We are anchoring in beautiful Cullen Harbour on the western brink of the Broughton Archipelago waiting for the weather to improve while the winds are blowing at 35 knots: no need to enter Charlotte Strait to go south to Port McNeill if you don’t need to.
So, it seems quite surreal sitting in the cockpit and writing these lines while the fog from the ocean is creeping up on us. This beautiful little cove provides a safe haven while the world out there is at gale warning. It doesn’t take much to realise how unbelievable lucky we are, or does it?
I don’t know how many times Torsten had asked me during the last four weeks if life can get any better than this. Several bottles of wine (red, white, Port) had to be cleared discussing the answer, which we realize might be different depending on whom you are talking to. It has been 32 days since we last provisioned, this translates into four+ weeks without entering a store or doing any kind of shopping; clearly a first for me. We enjoyed sumptuous meals on board; fresh caught rockfish, shrimp and crabs were perfect substitutes by the time we ran out of fresh produce. We just shared our last remaining apple yesterday, adding some aged gouda and a few slices of fresh baked bread: truly delightful but also an indicator that it is time to fill up the lockers with some veggies and fruit.
We still have water for a few more days; having caught some buckets of rain water helped with the dishes and the not so balmy transom showers. Bad hair days became a different meaning but nothing that a toque or baseball cap can’t cover.
I wouldn’t lie if I say that I don’t miss a long hot shower. Little things that used to be part of our daily routine have now turned into a luxury. On the contrary, moments and experiences we could have hardly imagined have now become patterns in our daily lives.
Being at anchor in a secluded bay, dancing around on deck in our birth costumes as the sun is setting.
Feeling that tiny second of disappointment when we see other cruisers approaching “our cove” to spend the night.
The satisfaction when you catch your first fish just to be prepared for dinner that same night.
Long conversations with your partner, laughing and crying together as you go down memory lane – and the blissful moments when you are just sitting next to him in silence, staring into your glass of wine and being at utterly peace.
We both agree that we have learned lots about ourselves on this journey. Yes, expected increase of competency in our sailing skills and seamanship as we are adding nautical miles to the logbook, but more importantly the understanding and clarity about values, character and the sense of happiness. Kind of ironic that being in your mid-fifties you still explore new facets – about yourself and life in general. I always thought of me as a very inpatient person; being on the boat travelling at slow pace is putting that in perspective. It was easy to adjust to the new routine, realizing that instant gratification is not even that desirable anymore. That begs the question if it’s your environment that makes you act – and react in certain ways?
One thing is for sure: There is no pretending; no hiding. Mother nature is dictating what’s coming next and your job is it to be prepared as much as you can, to be inventive, not sweating the small stuff and to see the beauty in everything.
As for us, we truly enjoyed the silence. With the borders to the south still being closed, we might never experience this beautiful piece of earth in such solitude again. We are now looking forward to a few busy days in Port McNeil, getting Fortitude X ready before we embark on our next adventure.
