want to spend two or three more nights where we were. So Deb went into full-on make-it-happen mode and suggested Blind River Marine Park as a possible destination. It had a review that suggested it was kind of shallow for First Light. Deb gave them a call, was assured that we would be fine and yes, they had room.

Winds were not an issue for today but rain? That was another issue. The forecast suggested showers, some kind of heavy, to arrive right at the end of our four-hour trip time. My look at the sky, and what I saw of the radar forecast, suggested that was somewhat pessimistic. Deb allowed that docking in the rain wouldn't be an issue as long as it didn't come with a bunch of wind. We have been wet before. And if a storm did pop up out of nowhere? We would button up, go below, and just jog it out in open water bow into the wind. Something we did several times in Kintala. Deb made the reservation and, even though I think she was having a bit more misgivings about changing the plan on such short notice than she would admit, we pulled up the anchor and headed out.

When it comes to weather guessing, sometimes I get it right. First Light's radar was painting a band of light showers that never approached closer than eight miles. The ride was smooth, the navigation easy, and we pulled onto the dock without a drop being dropped on us. The marina isn't that expensive. The docks are new.  The folks here are helpful and friendly. We are tucked in behind a breakwater that is about two boat lengths behind us. Our bow is pointing almost due North, the direction from which the worst of the winds are forecasted to blow. Thanks to Deb coming up with a good alternate and agreeing to give it a try we are one travel day ahead of where we were.

 And my brain is un-glitched.