June 3, 2008

June 3, 2008
Awaking to the sound of definite rain early this morning, it was wonderful to roll back over, in a warm and comfortable bed. I had spent enough summers camping in tents or tent-trailers with small children to appreciate the luxury that Liberte’ provides us. As the morning dawned to shades of grey, one that all Northwesterners know, we slowly began the day. Looking out the windows or the companionway gave the same view; clouds that met the darker shade of water or veiling the islands surrounding our home for two nights, Spencer’s Spit on Lopez Island.
When we arrived last evening around 7 PM, there were two other boats tied to buoys. After rowing ashore to register for our stay for two nights, I noted two sets of kayakers. I didn’t stay around long enough to see if they were campers or just day visitors and drove away in cars. The empty buoys are an indicator that the potential of a bay full of families. Right now, I have the sense of lone travelers – discovering new places yet to be filled with the trappings of civilization and commercialization, is omnipresent. The old cabin, (built between 1913-20), resting wearily at the end of the spit reminds visitors of a pioneering family. My imagination gives way to a sense of wonder as the Sun would rise over Frost Island, and Blakely Island then set over a little rise in the island lined with tall trees. Seagulls and a variety of other sea birds would rest or forage in the salt water marsh nearby. It is a restricted wildlife habitat. From a short distance, from the spit or moorage today’s visitors can watch the passage of the San Juan Ferries commute to various islands and back to Anacortes. The wake of the ferry may rock the boat for a short bit, were that not present, I have a very hard sense of realizing that I’m on a boat and not on solid ground.
I remember the first time Pat took me on a cruise; my thoughts were that one would be rocked to sleep as the waves worked. Not so. When tied to a buoy or anchored, as my little experience has it, there is no real sense of where one is. Yet, stand up and look out a window and the world is constantly moving around! Mother Nature has been good and the experience of a good storm (?) hasn’t been added to my repertoire – yet. There was a night that the wind picked up while tied to a buoy at Sucia Island and a power boater, arriving in late evening, had not set his anchor well. Perhaps not enough rode let out to allow for such wind that picked up that night. Nevertheless, his boat pushed into French Silk and the clanking awoke me. We spent the rest of the night taking turns watching that our efforts of fending off the boat securely did not come undone. (Happy to report that there was no damage to either boat.)
With rain showing absolutely no sign of letting up today, (it’s now 3:30 PM), we are grateful that we made the choice yesterday to travel for 11+ hours. We had left the Blake Island dock before 7 AM because the tide was going to be a minus 3 at 10:30 AM. That would have left us short three feet with our seven foot keel. Not a good choice to stay. Pat likes to run the engine for a minimum of an hour each day to give the batteries a chance to return to a full charge. We do keep the lights to a minimum, but all the special amenities we have onboard, including the laptop, a radio to keep us up current with the politics and i-pod for peaceful background music do take energy. Being wise and careful planning, the Captain knew that the tide’s current would push us along. It did just that for all but a couple of small intervals. Sometimes up to an extra two knots. As on Sunday, the light wind was behind us and thus to get any distance whatsoever, we made the choice not to sail but to motor, hoping that a shift in the wind would allow us to sail awhile.
Our course was north past Seattle, Edmonds, (where out in the middle of Puget Sound, actually could log on to our Wi-Fi host!), heading north to the Swinomish Channel and ending in Padilla Bay. I had traveled the channel with Pat two years ago- heading south from my test cruise while dating. No problem, other than stay slow and go down the middle. We took one hour shifts. I did alright, we were going north and I was about to learn a new thing or two. Pat had me read in the Waggoner Cruiser Guide the hints to entering the slough. OK. I read about at the point of entry where one is to align two markers sitting high in the water, orange with white vertical lines in the middle, and not to deviate from this alignment. Well, after ticking off the markers up to this point, whew, that was easy enough, I lined them up by sitting near the stern, looking backward. “Turn now Pat.” Period. I thought my job is done, once they were aligned one behind the other. After the turn, you simply stay in the middle of the channel. WRONG! The ‘Best Mate’ must then keep vigilant watch and direct the Captain to move to port or starboard no matter how small the deviation, to keep from grounding the keel. Well this was a little more un-nerving than I comprehended the first time we made the turn in. Yes, Pat turned the boat around just inside the entrance, explained once more what he needed and I heard it differently this time. I’m happy to say we made the journey up the slough without any problems. It is so interesting to see a town from another vantage point. My daughters and I have many happy memories spending the day in La Conner on a day off from school. Girls, upon seeing the Calico Cupboard I laughed, remembering the time I told the waitress, “No I don’t need to order, we already did.” It was one of those overload moments mothers have now and again. It would be fun to go back and have lunch there for old-times sakes. Channel traffic was light with cruisers and only one trawler loaded with empty pots was returning from sea. The last remark I will make about the passage up the channel was trusting the maps when they describe the stationary height of the bridges. Our mast is 62 feet. The clearance was 75 feet, but my gut was tight as we moved under them.
We considered stopping in Anacortes, it was around 3-4 PM. The tide was still “pushing“ Liberte’ forward, the winds were light to almost non-existent and decided that completing the day’s journey to Spencer’s Spit was our choice. Passing Cherry Point Refinery, I got the opportunity to talk with Justin, Sunny’s significant other. In retrospect we are pleased that we made this choice. Rain all day until 4 PM made us celebrate that we weren’t traveling with foul-weather gear, and struggling with low-visibility. Rather we spent the day relaxing, snug within a cabin, coffee and mocha lattes within arms reach and stack of reading to select from.
By 4 the rain had stopped, the clouds had lifted above the surface of the water. Pat bailed out the Minto, wiped the seats and rowed me to shore for a little walk around the salt marsh. Red-winged blackbirds eluded to the fact their presence, with their wonderful songs. Along much of the perimeter, white lettuce kelp highlighted the marsh. We saw no wildlife utilizing the safe habitat however the stillness was worthy of many photos. From there we walked up through the paths with trees that created an arched walkway, one lone rabbit nibbled the fresh grass, keeping a safe distance from us. Wild roses, white and pink were in bloom, offering the air a sweet fragrance.
Spring is ending, summer will be here soon and with it the number of people occupying the 16 buoys on the north and south shores of the spit, the kayak shop with its reserve of kayaks stacked, waiting to be rented, the campsites today empty, will be filled, with smoke of driftwood fires drifting up and away according to the whims of the wind. I am glad to have visited this favorite spot of many shortly before it is filled to capacity which would give it the sense of at the local park at home rather than a wilderness – tranquility.