When I was told there would be a boat available to me in Campbell River, I knew I had to take advantage of the opportunity. What sailor wouldn’t jump at the chance? But there’s some important context—it wasn’t my boat and I’d be bringing my 2-year-old son on what would be our first big sailing adventure.
Though I spend a lot of time on the water for work, I have been yearning for a good cruise; especially since selling my 40-foot C&C and becoming a domesticated landlubber. My brother George’s misfortune to put his Desolation Sound cruise on hold and return to work turned into my good luck when he extended me the offer to use his Fraser 41, Kist.
My wife and I are parents to two young children—our son Theo is 2, and his little sister was only 3 months old at the time. We quickly decided that our 3-month-old was not ready for the trip, so she would stay home with mom. I couldn’t wait to get cruising, and I was excited about sharing the boating lifestyle with Theo in such an extraordinary region. Still, a sailing trip with just me and Theo seemed impossible.
Enter my childhood friend Collin, who is neither a sailor nor a parent, but is overflowing with compassion and patience. Adding Collin’s set of helping hands and supervising eyes made this escapade doable. Our crew was assembled, and we were ready for Desolation.
After the journey to Campbell River—which was long and required a drive, a ferry ride, and more driving—reality quickly set in. We started with an extensive familiarization of Kist with George, who stayed the first night on the boat with us to help us get settled, and his walk-through was essential. She’s a great sailboat but, with her age and a couple different system upgrades, she has some idiosyncrasies.
“Batteries are good, not great. If the voltage gets down to this, then fire up. Don’t trust the engine temp alarm. Don’t let the engine idle too low or it shakes too much. Briefly throttle up and down before changing gears. Here’s how the composting head works. Here’s how the autopilot works. This is how you deploy and stow the outboard to the dinghy. Here is how you stern tie.” This went on for hours, and anyone who has spent time with a toddler can imagine just how divided our attention was as we went along. After going over everything, I was feeling a little overwhelmed. Then came the noggin bonking.
Theo quickly found that we were no longer in an open floor plan living room. His every movement seemed to cause a screaming injury, mostly to the head. This challenge was offset by his happy discovery that this new space came with plenty of toddler-level button boxes and breakers. Any time a system did not seem to be working properly, the first step of troubleshooting was asking, “What is Theo messing with now?” He was absolutely nonstop in unearthing novel things to play with.
After an intensive first day, it was finally bedtime. I started by trying to put him down in the quarter berth, which did not have a door. That lesson didn’t take long to learn: this would not work because he was constantly crawling out to see what the adults were up to. We moved up to the V-berth. With the door closed, there was a deep hole down to the step, so I packed this space with some gear bags so he couldn’t fall down into it. After reading Bruce the Bear, I squeezed the door shut against the gear bags. Soon after, he was sound asleep.
I slumped down on the settee exhausted, stressed, and processing feelings of doubt and regret. This trip seemed to be too much for us. Collin and I hung out for a bit before I quietly slithered past the gear bags and crawled into the V-berth with Theo and crashed immediately, weary in every way.
Around 6:30 a.m. I got a nudge from Theo, giving the cue that it was time for me to start the day. I got him comfortable and distracted while I tried to fry him an egg. Throughout our cruise, cooking was challenging and required some serious multitasking in order to keep him from messing with something he shouldn’t while also working in the galley. As the trip continued, Collin and I eventually found our groove taking turns cooking while the other tried to keep Theo distracted and out of trouble.
Wrapping up breakfast, we got underway and headed for Gorge Harbor. This, like most of our itinerary, was based on George’s recommendation. I’d never cruised Desolation Sound before, so it was all new to me, and all exciting to explore.
Cooking wasn’t the only rhythm we honed, our daily routine rapidly took shape. Over breakfast and coffee, we would firm up our cruising plans for the day and get going. Once underway, we would take turns running the boat or running Theo, depending on the situation. With some coaching, Collin was soon competent steering the boat under sail and power, which freed me up to prepare snacks and change diapers. We found it best for us to be underway for Theo’s naptime, which worked well most of the time, especially with the soothing Volvo lullaby.
On one particular day early in the trip, the nap got cut very short. Not long after putting Theo down, the wind piped up and it was time to sail. Breeze quickly built into the high twenties. After managing sails and having a blast, I figured I should check on Theo. Stepping down the companionway, I could hear him screaming. I opened the door to the V-berth and found him pinned to the port side along with a couple of his books and toys—being heeled over meant naptime was over.
Higher wind situations were always exceptionally difficult because we both would need to be mostly hands-on with the boat, while also holding Theo. We had hoped in those situations that a simple tether would be a safe and happy compromise for him. Keeping him tethered, unfortunately, proved to make him miserable and became a safety concern of its own since he would perpetually trip on or snag the tether. So, when it was spicy out, he pretty much just had to be held.
Through all this, we did actually go cruising. Our focus was always partly, sometimes entirely, on Theo, but along the way we got to visit some of this region’s most beautiful cruising destinations—Gorge Harbor, Prideaux Haven, Toba Inlet, Walsh Cove, and Tenedos Bay. Of course, there are so many incredible spots to explore that I’m eager to go back again and stop in other locations.
We ended up appreciating the point-to-point travel and wound up checking out as many spots as possible, but probably enjoyed our two-night layover stays in Prideaux Haven and Walsh Cove most of all. We ran into some friends anchored in Prideaux Haven, and had a great time catching up with them.
Toba Inlet was super cool because of the waterfall, but Walsh Cove was the destination highlight for me. The scenery is pretty dramatic. It’s a little hole in the wall you go into, and there was quite a lot of wildlife. With its warmer water, Walsh was also a great spot for swimming and paddleboarding.
We found that it was good for everybody to get off the boat and stretch our legs. We dinghied over to check out the island in Walsh Cove, which is very pretty with its cliffs. When we were in Tenedos Bay, we hiked up to Unwin Lake. It was kind of a scramble for Theo, but he walked pretty much the whole way by himself. At the lake, there was a little lagoon with a log across part of it, just a foot or two deep—perfect for Theo. He played in there, and we could swim in deeper water just on the other side of the log. I’m not sure I’ve seen a loon before, definitely not up close, but one visited us while we were swimming, calling over and over. So cool.
My learning on this trip wasn’t only about boat life with Theo. I didn’t have much experience stern-tying, so I got some practice with that. In fact, in Tenedos Bay, I had a little help from a neighbor. We got there on a Friday with a pack of boats, it was fairly crowded and we spent a long time looking for the right spot. Just when I thought I had found it, a guy came out of his boat to say we’d be right on top of his anchor if we dropped there. Helpfully, he advised us to drop right next to his boat and back down to where we were. That worked great, and we got settled accordingly. Busy as Tenedos was, it also turned out to be a good spot for swimming and paddleboarding.
I wish I could say parenting on the boat was perfectly happy and under control by the end of the trip, but it wasn’t and I was still wiped out by the end of every day. We had at least one temper tantrum each day, and a couple hundred questions formulated as, “Doing and why?”
Still, some things did get easier and I gained confidence that it was all manageable. Even Theo quickly gained situational awareness of the various hazards of this new environment and began moving about the cabin and deck with ease.
Each day also came with dance parties, singalongs, silly faces, and experiences that I will never forget—such as watching a pod of orcas cruising by the boat during a sunset, all the paddleboard rides and swims in the various warm anchorages, our Unwin Lake loon friend, and pulling the bow right up to Toba Inlet’s giant waterfall. The general expectation is that kids don’t form permanent memories until they’re around three, so Theo probably will forget these experiences, but I am convinced that they planted a seed in him.
As a greenhorn parent with a draw to the sea, I wrestle with conflicting ideals. People say you can do pretty much anything with little kids, and that’s mostly true. There is no shortage of examples of rock star parents pulling off amazing adventures with their tots. However, just because you can, does not necessarily mean you should. If embarking on these adventures will diminish your sanity, make your child unhappy, or put them in an unsafe condition, what is the point? You are better off going to the park, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with going to the park.
On the other hand, I believe exposing children to as many of these experiences as possible must be a good thing. Additionally, what example am I setting for my kids if, in raising them, I leave my own passions that have formed me into the person I am by the wayside. I will continue to find that line and wrestle it to the ground.
I learned so much on this first cruise together that it makes me even more excited for our future as a boating family. I think a lot about what that might look like. Hopefully we can continue to have access to Kist, but so many approaches could work. A little trailerable power boat with a cabin would check a lot of boxes for us; I love the idea of a fast semi-trailerable sailboat like a Corsair F31; and I’m intrigued with the idea of micro-cruising to more remote lakes and waterways with something like a Siren 17.
Ultimately, there is no replacement for a large sailboat that can comfortably and safely take our family of four up the Inside Passage, and that’s still the central dream, one fairly close to this test-run I completed with Theo.
Looking back on this first big journey, I felt as prepared as I could have been, physically and mentally. But it was still enlightening just how difficult it was, and how rewarding. Parents cruising with kids, this isn’t the cruising you’ve done in the past, but it is so special and I wouldn’t trade it. And to do it in a place like Desolation Sound, I feel very grateful and lucky, and look forward to the next adventure.
Max Fleischfresser and his family live in Bellingham, Washington. He earns a living as a tugboat captain working for Foss Maritime Company.
