July 12 - another day in Port McNeil - but never a dull moment...

We stayed in Port McNeil today to do more laundry, etc, etc.  But it was not an uneventful day.  Early this morning, I took Blue for a walk.  It was a misty morning and I contemplated taking my camera but did not (this will be of significance later).  I did take my Blackberry because I was in the midst of exchanging texts with my brother (also of significance later).  After the walk, Blue and I returned to the dock.  Rob was on board, lazily making coffee and breakfast.  On my way down the dock, I looked at the water and noted it was not looking super clean this morning; we are moored at a fuel dock...

Now, for a bit of background:  the only "door" to our boat is at the stern (rear).  So, when we are moored alongside a dock, we have two choices:  climb over the side with a 70 pound dog or "walk the plank" that Rob and Bill made.  The plank runs on an angle from the dock to our "swim grid", which is a small deck cantilevered off the back of the boat.  If all of this is sounding ominous, it should.  

So.  I am back at the boat with Blue.  Blue does not like the plank.  On it, he has slipped and dipped a toe in the water a few times and so I am attentive to his progress re-boarding and see that he is wobbling a bit as he steps onto the swim grid.  I proceed to follow him.  I do not make it.  The plank turns sideways and dumps me into the water.  It is extremely cold.  I am wearing a toque, a down parka, wool socks and clogs etc. (an aside:  my clogs stayed on the whole time - I find that surprising).  No one is around.  The dock is above my reach from the water.  The swim grid (the lowest point on our boat) is also not accessible.  I call  Rob.  He has a heard splash and assuming that Blue is in the drink, comes out to help me.  He is shocked to see my toque bobbing in the water.  He is also wearing only his underwear, a t-shirt and a pair of Crocs.  

Rob deploys our newly installed and very expensive ladder which is attached to the swimgrid. It is meant for situations just like this, to facilitate reboarding the boat from the water.  It does not work.  When I put a foot on it, the entire ladder goes up under the swim grid and most of my body disappears with it, under the boat.

Rob grabs my arm a little too firmly and I tell him that this is not the best way to do this.  I also tell him: "do not step on the plank".  Do. Not. Step. On. The. Plank.  Rob will later say that I should have told him why he should not step on the plank.  Anyway,  he did step on the plank and immediately plunged into the water beside me.  "Now we're screwed aren't we?",  I said calmly, while treading water  in my clogs.  At this point, Blue is standing above us and I can read his mind:  "I told you the plank was a bad idea.  And you guys are lame".

Rob and I have different versions of what happened next.  Rob:  "I used my upper body strength to hoist myself nimbly out of the water with a grace that has heretofore not been seen."  Me:  "Rob grabbed onto something with one of his extremely long arms, threw a leg onto the swim grid and then hoisted himself up.  It wasn't pretty, but it worked."  The truth is probably somewhere in between.  On board again, Rob held one of my arms.  I used the other arm to pull myself up and simultaneously threw a leg onto the swimgrid. Once I had rolled onto the swim grid, seal-like, I lay face down on it for a while and told Rob not to touch me.  We took our clothes off on the back deck (remember, no one was around).  

Later, warmed by a hot shower and freshly laundered clothes, we laughed a lot at the whole fiasco.  But that ladder must! be fixed.  Oh, and my blackberry must be replaced.  So, don't phone me for a few weeks.

The "plank" is the white piece of wood now hoisted onto the swimgrid but still  sitting sideways,
 as it was when it tipped us into the ocean

Me, laughing

The rest of the day was pretty good.  We got a lot done on the boat and readied ourselves to go north.

We have august company at the dock.  The boat next to us is the 190 foot sailboat, Ethereal.  My photos do not do it justice.  It attracts people with cameras from miles away - you see the mast from there.  If you are interested, google S.V. Ethereal.  Be prepared for serious "sticker shock".  Docking is made more stressful when this boat is your next door neighbour; hope we don't nick their bow...

I couldn't even get the whole boat in one shot

For the sailors out there, look at the hardware on these sails!

When we first saw this boat from miles away, we mistook the mast for a cell tower

A family from Japan sailed here aboard this very well equipped boat
There are a number of lovely children aboard and a little one is lounging in a hammock at the back
I'm impressed

Tomorrow, we are on our way to Blunden Harbour.  This is where we will wait for weather that permits us to round Cape Caution.  Cape Caution is a long journey in open ocean and could be the biggest challenge of our our trip.  We are suitably nervous.  Scared, actually.  Wish us luck!  Will report back from the other side.  Of Cape Caution, that is.  Loving it out here but seriously missing y'all.

*Full disclosure:  Neither Bill nor any member of his crew has ever fallen off his plank.