We entered the peaceful refuge of Deep Bay at sunset (2130 hrs) on the east coast of Vancouver Island adjacent to Denman Island. Plans to anchor at Hornby's Tribune Bay were thwarted by 20 knots wind driven waves. Always good to have a backup plan.

Thursday, June 17 began at my usual wake up time of 0530 hrs. I'm awake. The view through the forward berth hatch is gray. I blink. Is it the fog outside or the fog in my morning head? Another look with conscious concentration and the gray view persists. the random processing of waking thoughts now engages the topic of fog and the possible ramifications. We may have to sit until the soup clears. we could still go with radar and GPS chart plotter. Really, there is no hurry. My mind circles the topic like a wandering visit to the zoo. After seeing the monkeys for the third time, I roll out of bed and pad over to the gangway hatch and peer out past our cockpit to see our neighbors charred BBQ grill clearly still hanging off of its stern mount, a blackened monument to last night's dinner or some domestic ceremony. So it is confirmed. Visibility is fine beneath a solid gray sponge of clouds.

We cast off our mooring buoy at 0630 and made for Dodd Narrows by way of Swanson Channel to Trincomali Channel through the Houstoun Passage to Stuart Channel all to favor the best tidal current and avoid the apposing morning ebb.

At 1330 we were perched above Dodd with others awaiting the turn at 1420. At 1400 we slid into the narrows to meet the lingering current (about 1.5 knots) but pushed our way through to exit the north side near slack.

At 1600 hours we passed Schooner Cove with following seas and a 10 knot SW wind and elected to make for Hornby. The freshly updated marine weather forecast told of SW winds building to 15 knots in the evening but subsiding to light NE winds by early Friday morning. This confirmed our deision but still we planned for a backup if conditions worsened. Seas gradually built from 2 feet, to 3 feet and yes to four feet with frothy tops. We reached our "decision" way point just five miles out from Hornby, we laughed and quickly agreed it was time to execute the backup. We came round 90 degrees and made for the protection of Deep Bay... across the faces of four footers. Staysail and reefed jib were deployed to afford some stability as we crab walked toward our destination. Ohana rode like the seaworthy ship she is as the game of tag with bull waves continued for the next hour. So we made our way rocking, rolling and lurching to the beat of clanging pots, pans and dishes being hammered by some crazed Caribbean cook in our galley.

At 2130 hours we ducked into Deep Bay, past the fish farm to the public docks nestled beneath the protective arm of the quiet cove. A jumble of vessels of various ages, size and denomination were wedged into the otherwise voluminous dock space. We eventually found an open space at the most inland reach of the docks and carefully moored nose to nose with another sail vessel and Ohana's derriere dangling out past the stern section of dock. We were secure for the night. Within thirty minutes a spray-drenched Search and Rescue vessel glided past and tied up just past our "nose" partner. I was quickly topside and over to confer with seaman who was already hosing down the bright orange pontoons. "A bit rough today", I broke in. "Yep, we were out on high speed rescue drills", he replied with a salty grin. I inquired as to my position on the dock and he nonchalantly said, "It's a private dock for the yacht club, but it's ok they allow reciprocal moorage for other clubs. Are you from a reciprocal club?" "Well, I doubt it", I said hopefully apologetic. "Suppose I could still stay?" "I don't see why not. Just pay the public dockmaster up at that white office building." He wagged his head across the maze of sleeping boats as he continued to spray off the salt. "Thanks", I replied and returned to Ohana to prepare dinner and fall into bed.