I’d always figured boating was a hobby best suited to those with flexible lives, not for those with tight schedules and certainly not with two businesses to run, a sand festival to organize, and negotiations for sale of a condo in Calgary!

But get away we did. It took several days to organize everything and load the boat with our newly purchased charts, clothing, and sustenance for a 5-day trip. I learned from a trip to Desolation Sound three years ago that despite sounding desolate, in truth, as long as you remain on the inside passages, there is always a grocery/liquor store close at hand, and better yet, a good restaurant.

 With that in mind, I only packed items harder to find in small marinas: fresh tomatoes, a head of lettuce (heads last much longer than delicate mixed greens), lemons and limes, apples, cheeses, a good 8-grain bread, and polenta. I justified that freeing up storage space entitled me to pack more shoes!

We had booked the first night at Genoa Bay. With its great dining room, picturesque docks and float homes, dock-side craft store and café, it has become one of our favourite destinations.

It was the evening of Day one; and we were still in Silva Bay. We went to dinner on the patio, and tried to pretend we were in Genoa, even though we ended up sitting with friends from Gabriola. We slept like babies in our “cradle” that night, dreaming of Day two in “Otter Bay.”

After enjoying coffee on the sunny patio next morning, we packed a lunch and went to Drumbeg Park, pretending it was a park on North Pender Island.  Located with a fabulous view of the ocean and mountains on the mainland, it was a perfect spot to while away a few hours reading; feeling completely relaxed and miles away from the cares of home. We thought: could Otter Bay have been any prettier?

For dinner that night, we barbecued the frozen foods we had packed and for dessert, walked up to the marina restaurant to share one of their famous, individually baked apple pies. Again, we thought: could we have eaten any better in Otter Bay?

After another pleasant night on the boat, we woke to a grey and windy morning….By day three, pretending to be tourists at Silva Bay had worn thin. Of course, we could have gone home, but after the effort it took to leave, there was no way we were going to drive even close to our end of the island.

Thanks to Mike, Sweet Pea, and their mechanics, we were fixed and back on schedule, ready to head off to our day-three stop: Montague Harbour.

From experience, we have learned that the best time to snare a mooring buoy in Montague is after 10AM, but before two.  Any later, you may find that you have to lurk for dawdlers (like ourselves) who prefer to enjoy the afternoon sun before heading off.

You know you are in Montague when you find yourself in a madly lurching old school bus, headed to the Hummingbird Pub, singing along to Fats Domino.  We had tried catching crab earlier—from the boat that is always at the docks—but he wasn’t there.

Dining at the Hummingbird is an experience. The bus ride there should be the first clue! I won’t say more other than it isn’t always about the food; sometimes it is more about enjoying a quirky island tradition. The reprises of “Walkin’ to New Orleans” and “I found my thrill” definitely kicked up a notch on the return trip to the harbour.

The next morning, we enjoyed fresh baked goods from the Atrevida—the old Gabriola Ferry—although I was disappointed that the Tin can bread isn’t sold in the tin can anymore. I took this time to fix some carpets, realizing only after cutting the now rapidly unravelling rugs that someone had lost the duct tape. Who in their right mind would ever set out without duct tape on board?

We hated to leave, but someone was coveting our buoy, and we were anxious to be off to Schooner Cove for a rendezvous with our yacht club. I was also eager to use my polenta for Happy Hour. (Polenta is perfect boat food because it doesn’t require refrigeration, and after browning in a cast iron pan, it can be topped with anything from brie and cranberry chutney to sundried tomatoes and capers.)

There was a strong southeaster blowing, and most of the trip was uneventful, that is until Jordan decided to have a “peek” at Porlier Pass. I almost bailed when I began to feel like a tourist on the Maid of the Mist under Niagara Falls. Some people have a weird sense of adventure.

Schooner Cove is definitely not for those who prefer quaint and picturesque. It is a full-scale “lifestyle” development, with monster homes built into the hill, a huge golf course, large hotel, and I couldn’t count the number of boats. But it also has water hoses at every slip, life jackets for visiting children under a sign that reads, “Kid’s don’t float,” garbage for organics (because apple cores DO float), a lively restaurant with fresh crab, and duct tape.

We stayed two nights, and could have hung around another day, but we were suddenly homesick for our home port. And everything was just as we had left it; the world hadn’t collapsed because we were away for a few days. Now, if I could just get that song out of my head: “Ain’t that a shame…”