Day 24 of the 1st Voyage: In which we find ourselves trapped in “paradise”, eh.

An undertaking this magnitude is not without its challenges. We knew when we set out there would be times of difficulty, distress, and extreme discomfort—it’s just the nature of travelling, especially by boat. Storms, seasickness and lack of safe havens will be inevitable, just as other mechanical and electrical malfunctions will be probable. It’s never a question of “if” but “when”, and in a way we willed it upon ourselves because “better here than out there”. Early on we adopted a mantra—discovered on a bumper sticker (the great philosophical archive of our time)—that goes thusly, “Attitude is the difference between adventure and ordeal.” Truer words were never spoken (although the survivors of the Poseidon Adventure might feel differently.)

So here we are just 24 days into the odyssey, facing our first major hurdle—dead in the water (literally), and waiting on a part not readily available. Our local guy here in Campbell River is looking as is our guy in Everett. We’re hoping that one will hit pay dirt sometime before we become naturalized Canadian citizens (that’s three years, right?). Until then, we can only try to make the best of the situation.

Where is here? Here is Campbell River, British Columbia. A town of about 30,000 spread out so far along Discovery Passage that it actually seems like a town of 3,000. The marina is right across the street from a shopping complex so we have access to a supermarket, a Charbucks, and a Canadian Tire (woohoo!) but everything else (if there IS anything else) is not really within walking distance. Editor’s Note: There is also a liquor store, but it took some doing to find it. No one could tell us where it was, just that it was “in the old Blockbuster store.” (which narrowed it down to about 3500).

The marina itself is not terrible, but it’s not exactly great. It’s more geared to the whale-watching outfits (again with the orcas!), the sport fishing boats (Salmon Capital of the World), and the inter-island water taxis (that all think the “no wake” zone does not apply to them), so it’s a little rough around the edges. But they do seem to be in the process of gentrifying in a “we’re a working marina, but want to appeal to the ladies so throw up some hanging flower baskets” kind of way. It also seems to be run completely by kids who know nothing about boats, marinas, or how the world works. The Captain stopped a staff member on the dock—a kid of about 16 or so—and had this enlightening conversation:

TC: “Where can we find the closest pump out station?”

Kid: “The what?”
TC: “Pump out station. For pumping out the head.”
Kid: “The what? Do you mean for pumping out water?”
TC: “No. For pumping out sewage.”
Kid: “Oh! Like your bathroom? I think people just put it overboard, eh.”
TC: “Nice.”

Yes, nice indeed. And now this is home for the unforeseeable future.