Nanaimo to Port Browning

Home port is beginning to feel close.

Port Browning usually bookends our Canadian cruising season—the first stop after we cross into Canada and the last before we return to the United States. Arriving here on the southbound trip brings a familiar mixture of satisfaction and reluctance. We’re nearing home, but we’re also running out of reasons to pretend the summer will go on indefinitely.

This morning began a little earlier than usual to catch slack water at Dodd Narrows. We arrived about eighteen minutes ahead of slack and passed through with three knots of current pushing us along from astern. At high water, the ride was smooth and uneventful, just the way we like our narrows.

The favorable current stayed with us for much of the trip, finally giving up its assistance as we made the turn into Port Browning.

Along the way, the approaches to Active Pass provided the usual ferry-watching exercise. As we entered Navy Channel, ferries seemed to be arriving from several directions at once, each with somewhere to be and a schedule to keep. After enough trips through these waters, the choreography becomes familiar, though it still deserves our full attention.

Port Browning had the feel of late season. There were plenty of boats at anchor, but the bay had settled down from the busier days of summer. Room to breathe, and a comfortable place to pause before the border crossing.

the sunrise at port browning was worth getting up for

Once settled, our attention turned to a less scenic part of international cruising: the contents of the refrigerator.

We had spent considerable time sorting through what we could bring back into the States, including several conversations with AI to help make sense of the restrictions. The resulting meal plan for our final two days in Canada was becoming an exercise in inventory management.

Breakfast ashore at the Copper Otter was the first casualty. We had eggs aboard that needed attention. Even a visit to the pub seemed unlikely, given the meals already planned and the provisions we hoped to work through.

Then our friends aboard Eagle’s Gig called. They were arriving in Port Browning on their way north and wondered whether we would join them at the pub for dinner.

Of course we would.

The carefully arranged menu immediately required another revision. Tonight’s dinner aboard became an afternoon cooking project, with a few portions destined for the freezer while we went ashore to enjoy a meal with friends.

There are practical reasons to make plans, and equally good reasons to abandon them.

Ours remain written in sand—with an invitation to the pub apparently all it takes to rearrange the lettering.

port borwning bids us a fond farewaell until next time