Victoria, BC, meet Ho-Beaux

Let's start this off on a high note... We are in Victoria, BC, on Vancouver Island! Here we are, in the mega-bad-assest, pimp-stylingest, high-rolleresque slip this boat and its crew have ever seen, in front of the Empress Hotel. Fitting accommodations for a self-proclaimed Commodore and crew, I must say. Except for the showers, four shared between all the boats in the harbour, hidden next to the Customs dock a few blocks from the Empress. A line of pre-coffee boaters had to be braved in the quest for cleanliness.



I'd like to say that, since our arrival Tuesday, we've been out enjoying the town and doing all the great touristy stuff in the area, but in fact Wednesday was spent with Karl deep in the dungeons of Ho-Beaux's bilges, trying to fit large tools into narrow spaces, with Mariann filling a supervisory and tool-delivery role. More on this in a minute.
98 percent of the sail across the Straights of Juan de Fuca was uneventful. That leaves two percent, one departing and one arriving. Leaving Port Townsend, we were happy to find a moderate breeze as we rounded Point Wilson, so we gladly raised the sails. Just past the point, a bank of fog enveloped us, so we turned on GPS. Hey, we're going 7 knots! In a slight breeze! Master sailors, we.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a giant, roaring, red, possessed navigation buoy flies at us from the fog bank! What demonic forces are allied against our journey!? Fortunately, our intrepid commodore and crew managed to start the engine. But still the buoy charged right at them, thundering like the wrath of Poseidon! At the last moment, we fooled the monster with a sharp swerve, and it missed us by mere yards.
After collecting ourselves and changing undergarments, we realized that maybe this fine sailing wind wasn't really wind, that maybe we aren't good enough sailors to go 7 knots in a 5-knot breeze, and that maybe rather than worrying about demonically possessed buoys, it could be more productive to worry about tide and current charts.
But lessons do evaporate quickly in long sunny days on the water. After we got Victoria in sight, we messed around with a new sail arrangement for a while rather than trying to beat the incoming tide. We paid for that mistake by an extra hour or so of motoring full throttle and making 2 kts headway. . .
Okay, this leaves the other one percent. Karl noticed when docking at the Canadian Customs dock (*) that reverse gear was a bit spotty. Strange, since we JUST GOT A NEW #$%@$%^ TRANSMISSION installed a couple weeks ago. Well, whatever, let's go to our slip in front of the Empress. Now, the Empress Hotel is the tourist center of this quadrant of the Milky Way galaxy, and people of all stripes mill about the waterfront where the boats pull up. Many of the docks are full, with well-to-do boaters sunning on the deck or enjoying an apertif. My, here comes a rather classic-looking sailing vessel, with a comely lass on the rail. It pulls slowly into the long slip. Now's the time when the Captain usually guns reverse to bring the vessel to a halt, and the lass ties the ropes to secure it to the dock. But wait, this captain just stares, horrified, as his gearbox clanks and bounces, but spins no propellers, while the boat heads for certain lawsuits.
See, here is why I highly recommend you select crew of only the highest durability. As an anchor drags along the bottom before setting, so did Mariann drag along the dock, until the sheer friction stopped the boat. Ho-Beaux has landed!
The end to the gear-shift saga isn't too interesting. It was a matter of slightly adjusting the shifting lever on the transmission (we hope), although as mentioned before, this involved fitting large tools into narrow spaces.

It was the (also brand new) alternator that kept us working all day. The cartoon that served as the installation instructions failed to show how to wire it appropriately, unless you speak alternatorese. The folks who sold it to us, it turned out, didn't speak alternatorese either. I think I finally figured out how to wire it so it both turns on and doesn't overcharge the batteries, so things like the VHF radio won't turn on in order to protect their innards. This involved dismounting the alternator and adding a wire. Hm, funny, this mounting bracket seems a bit loose. Oh, wait, it's CRACKED OFF AT THE BOLT.
So... this is either really unlucky (because the darn thing, after 30 years, cracked and broke off) or really lucky (because it broke off in Victoria Harbor and not the Pacific Ocean). I tried hand-drilling a new hole, but our bits were too dull. We carried the bracket into town to look for a repair or replacement. Now, I don't know, maybe this is a Canadian thing, but so far 100% (one out of one) of the machinists we've met have been very attractive young ladies who will repair brackets and such things for $5 Canadian! Fixed bracket in hand, drool wiped off of Karl's mouth, we returned to the boat and finished installing the alternator.
This is why we haven't yet done any normal touristy activities to speak of. We plan to see more of the local sights on Thursday, before departing for either Sooke Harbour or Port San Juan, depending on conditions, on Friday.
(*) Yeah, you pull up at this dock with a yellow phone on it. Pick it up, and you get Customs. "What's your boat name? Who's on board? Been to Canada before? Bringing in any beer, wine, or potatoes?" [Foreign potatoes are NOT WELCOME in Canada!!!] "Okay, thanks, write this number and put it in your window, have a nice day." No dudes with uniforms and guns. It will be interesting to compare this with USA re-entry.