Something that goes hand-in-hand with cruising is traveling to get back from where you are cruising at. Whether it’s half-way around the world or just a few hundred miles up the coast, if you have a slow boat and commitments back home, you’re going to be taking some third-party transportation at some point.
Depending on where you are coming from or going to, this can take exotic forms such as clapped-out public buses, single-engine floatplanes, or simple hitchhiking with the locals. But I’m only going from Vancouver back to Washington, so in my case, it’s a train, two ferry rides, and a handful of bus trips, plus some walking and at least two long car rides over the course of about three days. And that’s just getting there; I’m still not sure how I am going to get back.
It was almost three ferry rides but I managed to find a marina a little closer to the train station I wanted so I was able to just hoof it.
If this all sounds excessively convoluted to you, it does to me as well, and I am not even sure there are good reasons for it to be, although I would certainly hope so. The fact is, I became so mired in the depths of the planning process that I lost track of what all my requirements and options were and simply ended up booking the first course that seemed to work out.
I’m going back to see family and go on a short backpacking trip. Since backpacking gear is not among the many wonderful types of equipment we keep on board, this necessitated a stop in Port Hadlock, where we have much of that sort of thing stored. My wife was also going back to the States at the same time, on a different trip to see different family. We needed to find a place to put the boat where the confluence of marina plus travel costs would be the most advantageous, and wound up with Vancouver. Trains back to Seattle are only about $40, and you can find marinas for $1.25 a foot. Go further south, the transport costs are lower, but the marinas more expensive; further north, the opposite occurs.
This worked out well for her point to point trips, but I still had to swing through Hadlock… and the closest ferry landing to Hadlock is Port Angeles. The only ferries to Port Angeles are from Victoria.
So I caught a train and a bus from Vancouver to the Tsawassen ferry terminal. The size and scope of the BC Ferries system is such that it is actually a lot like taking a commercial airplane flight, only vastly less degrading. The infrastructure and terminals are huge, the boats massive, the routes long. The Washington State Ferries system looks like a kiddy go-cart park in comparison. And while the WSF terminals are generally located in the midst of the urban centers they serve, the BC Ferries terminals are out in the hinterlands, like, and near, the large airports. Getting to and from them involves travels through rural vistas and farmland that we otherwise don’t see much of here. And even the ferry ride itself presents a different picture of waterways I thought myself already well-familiar with. I could almost hear the securite call as we passed Gossip Shoals “…Spirit of Vancouver entering Active Pass, any concerned traffic come back on channel 16 or 11.” But seeing it from five stories up was a different experience.
Because all my connections didn’t neatly add up, I had to spend a night in Victoria, and to keep costs down, I got a room in a hostel. I hadn’t been in a hostel since visiting England, years and years ago. It was small but clean and quiet.
It was a novelty to cross the Strait of Juan de Fuca the next day in a little over an hour. I watched the wind pattern on the swells and only had to imagine the frustration of a light breeze over big swells instead of having to endure the four or five hours of slatting sails and heaving rolls. We were in Port Angeles before I knew it.
Instead of another bus ride (or two) I was fortunate that my mother was able to pick me up there and take me by Hadlock before we headed down through Seattle and over to Eastern Washington. Along the way, we were delayed by a hazard to navigation not frequently encountered aboard a boat: a brushfire was burning across the interstate and we sat in the long line of stopped cars watching a helicopter dip and drop buckets of water on it until it was safe to continue.
So now, after all that, I am set for another long car ride tomorrow into the mountains, and then a long hike that is sure to strain muscles that have been rarely used. If I make it back alive from that, then I’ll have to figure out how to get home again!