Kathy wanted a place to kayak and try her hand at crabbing so we decided to go to Sidney Spit. It’s an idyllic spot at Sidney Island as long as the weather is settled.
We were tired of all the loud noises at Victoria. The B.C. parliament demonstrators, the planes, the sirens, the cars screeching. We could finally get some peace and quiet. We only made one mistake – we were right under the international airport flight path. So lots of peace, no quiet.
As we hiked the paths of Sidney island, Kathy made her plans known. “I want to go crabbing tomorrow.”
I did not want to go crabbing. “I want to take naps” I said. We’d just been through boot camp with Casey’s visit. Surely I couldn’t be denied a few days of rest. “We should do that another time.”
Kathy went for her tried and true strategy. “It’s okay! I’ll go myself!”
I tried to get a read on her. Was she bluffing? “How are you going to get the kayak down?” I asked smugly.
“You don’t need to worry about it.”
“But I’ll help.”
“I don’t need it!”
I paused, searching for a way to regain the upper hand. “But you’ll get hurt!”
“You needn’t concern yourself.”
Incensed with anger, I replied, “It’s too dangerous to go alone. I’m going with you. “
Kathy continued to walk silently and I could see a smug little smile form on her face.
The next morning the wind had kicked up. Kathy had already purchased a 1-day crabbing license for $8 Canadian dollars so we were committed.
It was a cold wind and I felt my body shutter as it blew through my clothes. I was wearing a pair of sweats under my pants and wool socks. I was still cold. This just wasn’t going to be very fun.
Kathy happily fiddled below in the warmth getting her outfit in order. She found her scarf, ensured the beanie cap was on straight, got the jacket zipped up just right and did her final checks in the mirror. I began to speak up and quickly shut up. Kathy had a propensity to slow down when I rushed her.
We didn’t have much onboard to use as crab bait. So when we were on our hike, we came across a small pile of dried sausage someone had left out for the wildlife. We’d taken it for bait. Kathy found a can of clams and wanted to use that as the bait. But I insisted that the sausage was the better option. We had time for two 3-hour soaks on our trap. Kathy acquiesced, knowing she could use her inferior choice of clams in the second soak.
I started to dutifully load the dinghy. First the crab trap, the dinghy anchor, Kathy’s bucket full of miscellaneous junk. I then grabbed her backpack and as I swung it around to place it in the dinghy, something fell out. It had glanced off my foot as it hit the water. I quickly tried to identify it. It was small and rectangular. It looked pink. Was it Kathy’s cellphone? Oh my gosh!
It started to sink. It was only 3 feet away and only a bit under the surface. If I dove into the water… All I could think of was a Star Trek quote, “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.” In this context, I decided I was the needs of the many. It was logical to stay on the boat. As I briefly contemplated my options I noticed that the object was no longer in sight.
Kathy came up to the cockpit and I immediately took the offensive. “You left your cell phone on the backpack. Who does that?! It’s lost! It fell into the water! You can’t just lay things on other things…”
Kathy interrupted me, “What are you talking about?” She held out her hand showing me her cell phone. My knees buckled. I immediately felt for my cell phone. I felt my heart pound inside my chest. Phew! It was in my pocket.
What did we lose, you ask? We have no idea. Some say that nothing really fell into the water and it was just the delusions of a crazy old man. Some say it really happened and that the old woman conjured up her phone from the depths of hell. I’ll let the reader draw their own conclusions.
As Kathy looked at the navigation app on her phone, she gave me confusing and misleading instructions on where to go. She said we needed to drop the trap on a 20′ shelf (our friend, Kelly, had tipped her off that all the crabs were there). But I was trying to go as fast as we could, make the drop, and get back to the warm, cozy boat.
The wind was building and the ride back was rough. Wind waves splashed over the side of the dinghy and each time it happened Kathy would turn back towards me and look disappointed.
After 3 hours, I was informed that it was time to fetch our dinner. Adventure was pitching on the fetch that had come into the anchorage. I didn’t feel well and the thought of Kathy cooking the crabs turned my stomach.
After finding the crab trap buoy, Kathy pushed me aside and began to pull the trap up. I could see the determination in her eyes. She was out for blood. I felt a little sorry for the crabs.
“I can see the cage,” She yelled.
Kathy pulled the trap up and placed it on the pontoon of the dinghy. Nothing! Just a chunk of seaweed. Kathy looked at me in disgust as she grabbed for her can of clams.
We threw the trap back in and headed to shore for a walk since Adventure was rocking too much for our liking. It didn’t take long for Kathy to convince me we could just sail across the US/Canadian border and grab a mooring ball at Stewart Island. It’s well-protected from the SW winds lashing us in this anchorage. If we left right away, the currents would still be in our favor.
We jumped in the dinghy to collect our crab trap, which had only been soaking for 45 minutes. I had two small crabs in it. One immediately jumped to safety. The other looked back to us defiantly. It was too small and it knew it.
So the jury is still out on dried sausage or a can of clams for bait. Seems like only small crabs like the clams and we can’t keep those.
Tales of Misadventure 