The last bastion of civilization can be any number of places depending on where you are heading and what your standards for civilization are. At various times in the past, I’ve felt like my last touch with civilized society before a departure to wander in the wilderness has been at Campbell River, at Port McNeill, at Port Hardy. This year, Nanaimo feels like the end of the well-trod path to me, the last place with tall buildings and well-stocked groceries before we head further north.
The feeling is always a little overly dramatic… “further north” for us this year isn’t very far at all, and it’s likely to be jammed with other sailors and the various seasonal purveyors of goods to those same sailors. Still, I can’t help but to get a tight feeling in the pit of my stomach as I contemplate departure, wondering if I have bought everything here at the last place it may be bought, if I’ve taken care of all those things that can only be taken care of here.
Theatrical as those thoughts may be, Nanaimo itself is doing nothing at the moment to dissuade them. It’s sunny, warm, charming, and the northwesterly, as it has ever done when we have been here, is blowing like stink and raising hairy four foot chop out on the Strait. No set of circumstances could be imagined which could signal more strongly to the hesitant traveller “Stay there! Don’t go out! Spend another day!”
We’re tied up at the outer float of the Nanaimo Yacht Club, a location which has not served to encourage any thoughts of departure. The club staff and members are friendly, the rates are good, and the location ideal. This is the first time we’ve moored here; it seems to be a popular destination and with good reason. The crowded and claustrophobic Port of Nanaimo floats give me hives when the wind is up, which it always seems to be. NYC is less busy and easier to navigate, even considering the constant stream of traffic through the adjacent Newcastle Channel.
So we’re standing on the edge of a precipice of a sort, with a comfortable couch, good food, and great entertainment right behind us, and it’s difficult to take the leap. Countering that, I am quite looking forward to getting up into Desolation Sound at the north end of the Strait of Georgia. I spoke with a lady today just coming back from there and she couldn’t have painted a more attractive picture… beautiful weather, warm water, grand sights. I’m just not looking forward to what it is going to take to get there, though. It’s only about two days, but both of them are out on the aforementioned, exposed, lumpy Strait of Georgia.
That’s strange, because normally I don’t have much hesitation at setting out into exposed waters (or if I do, I guess I must not remember it). You have to respect the Straits, pick your moment, but apart from that, it’s actually sort of fun to get out onto all that open water. The winds are steady and the course clear, just what every sailor dreams of.
But Nanaimo, the end of one road and the beginning of the next, is holding me back. Looking out across at Mark Bay off the lovely and relaxing park of Newcastle Island, I can imagine drifting over, dropping the hook, and spending my whole summer there. I could even spring for the little Honda outboard advertised up at the head of the dock, ease my commute back and forth for ice and sundries. It’s hard, at this moment, to imagine anything half so desirable or convenient up in Desolation Sound. So we’ll have to see if my wife can force me to actually budge when it’s time to pull out of here tomorrow morning.