We are poised for a run south down the Strait of Georgia. Ohana rests in Gorge Harbour this evening. The night is calm. The day saw a well-timed navigation from the Octopus Islands past Surge Narrows and through Beazley Passage. We slogged against a fifteen knot wind south until turning east, putting the breeze abeam and in our sails en route to Cortez Island through the skinny channel at the tip of Shark Spit. Gorge Harbour Marina has undergone an impressive makeover. Upgrades are everywhere. New concrete docks with power boxes and water spigots, dockhouse and office, general store supplies, swimming pool and hot tub, brick and stonework paths, fencing and public firepit and BBQ - a multi-star resort including upgraded cabins. The restaurant is as popular as ever and many boaters on the hook dinghy over for fine dining. We opted for pizza baked in our own galley.

The Octopus Islands were well worth the stop. We dropped the hook in Bodega Anchorage and had the place to ourselves with a few vocal harbour seals on the nearby islets. The roar from Okisollo Rapids was clearly audible from nearly two miles away. We enjoyed the open view through Hole in the Wall to the northeast. We lingered in the Octopus Islands about 24 hours which afforded time to organize, fish, crab and oh yes, perform surgery on the windlass. The windlass is a very helpful piece of equipment that raises and lowers the anchor and chain with appreciable mechanical efficiency. Even more appreciated after one raises and lowers the hook by hand a couple of times. The windlass motor is located below the foredeck inside the anchor locker. In order to examine the motor one must squeeze forward into a space the size of a foot locker, twist, contort use reading glasses a mirror, flashlight and an unimmaginable degree of patience. After some time snuggled in with seaweed, motor grease and delicate spring-loaded magnets, I emerged holding two internal fastening bolts that had somehow been sheared off. Concluding that further repair would be required at the homeport I accepted that anchoring "old school" would be the mode for the remainder of our journey. The haul-up at Octopus was a workout. Austin and I tag-teamed the operation and soon Austin was hauling away like an old salt. "I haven't had a good arm workout in awhile", he happily grinned. I smiled back and felt a twinge in my neck.