Environment Canada reports aside, we knew from the sound of wind and the speed of puffy clouds across the sky it was pretty rough out in the Strait. So we decided we’d stick our nose out the next morning and if it wasn’t comfortable we’d just come back to our cozy anchorage. But it was perfect. Sunderland Channel monochrome in the dawn light. Out in Johnstone, the water bluing, crawling with tiny random whitecaps, like maggots on spoiled blue cheese. As the morning ripened, the suns rays seemed to fall on us alone, pushing us though a complete rainbow! (Note to self: inquire about a camera lens sufficiently wide to capture a complete rainbow.)
Watching for the usual renegade logs, we bypassed Port Neville, going on, the seas now the color and texture of old wet slate. It reminded me of the sidewalk in Whitesboro village, where we still lived, back before suburbia spoiled everything, in the days when kindergarteners made their way to and from school on their own.