Pam rolled up the headsail and I turned the motor on to cruise east through Gabriola Passage on a slack tide. We left the mainsail up. It was a blustery day in July and we looked forward to a beam reach across the Strait of Georgia to Gibsons. From the protection of the Flat Top Islands, Georgia Straight looked like a stampede of white horses. So we were a little eager and excited. After we exited the narrow pass, still protected by some small islands, Pam said, “Maybe we should put Farley ashore so he can pee. It’ll be a while before we’re in Gibsons.” Farley thought that was a good idea.
Launching Farley and Pam in the dinghy from our old boat Tesseract was a bit of a challenge. We walked through the stern railing and dropped the swim ladder onto the inflatable. I had attached a plank to the ladder so he could walk down into the boat. The shoreline on Gabriola was rocky and the current was gaining momentum. There wasn’t a lot of room for maneuvering. It would be a tough row for Pam. Farley wasn’t much help, he just stood on the bow looking like the king of the ocean.
Eventually they made it to shore and Farley scampered about and did his business before jumping back in the dinghy. Pam began the pull back to the boat, which I’d put in a holding pattern. I positioned the boat so we could pick them up on our lee side. We’d have to be skillful to make the rendezvous work.
Seeing the two of them in that small boat rowing back to Tesseract on this beautiful day made me smile. I savoured the moment.
Then, about halfway back to Tesseract, the dinghy went into a frantic circular motion after a pin on the starboard oarlock broke. Wind and current took over and the dinghy started to drift toward the shoreline. Pam made some effort to paddle the dinghy like a canoe but an inflatable could never mimic a canoe so Tesseract had to circle around to pick them up before they drifted away. We were under power, but I still had to manage the mainsail in the wind. It looked like I might only get one shot at recovering my drifting crew before they met the rocky shore.
When I did intersect the drifting dinghy, Pam had one chance to grab onto the side and hold on till I could grab the painter. Pam felt like her arm was being pulled off but eventually the dinghy was nosed up to the swim grid and the crew made it back on board. Farley thought this was a great adventure. Although I’m not sure he liked all the fuss we were making.
Pam and I have been sailing with Farley, our black goldendoodle, every summer for eight years. He’s turned into a pretty good sailor. You may remember I first wrote about Farley in 2014, (Cruising with the Dog) and the challenges of cruising with our new pup. While many boaters would rather tackle a giraffe than have a dog on board, there’s a bunch of us who are so attached to our furry friends that we’d never consider leaving them at home. I’ve met a few shipshape cats out there too.
Farley watches Pam and I closely as we’re provisioning our new boat, Nakia, for the next trip. His expression and his eyes say, “Don’t you dare leave me on the dock.” Farley is OK with sailing if it means being with us. So, we pack up Farley’s food, his special blanket, a couple of rubber balls and a lifejacket and we set sail from Comox for another adventure.
In 2017, we traded our Mirage 33 Tesseract for Nakia, a Catalina 36, and Farley was happy about that. He can now stretch out in the larger cockpit and walk right out into the dinghy and not have to bother with that silly ramp we used on Tesseract. One of our wishes for the new boat was a friendlier companionway that would be good for Farley. We used a clumsy folding ramp on Tesseract that had to be stowed away several times a day.
We brought Farley and Tisha, our daughter’s husky shepherd cross, to see the new boat and test the stairway into the cabin. Tisha took one look at it and easily scampered up and down the stairs by herself, setting a wonderful visual model for Farley to follow. Our hope was that the new steps would work for Farley. Unfortunately, it was not to be.
I got tired of trying to coax him down the stairs which evolved into his solution, which was to leap headlong from the top of the companionway down onto the cabin sole. We had to put out a mat for a landing pad. So last year I salvaged a plank off a beach in the Copeland Islands to make a new ramp for Farley. Now he uses the plank. It sits on the third step down and crosses to the nav table chair. Ridiculous! But it works. He’s too old to be making that huge jump.
He’s not particularly demanding, but there are some things Pam and I must attend to every day for his well being. Obviously shore trips for bathroom breaks are essential. Daily swims and stick chasing sessions are also essential.
Farley’s been most places from Canoe Cove to The Octopus Islands. With all the cool small towns and amazing anchorages we’ve visited, his favourite place to be is on a beach, with a stick. He loves swimming off the sandstone at Newcastle Island because he can roll in the field close to the beach and the sandstone is easy on his feet. We find a chunk of driftwood, preferably about the size of a baseball bat and hurl it out over the water. The spin of the wood sailing through the sunset light, the splash, and the launch into the water are the essence of life for retrievers. Nothing else (well maybe food) holds a retriever’s interest like the retrieval dance.
While Farley likes the beach, Pam and I love to shut off the motor, trim the sails and feel the pulse of the boat driving through the wind, settling into the waves and cruising like determined explorers. Farley doesn’t mind sailing. He loves the size of cockpit (much bigger than Tesseract’s), the little carpet we lay out for him when we’re underway and how easy it is to get off the boat through the walkthrough transom. He hasn’t much interest in sailing when the wind gets up though. Like some humans, the calmer the sea, the happier he is. In fact, he sort of dislikes waves the way you dislike a trip to the dentist as a 12-year-old. He tolerates them but would just as soon stay on the dock and sleep if we stayed with him.
On one particularly windy crossing in Tesseract from Gibsons to Silva Bay, a big wave hit us amidship and broke into the cockpit. We were all soaked, but Farley especially was not impressed with his shower. Water dripped off the end of his nose, his back was soaked and he lowered his head to the floor and waited for the next one, which never came. His life jacket afforded only small protection from the deluge. To his credit though, he’s stoic in his dislike of wind and waves.
And when we’re out, either sailing or motoring, Farley enjoys a stroll to the bow to have a look around. Although, if the boat is heeled much, he’s pretty cautious. He’ll stand on the high side at the edge of the cockpit considering the dexterity it takes to step over and walk forward along the deck. Often, if the boat is moving around with the waves a bit too high, we’ll say, “Farley, NO!” And I think he’s grateful. He steps back down to the floor and lies down. When he does make it to the bow in calmer water, he’ll glance back at us hoping for some clue that we’re soon going to be at the dock or at anchor. Nevertheless, he loves standing at the bow, ears flowing in the breeze, using his nose to scope out a hint of land, or something to eat on the beach.
Speaking of the beach, retrievers like to eat, right? Farley’s mom was a golden retriever and she likely passed on the obsession with food. Well, Farley likes to eat beach stuff and we spend a fair bit of time around beaches. Pam and I will be strolling along beachcombing and feeling that warm satisfaction that comes from the water’s edge as the sun goes down. And though we’re surrounded by all this beauty, there might be Farley, chowing down on some nasty organic matter. “Farley, no!” we shout again. “No! Put that down!” When he hears our displeasure, he eats faster, and as we stomp toward him looking angry, he scampers away half running, half jumping, as if it were some sort of game.
Now, one might ask what all the fuss is about with Farley and his beach snacks. What’s the worst that couple happen? On several occasions after eating beach nastiness, he’s acquired a gut infection, and a sort of biological war begins. The result is that Farley needs shore trips far more often which includes several times during the night. At 02:00 we’ll hear his pleas to get off the boat and go to the bathroom. Again at 04:00, again at 06:00, and so on. So, the summer cruise is temporarily put on hold while we find a vet and buy the antibiotics that he needs to remedy the situation. (See First Aid for Pets Onboard, September 2021).
The nearest vet to Lund, for example, is in Powell River. The cost of a taxi there and back, the vet bill and the extra day of staying in Lund makes Farley’s little foray on the beach expensive. For some, leaving the dog at home for the sailing adventure is obviously the sensible thing to do. No extra dirt and sand, no limit to how far you can go in a day and no vet bills. For Pam and me, leaving Farley at home would be like leaving a child at home. So, we take that risk every summer, and last summer, we avoided the vet trip! By the way, the vet we visited in Powell River was excellent!
In the summer, Pam and I often end up cruising with old friends from Squamish who we’ve sailed with for years. Most of us have moved away so when we get together again there’s a familiarity in our routines and a special camaraderie. And everybody loves Farley. They’re all glad to see him and he knows it. Farley hangs out in the cockpit with us during happy hour, loves the walks to the market on Cortes Island or around De Courcy Island.
A couple of summers ago, we were rafted up with several boats in Tenedos Bay. Farley seemed keen to go with our friend, Chuck, and three other folks we hadn’t met before, for a hike up the trail to the famous Canadian flagpole. Pam and I stayed on Nakia and Farley went off in the dinghy, happy for an adventure. He knew Chuck pretty well, so we were confident he’d be fine.
Farley stayed with the group on the way up but on the way back down he vanished. The group became quite concerned when they couldn’t find him on the trail. It turned out Farley felt the disconnect from us and started a desperate swim back to the boat all by himself. One of the group went out in the dinghy thinking Farley might have taken to the water. Another boater in the area called out, “Are you looking for a dog? One just swam by our boat!”
Chuck and the others hauled Farley into the dinghy, and they all headed back to the rafted boats, happy they had found the soggy beast. Attachment is a pretty powerful force and maybe he felt the separation from me and Pam. Or maybe he was hungry. It was dinner time after all.
Farley’s almost 10 now and he’s lost some of his puppy antics, mellowed with age as they say. He’s not quite as nimble around the boat. Mind you, neither are we, now officially being senior citizens and all.
Pam and I are anticipating our next trip and we replaced Farley’s old PFD with a fancy new orange one. I hope he likes it.