June 27, 2008
After all the stories we heard from several different skippers yesterday, we were prepared for the worst; forced to turn back and wait out a ferocious Straits of Georgia. Yesterday the reports were virtually the same as this morning’s- but the passage was so placid, the winds barely passed the 4 knot point until we were inside Pender Harbor. Yesterday was a different story. One skipper reported that in his 49 passages across the straits, he had not ever seen such chaos. Bill, in a 32’ Nordic Tug was forced back after taking waves over his kayaks atop his pilot house for seven miles. He had a hard time negotiating the waves to make a turn back. This morning Pat checked that everything on the deck was secured, closed the front hatch tight while I double checked everything in the cabin. We dressed for foul weather and wore our heavy-duty life jackets. We did not want to have to worry about changing in mid-storm, should yesterday repeat itself.
It wasn’t long before we were sweltering and peeling off a layer or two! The sun shone brightly, reflecting on the water’s surface. There was not a ripple or swell other than from a passing BC mega-ferry as we started out across the Straits of Georgia.. Not a single sea bird flew over or sat lazily on the water’s surface. The vast expanse was void of anything until we were through Whiskey Golf; an often restricted area used by the BC Coast Guard for testing torpedoes. As time is going by, I am learning to look at the water patterns and interpret what is close up and what to anticipate; checking the knot reading as to the correlation to the two. Very basic, yet it is something I am doing to understand and anticipate so I’m not caught off guard. A sea lion poked its head out and watched for a short while and a small silver, narrow fish jumped out of the water, catching my attention; was it running for its life or simply feeling like a good stretch? I searched the water’s surface behind where the fish had jumped, hoping that I would have an opportunity to see my first pod of orca. No such luck!
It wasn’t until a tug was going southbound that I had something catch my interest. The tug was pulling a log boom that different than I had ever seen before; it looked like an entire forest was in tow! Within an hour a second tug was pulling a smaller forest behind it. Cruising out in the middle of the straits, the immense body of water gave me a sense of what it might be like to sail out on the ocean. The good thing about cruising the interior bodies of water, there is always land- no matter how far away; it is always on your horizon and can be reached soon. The scenery is a series of islands that are densely populated with evergreens and madronas. Sandy beaches are few and far between for each island appears to be built on rugged solid rock formations that look as old as time its self. There are cliff walls that raise just a few feet from the water and others that stand hundred feet tall. The variations between the islands are not significant other than size and configuration. Pat is surprised at how people are expanding out into this last frontier. I have taken several photos and should we return over the years, it would be fun to compare today’s communities with what could become towns and cities of generous proportions.
It took us three hours to transit the straits and reach Welcome Passage. A few mountain tops are clinging to small patches of winter and late spring snow. Should we return this way, I shall be looking to see how much remains if any. There is one peak that when you first notice it, reminds one of a shark’s tooth. By the time we were directly across from it, my second thought was that it could also look like the dorsal fin of an orca. An old lumpy orca that had seen better days; the snowfield across the base of the dorsal fin would identify the pod he was from and the smattering of snow across the lower ridge would be the remaining markings to make him an individual l- one of distinct character.
We continued north up Marisposa Passage to Pender Harbor where there are a multitude of directions one can select to take for good safe mooring or going to tie up at a marina. We chose Garden Bay. It is filled with large homes that speak of a healthy economy in the region. They homes are along much of the coastline and then there are dense pockets of evergreen forests. While paddling our kayaks late this afternoon, we stopped to talk with a couple on Kelpie, a Hans Christian 33 who have a minto in tow. As it turns out, I know Tony from childhood. His mother and I worked together at the same radiology clinic in Burien; my first job at age 15 1/2. We have spent several hours talking to he and his wife this evening. It has been great fun and we anticipate that our journeys will find us meeting again in the next month.
Tomorrow we will get up early again so that we will be arriving at Malibu Rapids well before slack – just for good measure. The weather reports are stating good weather through the weekend. What a wonderful way for my introduction to Princess Louisa Inlet! My camera and I are ready to take in what many proclaim to be the 8th natural wonder of the world.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Transitioning
June 25, 2008
Somewhere between the first and last evening in Pirates Cove, a sense of letting go and enjoying where and what I am as best mate to my Captain Pat is more apparent every day. Sailing, being on the water or on shore, yet not far from our boat is almost as vital to Pat as it is to have a strong heart and clear mind. I know it is just a part of who he is; yet very viable factor to reckon with. The safe or fair weather sailing that I have participated in the past two years since we met has been fun, but not as important to me. Making the choice to be his Best Mate was a larger commitment than I thought it would be. Learning to let go of my choice of home, on shore, for this two month journey; was a great effort. With Pat’s patience, not taking the racer’s path of getting the ultimate push from whatever wind was available and allowing me to work it out in my time is working. Summer solstice has recently passed and with that Mother Nature has brought along the warmth of summer and stunningly long evenings which has definitely helped. The past couple of evenings, in Pirates Cove we sat in the cockpit with books in our laps and a vista that changed every time we looked up from the pages.
Last night, I hopped into my kayak to go ashore to call one of my daughters. The ride over was easy, and was easily distracted by stopping and talking to a great couple. They are the third couple that I’ve spoken with who have given up their homes, three-four sets of fine china and silver and downsized to a trawler. Each had hopes of sharing time together, exploring our great Northwest waterways and open to having their neighbors, although different daily or weekly, welcome onboard for good conversations and perhaps a shared meal. There is a common thread between cruisers.
I’m trying to figure what it is, this common thread; is it a curiosity to know what is around the next island? With this, comes intelligence, common sense, practicality, independence and self-reliance, generous with useful knowledge; I value each of these factors. And everyone has stories! Everyone I talk to has a vast library proportional – or larger, to the size of their vessel which they are willing to share or swap. They come in every shape, size, and age. If there are health issues the fresh air and activity involved with keeping the vessels afloat and cruising must be working for them. Or, it is as uncomplicated as a mindset to get out there and make the most of what one does have. The free gifts Nature has to offer, if one is willing to stop and observe, are out there. It just takes time to stop the rush of daily routines to take what is offered us.
Yesterday’s gifts: hearing the cacophony of eagles, seagulls, and ravens as I cleaned out the cabin, the sea lion that showed a willingness to converse with me as I paddled around the cove while catching the last rays of sunlight water that was as smooth as glass, and a sky that was painted with a few rose colored clouds that looked as if an Asia calligrapher had written a haiku across the sky then the wind gently spread it out.The water's surface reflected the image back. I can think of no material gift that could match these gifts I received. They would have been missed had I remained in my home.
Somewhere between the first and last evening in Pirates Cove, a sense of letting go and enjoying where and what I am as best mate to my Captain Pat is more apparent every day. Sailing, being on the water or on shore, yet not far from our boat is almost as vital to Pat as it is to have a strong heart and clear mind. I know it is just a part of who he is; yet very viable factor to reckon with. The safe or fair weather sailing that I have participated in the past two years since we met has been fun, but not as important to me. Making the choice to be his Best Mate was a larger commitment than I thought it would be. Learning to let go of my choice of home, on shore, for this two month journey; was a great effort. With Pat’s patience, not taking the racer’s path of getting the ultimate push from whatever wind was available and allowing me to work it out in my time is working. Summer solstice has recently passed and with that Mother Nature has brought along the warmth of summer and stunningly long evenings which has definitely helped. The past couple of evenings, in Pirates Cove we sat in the cockpit with books in our laps and a vista that changed every time we looked up from the pages.
Last night, I hopped into my kayak to go ashore to call one of my daughters. The ride over was easy, and was easily distracted by stopping and talking to a great couple. They are the third couple that I’ve spoken with who have given up their homes, three-four sets of fine china and silver and downsized to a trawler. Each had hopes of sharing time together, exploring our great Northwest waterways and open to having their neighbors, although different daily or weekly, welcome onboard for good conversations and perhaps a shared meal. There is a common thread between cruisers.
I’m trying to figure what it is, this common thread; is it a curiosity to know what is around the next island? With this, comes intelligence, common sense, practicality, independence and self-reliance, generous with useful knowledge; I value each of these factors. And everyone has stories! Everyone I talk to has a vast library proportional – or larger, to the size of their vessel which they are willing to share or swap. They come in every shape, size, and age. If there are health issues the fresh air and activity involved with keeping the vessels afloat and cruising must be working for them. Or, it is as uncomplicated as a mindset to get out there and make the most of what one does have. The free gifts Nature has to offer, if one is willing to stop and observe, are out there. It just takes time to stop the rush of daily routines to take what is offered us.
Yesterday’s gifts: hearing the cacophony of eagles, seagulls, and ravens as I cleaned out the cabin, the sea lion that showed a willingness to converse with me as I paddled around the cove while catching the last rays of sunlight water that was as smooth as glass, and a sky that was painted with a few rose colored clouds that looked as if an Asia calligrapher had written a haiku across the sky then the wind gently spread it out.The water's surface reflected the image back. I can think of no material gift that could match these gifts I received. They would have been missed had I remained in my home.
Pirates Cove and Tranquility!
June 23, 2008
From the books we have to educate us about the different spots that cruisers enjoy visiting, Pirates Cove had several facts to observe; the ground is muddy and many have troubles with anchors not securing, and the skipper must pay attention to the entrance as not to get stuck on the shoals on either side of the narrow entrance. To Pat, the marina on the starboard side as you enter, is a surprise to him. Boy has time allowed things to change.
This was another of Pat’s family favorite places to stay, and I can see why. There were several boats when we arrived, but half of them left before sunset. The cove was serene and a slice of heaven on earth. We are positioned not far from the entrance and as the boat pivots on its anchor, there is an opening between the main island and an islet. This is where I sat in the cockpit last night after dinner and watched the sun go down. It wasn’t a dramatic sunset with vibrant shades of red and gold. Rather shades of blues to cream gave the sky elegance, the stillness of the cove was a symphony I could understand and appreciated. I am in no hurry to leave this sanctuary.
This morning after a leisurely cup of coffee while reading our books, Pat installed a handle to assist us in getting back into the boat after kayaking. When purchasing the boat we thought the stern of the C & C 115 was going to be easy to use for entering and exiting kayaks or the dingy; but not necessarily so. The transom juts out just enough as to keep the little boats away and the only thing for us to grab onto is the backstay. If ONLY we were a little longer in the waist, reaching for the back stanchions could offer us what we needed. Today after kayaking around the cove, poking in and out of the water’s edge, we used the handle quite successfully.
I shall close for today. I smell my cinnamon-sticky buns so that must mean that they are about ready to take out of the oven. We have been invited to dingy over to some neighbors, Jan & John, at 6 tonight for appetizers and cocktails. I will bring the remaining Greek Pizza I made for dinner last night and the buns will be a hostess gift for their breakfast tomorrow morning. If all continues so peacefully for the next six weeks, the time will definitely fly by.
June 22, 2008 Northbound to Telegraph Harbor
After a refreshing and rejuvenating sleep the start to week four is beginning with a cheerful start. I made Pat a frittata this morning with bacon as a side. This is a treat for Pat since he had always banned cooking bacon, unless cooked on the BBQ. The oven worked wonders on the bacon and no mess as a bonus! There is virtually no wind and we are motoring north through Trincomali Channel, west to Houstoun Passage, then north again through Stuart Channel with a pass through Telegraph Harbor so I could connect to the internet to download his messages and upload the blog. He did offer the option of residing here for a night; I showed no interest after two nights in Montague Harbor and the feeling of living on a freeway. There are many sailboats playing more with the current than wind. We thought about joining them, but we were still in our first hour “run the engine mode”. By the time the second hour began we were sailing too. From that point we put up the sails and had an easy but delightful sail up to Ruxton Passage. For the racers out there, it may have been a little too easy and you may have tried to maximize every ounce of momentum the wind – sail positioning, pointing up or down. For the cruiser which I am, it was simply delightful!
Now going into Pirates Cove where we are staying for a couple of nights, maybe more.There is quite a trick to it. The trick is to read the articles that pertain to this marine park, look at one's charts and trust the depth gauge reading, (provided you know that it is calibrated), and using the tides to ones advantage is a bonus! Pat knew that it would be close and was he right. After lining up the big white arrow on the rock wall to the big white X on the tree, turning sharply to port and head in between a buoy and marker (and I don’t think that the margin is more than 25 feet) you head in s l o w l y. I was at the bow watching for any rocks or deadheads that could not be seen from the helm and all looked well. All of a sudden Pat exclaimed, “Oh! We’ve got .1 feet of clearance below our keel!” Thankfully, it got deeper, by a whole 4 feet.
We anchored for the first time on this boat. Yes, to the race crew, it is a heavy anchor and I thought we might have manually place it. The windlass was slipping as well as the rode insisted on snarling; even with having stretched the chain and rode out at home and untwisting down the sidewalk. Pat did a little research and discovered that the mystery tool that came with the boat was a wrench with many purposes, was made to adjust the clutch on the windlass. I can’t wait to try bringing up the anchor tomorrow or Wednesday when we leave Pirates Cove.
From the books we have to educate us about the different spots that cruisers enjoy visiting, Pirates Cove had several facts to observe; the ground is muddy and many have troubles with anchors not securing, and the skipper must pay attention to the entrance as not to get stuck on the shoals on either side of the narrow entrance. To Pat, the marina on the starboard side as you enter, is a surprise to him. Boy has time allowed things to change.
This was another of Pat’s family favorite places to stay, and I can see why. There were several boats when we arrived, but half of them left before sunset. The cove was serene and a slice of heaven on earth. We are positioned not far from the entrance and as the boat pivots on its anchor, there is an opening between the main island and an islet. This is where I sat in the cockpit last night after dinner and watched the sun go down. It wasn’t a dramatic sunset with vibrant shades of red and gold. Rather shades of blues to cream gave the sky elegance, the stillness of the cove was a symphony I could understand and appreciated. I am in no hurry to leave this sanctuary.
This morning after a leisurely cup of coffee while reading our books, Pat installed a handle to assist us in getting back into the boat after kayaking. When purchasing the boat we thought the stern of the C & C 115 was going to be easy to use for entering and exiting kayaks or the dingy; but not necessarily so. The transom juts out just enough as to keep the little boats away and the only thing for us to grab onto is the backstay. If ONLY we were a little longer in the waist, reaching for the back stanchions could offer us what we needed. Today after kayaking around the cove, poking in and out of the water’s edge, we used the handle quite successfully.
I shall close for today. I smell my cinnamon-sticky buns so that must mean that they are about ready to take out of the oven. We have been invited to dingy over to some neighbors, Jan & John, at 6 tonight for appetizers and cocktails. I will bring the remaining Greek Pizza I made for dinner last night and the buns will be a hostess gift for their breakfast tomorrow morning. If all continues so peacefully for the next six weeks, the time will definitely fly by.
June 22, 2008 Northbound to Telegraph Harbor
After a refreshing and rejuvenating sleep the start to week four is beginning with a cheerful start. I made Pat a frittata this morning with bacon as a side. This is a treat for Pat since he had always banned cooking bacon, unless cooked on the BBQ. The oven worked wonders on the bacon and no mess as a bonus! There is virtually no wind and we are motoring north through Trincomali Channel, west to Houstoun Passage, then north again through Stuart Channel with a pass through Telegraph Harbor so I could connect to the internet to download his messages and upload the blog. He did offer the option of residing here for a night; I showed no interest after two nights in Montague Harbor and the feeling of living on a freeway. There are many sailboats playing more with the current than wind. We thought about joining them, but we were still in our first hour “run the engine mode”. By the time the second hour began we were sailing too. From that point we put up the sails and had an easy but delightful sail up to Ruxton Passage. For the racers out there, it may have been a little too easy and you may have tried to maximize every ounce of momentum the wind – sail positioning, pointing up or down. For the cruiser which I am, it was simply delightful!
Now going into Pirates Cove where we are staying for a couple of nights, maybe more.There is quite a trick to it. The trick is to read the articles that pertain to this marine park, look at one's charts and trust the depth gauge reading, (provided you know that it is calibrated), and using the tides to ones advantage is a bonus! Pat knew that it would be close and was he right. After lining up the big white arrow on the rock wall to the big white X on the tree, turning sharply to port and head in between a buoy and marker (and I don’t think that the margin is more than 25 feet) you head in s l o w l y. I was at the bow watching for any rocks or deadheads that could not be seen from the helm and all looked well. All of a sudden Pat exclaimed, “Oh! We’ve got .1 feet of clearance below our keel!” Thankfully, it got deeper, by a whole 4 feet.
We anchored for the first time on this boat. Yes, to the race crew, it is a heavy anchor and I thought we might have manually place it. The windlass was slipping as well as the rode insisted on snarling; even with having stretched the chain and rode out at home and untwisting down the sidewalk. Pat did a little research and discovered that the mystery tool that came with the boat was a wrench with many purposes, was made to adjust the clutch on the windlass. I can’t wait to try bringing up the anchor tomorrow or Wednesday when we leave Pirates Cove.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Starting Week Four- Telegraph Harbor
June 21, 2008 – It has been three weeks . . .
And yes, I am feeling irritable; I would love to soak in my tub, with hot, bubbly water up to my neck, the window open to allow cool air, listening to the birds chatter as they go about their daily routines in the woods behind my yard, all the while allowing myself to drift off to a relaxed induced sleep. Honestly, that hardly occurs because I always have a list of things to do. It is just the thought of having the option that suits me today. Liberté is well equipped with the amenities of home, just smaller versions. It is the smaller that is frustrating me; making the bed after tearing it apart to get something stored below it. Open the refrigerator for Pat’s mocha, (now made preciously to 170°), is no simple 30 second feat. Rather, one must remember where you put things on what layer and then dig. There have been a couple of times that all my counter space was filled and food was still filling half the refrigerator! I really should not complain because this is not an icebox – half full with blocks of melting ice. Rather we have an efficient, quiet compressor that works wonderfully. The Pioneer Woman in me should be thrilled with all that I do have, I’m just tired today.
Tree lined hills, with one bare section of old solid and angular rock surround Montague Harbour on Galiano Island. It is wide and spacious AND filled half full with boats of every description. Even a renovated 5-car ferry that is now open as a bakery is anchored here. There are as many empty buoys as there are those occupied so I am grateful we are here now rather when it is maxed out. During the afternoon it was fairly quiet but as evening approached, the droning of motors on the skiffs came to life. It reminded me of the sounds of a beehive, as the drones flew in loaded with pollen to make the honey. Sometimes the sound progressed to the state of frenzy, as in a hive swarming! Between skiffs and boats a couple of sea planes landed and then shortly after, took off. How they avoided contact with anything is amazing! In a couple publications we have, the Hummingbird Pub is mentioned. They have a bus that commutes boaters and campers from the park to their establishment. The last run is 11 PM. I bet they had a big crowd because the harbor was filled with ‘relaxed’ customers shortly after 11. They zipped around without the help of the moonlight. I believe they talked and laughed their way through the maze of anchored and moored boats. Life this morning started later than usual.
We arrived here yesterday mid morning without having the sails up. (There was one small window of time when the winds were just over 6 knots, but the tide was running 2 knots against us.) Pat’s ability to discern one pass over another, the names of islands all come from his past experience to this area gives him confidence to steer our course. His working ability to read the charts amazes me also as he transfer info to the Raymarine GPS and sets a course for the boat to track to. I am directionally challenged on the road, by sea- as I told Pat yesterday, I would not even think of taking over. I need Maggie , after I punch in an address, to tell me where to go. Watching for logs, reading the depth gauge – no sweat and standing watch to a ‘tracked’ route works for me. I guess I had better take good care of Pat so he gets me home safely!
Galiano Island has lots of spacious and manicured campsites. Boy has camping changed since my childhood and young adulthood. As an adult it was backpacking and camping at a county fishing camp, Pillar Point to be exact. The beach is beautiful and a wonderful place for the girls to roam, explore and play. The campsite up on the hill was either dusty or muddy. One mother once commented that bringing our young families there was “babysitting under hardship conditions”. That pretty well summed it up! But I have digressed from the present. Here, today families have the option of using wooden platforms in some areas to place one’s tent. I remember blowing up that single mattress and if the air held all night, more than likely one rolled off several times. Today there are full-sized - solid and flat air mattresses. Many families were taking use of these amenities. Several moms were sitting and reading, within a short distance from their young children playing; discovering wonders of the shoreline beaches. Campfires mesmerized many occupants as they sat quietly talking to one another. Pat has many good memories of bringing his children here when they were young. They explored the many easy hiking trails, splashed around the lagoon when the tide went out or maybe they would bring out their fishing poles and catch the evening dinner. The dock has been filled with lots of young boys, their fishing poles and all their fishing tackle from sunup to sundown. Kayaks of every style are skimming the harbor; their occupants young to middle age. The older cruisers seem to depend on their motorized skiffs. Pat & I are content with the rowing of the minto thus far. It is easy for me, I just sit at the bow and watch him row!
I should go back to Sidney. The town motto regarding their residents; “A town for newly weds or nearly dead”! We both agree that never have we seen so many motorized scooters/wheelchairs in one place. The owners zipped around with no hesitation or reserve. Their flags were to let the rest of the pedestrians know they were coming – and watch out! The town is really set up for tourists and wealthy retired couples, with deep pockets: high end dress shops, home interior and gift shops and lots of new & used bookstores! I do believe that Marcee, Jesse, Pat & I supported one or all! Our arms all grew an extra inch as we carried them around. Pat bought me several to read related to the region: A Curve in Time, Following the Curve in Time, Mac and the Princess and Desolation Sound, the History. He told me that it is my homeschooling material and it should be read before we got to these destinations! I began to read the Curve of Time last evening, and had a little trepidation while the author was describing the narrow entrance to Princess Louisa Inlet. I tried to use reason that she was a single mother with five children and she managed it. Pat is my captain and he has made this passage several times – but then he was with a crew of experienced men. Try as I might I am working not to allow myself to be troubled until the moment to follow directions is in the present.
One of the chores Pat needed to complete before many more miles were traveled was to place a new cover over the mast head light. I was the chosen one to go up the mast and do this. I sat down inside the boson’s chair; Pat secured a halyard to the rings with several wraps of masking tape. Having gone up once before on my birthday a month before I was somewhat prepared, but not necessarily comfortable with the task ahead. I must admit it went easier this time going up, because I kept myself pushed away from the mast, rather than just going straight up – crammed to the mast. My bare feet worked like tentacles, my bottom was puckered so tight in the chair, if by chance I would be flipped upside down, I don’t think I could have fallen out! My hands kept a good grip to any and all lines available. The mast head light is only half way up the 62 foot, but to let go of the lines and use both hands had me less than amicable to Pat’s advice. The dang light cover would not go in and set itself on the multiple attempts I made. I had placed silicone was around the perimeter and was doing the best I could to keep it off my fingers and mast. I wanted down yet one of my character defects, tenacity, paid off and the cover went into the socket, and felt very secure. It was about this time that the wind was picking up and it was time for Pat to let me down slowly – after he documented with a photo that I did go up and complete the task.
On Thursdays, 5-9 PM, Sidney has five blocks on Beacon, their main street, fenced off for an Open Air Market. There were nearly an equal amount of shoppers as merchants. Large flats of red, ripe strawberries, long ribs of rhubarb, hot dogs, face-painting, fresh baked bread, small new potatoes, hand-made items of a wide assortment: knitted toys to beautiful wooden objects and everything else in between. A few times Mother Nature tried as she could, but never succeeded, to wring out a few drops of rain. We had had a late lunch at a Pub near the marina so the choice of eating our way through was not conceivable. A good cup of coffee was just right and allowed us to sit, listen to a lively musician who enjoyed performing, across from us and people watch. We wrapped up the evening with a stop at a 50’s styled ice cream parlor and enjoyed a sundae. The night before we had a good dinner at one of three Greek restaurants we found on Beacon Street.
Writing has somehow helped my irritability dissolve. We are now going to paddle around the harbor one more time – maybe go around that other corner to see the view from the water, up close, rather from the shore’s trail up above.
And yes, I am feeling irritable; I would love to soak in my tub, with hot, bubbly water up to my neck, the window open to allow cool air, listening to the birds chatter as they go about their daily routines in the woods behind my yard, all the while allowing myself to drift off to a relaxed induced sleep. Honestly, that hardly occurs because I always have a list of things to do. It is just the thought of having the option that suits me today. Liberté is well equipped with the amenities of home, just smaller versions. It is the smaller that is frustrating me; making the bed after tearing it apart to get something stored below it. Open the refrigerator for Pat’s mocha, (now made preciously to 170°), is no simple 30 second feat. Rather, one must remember where you put things on what layer and then dig. There have been a couple of times that all my counter space was filled and food was still filling half the refrigerator! I really should not complain because this is not an icebox – half full with blocks of melting ice. Rather we have an efficient, quiet compressor that works wonderfully. The Pioneer Woman in me should be thrilled with all that I do have, I’m just tired today.
Tree lined hills, with one bare section of old solid and angular rock surround Montague Harbour on Galiano Island. It is wide and spacious AND filled half full with boats of every description. Even a renovated 5-car ferry that is now open as a bakery is anchored here. There are as many empty buoys as there are those occupied so I am grateful we are here now rather when it is maxed out. During the afternoon it was fairly quiet but as evening approached, the droning of motors on the skiffs came to life. It reminded me of the sounds of a beehive, as the drones flew in loaded with pollen to make the honey. Sometimes the sound progressed to the state of frenzy, as in a hive swarming! Between skiffs and boats a couple of sea planes landed and then shortly after, took off. How they avoided contact with anything is amazing! In a couple publications we have, the Hummingbird Pub is mentioned. They have a bus that commutes boaters and campers from the park to their establishment. The last run is 11 PM. I bet they had a big crowd because the harbor was filled with ‘relaxed’ customers shortly after 11. They zipped around without the help of the moonlight. I believe they talked and laughed their way through the maze of anchored and moored boats. Life this morning started later than usual.
We arrived here yesterday mid morning without having the sails up. (There was one small window of time when the winds were just over 6 knots, but the tide was running 2 knots against us.) Pat’s ability to discern one pass over another, the names of islands all come from his past experience to this area gives him confidence to steer our course. His working ability to read the charts amazes me also as he transfer info to the Raymarine GPS and sets a course for the boat to track to. I am directionally challenged on the road, by sea- as I told Pat yesterday, I would not even think of taking over. I need Maggie , after I punch in an address, to tell me where to go. Watching for logs, reading the depth gauge – no sweat and standing watch to a ‘tracked’ route works for me. I guess I had better take good care of Pat so he gets me home safely!
Galiano Island has lots of spacious and manicured campsites. Boy has camping changed since my childhood and young adulthood. As an adult it was backpacking and camping at a county fishing camp, Pillar Point to be exact. The beach is beautiful and a wonderful place for the girls to roam, explore and play. The campsite up on the hill was either dusty or muddy. One mother once commented that bringing our young families there was “babysitting under hardship conditions”. That pretty well summed it up! But I have digressed from the present. Here, today families have the option of using wooden platforms in some areas to place one’s tent. I remember blowing up that single mattress and if the air held all night, more than likely one rolled off several times. Today there are full-sized - solid and flat air mattresses. Many families were taking use of these amenities. Several moms were sitting and reading, within a short distance from their young children playing; discovering wonders of the shoreline beaches. Campfires mesmerized many occupants as they sat quietly talking to one another. Pat has many good memories of bringing his children here when they were young. They explored the many easy hiking trails, splashed around the lagoon when the tide went out or maybe they would bring out their fishing poles and catch the evening dinner. The dock has been filled with lots of young boys, their fishing poles and all their fishing tackle from sunup to sundown. Kayaks of every style are skimming the harbor; their occupants young to middle age. The older cruisers seem to depend on their motorized skiffs. Pat & I are content with the rowing of the minto thus far. It is easy for me, I just sit at the bow and watch him row!
I should go back to Sidney. The town motto regarding their residents; “A town for newly weds or nearly dead”! We both agree that never have we seen so many motorized scooters/wheelchairs in one place. The owners zipped around with no hesitation or reserve. Their flags were to let the rest of the pedestrians know they were coming – and watch out! The town is really set up for tourists and wealthy retired couples, with deep pockets: high end dress shops, home interior and gift shops and lots of new & used bookstores! I do believe that Marcee, Jesse, Pat & I supported one or all! Our arms all grew an extra inch as we carried them around. Pat bought me several to read related to the region: A Curve in Time, Following the Curve in Time, Mac and the Princess and Desolation Sound, the History. He told me that it is my homeschooling material and it should be read before we got to these destinations! I began to read the Curve of Time last evening, and had a little trepidation while the author was describing the narrow entrance to Princess Louisa Inlet. I tried to use reason that she was a single mother with five children and she managed it. Pat is my captain and he has made this passage several times – but then he was with a crew of experienced men. Try as I might I am working not to allow myself to be troubled until the moment to follow directions is in the present.
One of the chores Pat needed to complete before many more miles were traveled was to place a new cover over the mast head light. I was the chosen one to go up the mast and do this. I sat down inside the boson’s chair; Pat secured a halyard to the rings with several wraps of masking tape. Having gone up once before on my birthday a month before I was somewhat prepared, but not necessarily comfortable with the task ahead. I must admit it went easier this time going up, because I kept myself pushed away from the mast, rather than just going straight up – crammed to the mast. My bare feet worked like tentacles, my bottom was puckered so tight in the chair, if by chance I would be flipped upside down, I don’t think I could have fallen out! My hands kept a good grip to any and all lines available. The mast head light is only half way up the 62 foot, but to let go of the lines and use both hands had me less than amicable to Pat’s advice. The dang light cover would not go in and set itself on the multiple attempts I made. I had placed silicone was around the perimeter and was doing the best I could to keep it off my fingers and mast. I wanted down yet one of my character defects, tenacity, paid off and the cover went into the socket, and felt very secure. It was about this time that the wind was picking up and it was time for Pat to let me down slowly – after he documented with a photo that I did go up and complete the task.
On Thursdays, 5-9 PM, Sidney has five blocks on Beacon, their main street, fenced off for an Open Air Market. There were nearly an equal amount of shoppers as merchants. Large flats of red, ripe strawberries, long ribs of rhubarb, hot dogs, face-painting, fresh baked bread, small new potatoes, hand-made items of a wide assortment: knitted toys to beautiful wooden objects and everything else in between. A few times Mother Nature tried as she could, but never succeeded, to wring out a few drops of rain. We had had a late lunch at a Pub near the marina so the choice of eating our way through was not conceivable. A good cup of coffee was just right and allowed us to sit, listen to a lively musician who enjoyed performing, across from us and people watch. We wrapped up the evening with a stop at a 50’s styled ice cream parlor and enjoyed a sundae. The night before we had a good dinner at one of three Greek restaurants we found on Beacon Street.
Writing has somehow helped my irritability dissolve. We are now going to paddle around the harbor one more time – maybe go around that other corner to see the view from the water, up close, rather from the shore’s trail up above.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
June 18, 2008 – A good day to catch up
Awakening to the silence of no wind, a patch of blue sky out our large hatch window and feeling refreshed my mind started racing to our TO-DO list for the day. We are now within Canada’s boundaries and according to immigration, here for 42 days, three of which will be here in Sidney. Late this afternoon my eldest daughter Marcee and her husband Jesse will be visiting us. They will be staying at a B & B a couple blocks away. Until then, chores . . .
Monday morning we had returned to Reid Harbor after a delightful weekend visit with my daughter Sunny. Pat made this choice in order that our passage across Haro Strait would be quite short. It was no more than an hour and half. And it was not a smooth voyage; wind – gusts well over 22 mph, current that went every which way, sometimes pushing us along and other times doing the exact opposite. This gave me an opportunity to see what required attention as to securing in a better fashion for future bouncy rides. I’m happy to report that the only cupboard that was shifting more than I cared for was the one holding the dishes. I figured out that from now on, the cloth napkins will work well as a buffer- rather than fill with more dishes! I imagine the racing crew would approve this decision.
We know that school is now out for many children: there are more boats on the waterways and many of them were filled with young children. There was a smaller sailboat approaching the entrance to Reid Harbor as we did. The captain and three small children, guessing that there ages ranged from 6-10 years. They were adorned with bright yellow lifejackets and the excitement in their young voices indicated this place held fond memories for them. We had tied up to a buoy before they did, allowing me the freedom to observe. All three children had placed themselves up at the bow, one with the boat pole while the others used their eyes to instruct the eldest, a girl, appropriately reach out and snag the buoy. I was intrigued; I’ve been feeling pretty smug that I’ve caught that little ring every time – but once – on the first attempt. No, they did not make it as Grandpa approached the buoy from the port side. The buoy worked its way over to the starboard and was working its way back towards mid-ship. Extra arms were waving with fingers extending like Seeing Eye dogs to offer help to the one capturing the ring. By this time Grandpa had made his way up and calmly, took the boat hook and snagged the ring. While he worked on securing the boat for the night’s moorage, the children’s’ voices softly filled the harbor. All our stops thus far have been the quiet of adults, but this sound truly was missing.
Within a short time, all four and their dog were sitting within the inflatable lifeboat, motoring about to access opportunities for future adventures. Directly behind us was a floating moorage dock. The children beckoned their Grandpa to ‘go over there’ so he did. They jumped right out exploring every inch, stretching their legs while their imaginations stretched as well. It wasn’t more than an hour later that they had left the buoy and tied up to the dock. It was a good as reading a book, watching those young children. Before dinner they would climb into an inflatable canoe and paddle over to a rock wall that came down to the water’s edge. The older two would climb out of the boat and squat inside a small cave, looking out. One could almost hear their imaginations as if they were Tom Sawyer or Huck Finn! Hours flew by as they went back and forth to their dock and the caves, sometimes bringing their younger brother. By the time dinner came around, they dropped down into the cabin and we never saw them again. I imagine that they went to sleep fast that night and when we left at seven the next morning were still sleeping soundly. What a great opportunity for these children – doing what all children should; playing outdoors and stretching their bodies as well as their imaginations with discovering. It must have been good for Grandpa too as he kept vigilant on the dock as they paddled about.
I am going to step back in time of Father’s Day weekend. We were guests of Sunny and Justin up in Bellingham. They were perfect hosts seeing to our every need; which wasn’t too much for we are on vacation. My one request was for Sunny to find me a hair stylist that could work me in while we were on solid ground. She did just that and I’m happy to say that the longer hair is gone! It had not taken long for a couple “bad hair” days to bug me. I’ll take my chances that I can find someone to shape it up during the journey or I’ll do it myself. Justin barbequed a sockeye salmon for dinner that was delicious as well as an art piece to look at. Their new home that Justin designed and researched for most everything within is right on the beach of Lummi Bay. Watching the sunset as we completed the evening with good conversations was perfect in every sense. Saturday was a lazy day of exploring the beach in front of their home. When the tide goes out, it leaves an expansive area to explore. Before we went out, tidal pools were filled with flocks of great blue herons, patiently looking for their meal. I don’t believe I have ever seen so many at any one time as were taking their position this day. A couple of eagles soared overhead. It was a showcase of nature at one of her finer moments. The rest of the day was spent stretched out on the deck soaking up sunshine, champagne and friendship. In the evening we had a decadent dinner at the Steak House inside the casino. Justin and Sunny prepared a wonderful Father’s Day breakfast for Pat and I before taking us back to our boat.
Monday morning we got up early to leave the marina before the tide went out too far. (Liberte’s seven foot keel and the minus tide predicate departures and arrivals.) Our passage across Rosario Strait was great. After running the engine to bring the charge back up on the batteries we rolled out the jib to add more oomph as we were going against the tide. The winds were flookie. The main sail and jib went up and down, in and out a couple times before the wind was strong and consistent. Boy did we have a great sail – even against the tide we were driving forward at 6.2 knots or more. Our auto pilot tracked so well that our course was perfect and Pat sat forward using the protection of the dodger from the cold bite of the wind. Can life get any better? Well we could ask for warmer temperatures. Nevertheless, the trip to Reid Harbor was invigorating and fun. Pat is thrilled that the boat is running so well – all systems are working compatibly.
Jumping to Tuesday; we left Reid Harbor by eight AM so that our entry into Canadian waters might take less time; beat others to it. Upon securing Liberte’, it was blowing over 20 mph, which made docking a challenge, we walked up to town to catch a bus. (The young man on the dock was great help and we did it on the first attempt. Actually, a second attempt would not/could not work! ) Pat took me to the Butchart Gardens; my first walk through, believe it or not! We had a magnificent time and yes I took lots of photos of the gardens and individual flowers. Weeds were virtually non-existent thus my instinct of allowing my fingers pull a few did not get itchy. Evening was very low-keyed as the wind howled throughout the marina. Today it is much calmer. And, that brings us to the beginning – doing our chores, but not after a good cup of coffee, a good hot shower and breakfast!
Monday morning we had returned to Reid Harbor after a delightful weekend visit with my daughter Sunny. Pat made this choice in order that our passage across Haro Strait would be quite short. It was no more than an hour and half. And it was not a smooth voyage; wind – gusts well over 22 mph, current that went every which way, sometimes pushing us along and other times doing the exact opposite. This gave me an opportunity to see what required attention as to securing in a better fashion for future bouncy rides. I’m happy to report that the only cupboard that was shifting more than I cared for was the one holding the dishes. I figured out that from now on, the cloth napkins will work well as a buffer- rather than fill with more dishes! I imagine the racing crew would approve this decision.
We know that school is now out for many children: there are more boats on the waterways and many of them were filled with young children. There was a smaller sailboat approaching the entrance to Reid Harbor as we did. The captain and three small children, guessing that there ages ranged from 6-10 years. They were adorned with bright yellow lifejackets and the excitement in their young voices indicated this place held fond memories for them. We had tied up to a buoy before they did, allowing me the freedom to observe. All three children had placed themselves up at the bow, one with the boat pole while the others used their eyes to instruct the eldest, a girl, appropriately reach out and snag the buoy. I was intrigued; I’ve been feeling pretty smug that I’ve caught that little ring every time – but once – on the first attempt. No, they did not make it as Grandpa approached the buoy from the port side. The buoy worked its way over to the starboard and was working its way back towards mid-ship. Extra arms were waving with fingers extending like Seeing Eye dogs to offer help to the one capturing the ring. By this time Grandpa had made his way up and calmly, took the boat hook and snagged the ring. While he worked on securing the boat for the night’s moorage, the children’s’ voices softly filled the harbor. All our stops thus far have been the quiet of adults, but this sound truly was missing.
Within a short time, all four and their dog were sitting within the inflatable lifeboat, motoring about to access opportunities for future adventures. Directly behind us was a floating moorage dock. The children beckoned their Grandpa to ‘go over there’ so he did. They jumped right out exploring every inch, stretching their legs while their imaginations stretched as well. It wasn’t more than an hour later that they had left the buoy and tied up to the dock. It was a good as reading a book, watching those young children. Before dinner they would climb into an inflatable canoe and paddle over to a rock wall that came down to the water’s edge. The older two would climb out of the boat and squat inside a small cave, looking out. One could almost hear their imaginations as if they were Tom Sawyer or Huck Finn! Hours flew by as they went back and forth to their dock and the caves, sometimes bringing their younger brother. By the time dinner came around, they dropped down into the cabin and we never saw them again. I imagine that they went to sleep fast that night and when we left at seven the next morning were still sleeping soundly. What a great opportunity for these children – doing what all children should; playing outdoors and stretching their bodies as well as their imaginations with discovering. It must have been good for Grandpa too as he kept vigilant on the dock as they paddled about.
I am going to step back in time of Father’s Day weekend. We were guests of Sunny and Justin up in Bellingham. They were perfect hosts seeing to our every need; which wasn’t too much for we are on vacation. My one request was for Sunny to find me a hair stylist that could work me in while we were on solid ground. She did just that and I’m happy to say that the longer hair is gone! It had not taken long for a couple “bad hair” days to bug me. I’ll take my chances that I can find someone to shape it up during the journey or I’ll do it myself. Justin barbequed a sockeye salmon for dinner that was delicious as well as an art piece to look at. Their new home that Justin designed and researched for most everything within is right on the beach of Lummi Bay. Watching the sunset as we completed the evening with good conversations was perfect in every sense. Saturday was a lazy day of exploring the beach in front of their home. When the tide goes out, it leaves an expansive area to explore. Before we went out, tidal pools were filled with flocks of great blue herons, patiently looking for their meal. I don’t believe I have ever seen so many at any one time as were taking their position this day. A couple of eagles soared overhead. It was a showcase of nature at one of her finer moments. The rest of the day was spent stretched out on the deck soaking up sunshine, champagne and friendship. In the evening we had a decadent dinner at the Steak House inside the casino. Justin and Sunny prepared a wonderful Father’s Day breakfast for Pat and I before taking us back to our boat.
Monday morning we got up early to leave the marina before the tide went out too far. (Liberte’s seven foot keel and the minus tide predicate departures and arrivals.) Our passage across Rosario Strait was great. After running the engine to bring the charge back up on the batteries we rolled out the jib to add more oomph as we were going against the tide. The winds were flookie. The main sail and jib went up and down, in and out a couple times before the wind was strong and consistent. Boy did we have a great sail – even against the tide we were driving forward at 6.2 knots or more. Our auto pilot tracked so well that our course was perfect and Pat sat forward using the protection of the dodger from the cold bite of the wind. Can life get any better? Well we could ask for warmer temperatures. Nevertheless, the trip to Reid Harbor was invigorating and fun. Pat is thrilled that the boat is running so well – all systems are working compatibly.
Jumping to Tuesday; we left Reid Harbor by eight AM so that our entry into Canadian waters might take less time; beat others to it. Upon securing Liberte’, it was blowing over 20 mph, which made docking a challenge, we walked up to town to catch a bus. (The young man on the dock was great help and we did it on the first attempt. Actually, a second attempt would not/could not work! ) Pat took me to the Butchart Gardens; my first walk through, believe it or not! We had a magnificent time and yes I took lots of photos of the gardens and individual flowers. Weeds were virtually non-existent thus my instinct of allowing my fingers pull a few did not get itchy. Evening was very low-keyed as the wind howled throughout the marina. Today it is much calmer. And, that brings us to the beginning – doing our chores, but not after a good cup of coffee, a good hot shower and breakfast!
Saturday, June 14, 2008
June 12, 2008 – Living aboard a sailboat
Today was another lazy start to our day. The reason for this was that we had another windstorm. The wind came in from the East, the barometer had shown no indication of a change, and in fact it was showing an improvement with the weather. The halyards snapped against the mast in an irregular rhythm , the shrouds made of wire sent out a high pitched hum – thankfully not constant, and the bobbing of the boat in inconsistent waves; all were sounds and motions unfamiliar to me, especially when it is dark-thirty. Tried as I did, sleep would not come to me. When the minto did crash against the stern, Pat awakened quickly and jumped out to see how to remedy the chaos. Pat kept busy figuring out what was the best configuration to keep the minto from crashing up against our stern. (In light air, keeping her snug against the special fender worked well. With the gusts last night the wind was swirling around and releasing the tension on the painter was the solution.), we both decided sleep was not going to occur for awhile. We grabbed our books, had a cup of cocoa or coffee and enjoyed the heat of our diesel heater. Around 3 AM the wind subsided substantially, that we returned to bed and got some sleep. The way the wind has picked up this afternoon, my hunch is that we may be in for more of the same tonight. The twirling around the buoy as the wind shifts and surges has begun once more.
Today’s walk about the island took us to Shallow Bay, and several other smaller coves. There have been more boats moored on this island, but most of their owners have kept close to their boats. I am enjoying the rites of spring on each of the islands. Sucia seems to have a more diversity of flora and fauna than I have noticed on Orcas and Jones Islands. Hummingbirds were actively moving about from blossom to blossom of what resembles the lipstick plant. The hum of bees was as prevalent as the perfume of wild roses – thickets of them everywhere. The smell of blackberries was so strong at times, my mouth watered and I could almost taste them. Signs of wind damage have also been more evident on this island than the other two. Large fir trees have recently been sawn, to clear the trail, and at the trailhead by the beach, a couple of fallen alders were in full dress; their leaves have not had time to shrivel or fade. An eagle was confident that we were not going to bother him, so he sat stoically in a snag along the path of Shallow Bay. Yes, I got photos, but as usual, the camera lens is never big enough to fill the screen with just eagle.
Housekeeping is easy on Liberte’. I simply pick up the scatter rugs; shake them out at the stern. While they get a little air, a little broom catches the big crumbs and a damp rag picks up what little else remains and that is it! The galley was my concern, but we are getting along quite well. If I were cooking for larger quantities and more often every day, perhaps the digging for a particular item in the refrigerator might drive me nuts. Keeping similar items in individual containers has made this easier to locate ingredients for a meal. Having a freezer, no matter how small has been a real bonus also. The secret has been to remember that I have one and remove meat from it in the morning for dinner.
June 11, 2008
Fossil Bay, Sucia Island.We are starting the day slowly while listening to the news on the radio, enjoying a good cup of coffee, breakfast prepared by the Captain and discussing the business of the day; taking a long walk or kayaking. Reading from our wide array of books has been a big part of every day. Pat has a stack to swap next time we land at a marina with a Laundromat with well used books. It would be interesting to know who had read the books; their stories of adventures that may have taken – no better teacher than those who have made passages to places one may be considering.
The weather improved yesterday during the two hour passage to Sucia. Last night there was a storm that passed by. Moored deep within Reid Harbor, we hardly noticed it. Very few cruisers-power or sail- passed us heading either north or south. This made it easy for my imagination to see the region as early explorers or the first people. The clouds were low, meeting the islands’ treetops. Every island has a stand of evergreens, varied only in density due to the island’s size. Each stand showed the direction of prevailing wind. This might have helped me navigate, a directionally challenged woman on land. Just imagine what it is like for me on water! I do appreciate the use of a compass and Pat’s navigation equipment Liberte’ is equipped with, yet to look out and indentify islands and know where to set a track for our Raymarine navigation system as Pat is able to do, is mysterious. I realize that he has been doing this for over 30 years so it is like me visiting my backyard. Repeated sails to this region will be my best teacher. In the meantime, I trust him totally!
Yesterday we took a short hike over to Fox Cove and a short hike up to the top of hill above it. A gaggle of geese were the only occupants of the cove and one Great Blue Heron, stalking the water’s edge for dinner. All the coves and bays in this part of the island are mirror calm today. This is quite the opposite of yesterday’s weather. We are sharing Fossil Bay with four other boats – children are no where to be seen or heard, so it is as if we were alone.
June 9, 2008
Stuart Island, weather reports prediction: wet with talk of strong winds later today and evening. We are sitting within our cabin on Liberte’; the heater is efficiently pumping out heat, Pat is enjoying his daily mocha and I’m having an Americano and a classical melody is playing softly on the radio. It is hard to believe that we are on a boat and not in our home. OK, the engine is on in order to keep a full charge on the batteries. Running the engine an hour provides a tank full of hot water and makes available the many accessories to keep us content. It promises to be a long day inside due to the rainstorm outdoors. We are grateful Mother Nature constrained herself until we stepped onboard after a three and half hour walk around the island. Boy did she let go once we were safe!
Our walk included the one room schoolhouse, which is closed this year due to no students on the island. Turn Point Lighthouse, with an expansive view that takes in the straits and Canada on the horizon; a couple of double kayakers were venturing out searching for pods of Orca that are reported to be in the region. We did see fins of what presumably were Dahl porpoises. I enjoy kayaking, but to do as they, out with large rollers from passing freighters in large open expanses of water is out of my comfort zone. Perhaps one day I’ll be there. Until then, I will enjoy the view from the cliff above. We stopped by the small island cemetery. From a distance the color of fresh flowers gave the impression that on Memorial Day the islanders had come to pay respects. No, they were silk flowers; perhaps new this year after the storms of winter, for they were not ragged or the colors dulled by the seasons. This cemetery is home to only a couple handful of people ranging from; local – colorful Littlewolf, a Civil War hero, a three year old boy who died from blood poisoning due to a rusty buckle on his overalls, and a more recent burial of someone who simply loved the island and requested this her final resting spot. On the way back, we took a walk down a noted dead end. Besides being drawn to the idealistic setting, we believed that there was a post office we could use. The post office, a small brown building was vacant; tall grasses surrounded the building showed no indication of being passed on in a long time. The idealist segment of this road less traveled was the fairly expansive farm on our right. Perhaps 20 acres on a corner lot; open fields, with the road along two sides and woods inland. The barn, painted with a fresh coat of red was positioned close to the road, while the yellow and brown residence was set back into the woods and rocky hillside. The house windows faced out to the entrance of Prevost Bay. Not only did they have what would be a wonderful working farm, their beach must have been the length of a football field. A gazebo that looked like a new building must be a wonderful protection for wet summer days that are warm enough to enjoy a meal outdoors. If I could conjure up an ideal setting to raise a family or retire to, this would be it. Geese were lying in the field while the cattle grazed lazily. I would add a few chickens to provide me fresh eggs. There were horses, but those could be given to someone who enjoyed them more than me.
We did stop at the one-room schoolhouse, wandered through the library and bought some postcards. The Islanders use this money to buy more books for the children. Outside of the school yard is a treasure chest that a local family has built and filled with an assortment of things to sell to visitors; t-shirts, hats, and note cards with original artwork. You take what you like and they request that you simply send a check to them with money for your purchase. They supply a self-addressed envelope for this purpose. It must be working for them, for they have been doing business for a long time.
I’m now going to turn my efforts to the galley and make a loaf of cinnamon, apple bread. It will treat for me to make with our easy bake oven and our little red boat will definitely smell like home! Looking out of the companionway, I am so glad that I found time to make the boom-tent before leaving. It is working quite well, expanding protection beyond the dodger. Life is good as is our adventure thus far.
Today was another lazy start to our day. The reason for this was that we had another windstorm. The wind came in from the East, the barometer had shown no indication of a change, and in fact it was showing an improvement with the weather. The halyards snapped against the mast in an irregular rhythm , the shrouds made of wire sent out a high pitched hum – thankfully not constant, and the bobbing of the boat in inconsistent waves; all were sounds and motions unfamiliar to me, especially when it is dark-thirty. Tried as I did, sleep would not come to me. When the minto did crash against the stern, Pat awakened quickly and jumped out to see how to remedy the chaos. Pat kept busy figuring out what was the best configuration to keep the minto from crashing up against our stern. (In light air, keeping her snug against the special fender worked well. With the gusts last night the wind was swirling around and releasing the tension on the painter was the solution.), we both decided sleep was not going to occur for awhile. We grabbed our books, had a cup of cocoa or coffee and enjoyed the heat of our diesel heater. Around 3 AM the wind subsided substantially, that we returned to bed and got some sleep. The way the wind has picked up this afternoon, my hunch is that we may be in for more of the same tonight. The twirling around the buoy as the wind shifts and surges has begun once more.
Today’s walk about the island took us to Shallow Bay, and several other smaller coves. There have been more boats moored on this island, but most of their owners have kept close to their boats. I am enjoying the rites of spring on each of the islands. Sucia seems to have a more diversity of flora and fauna than I have noticed on Orcas and Jones Islands. Hummingbirds were actively moving about from blossom to blossom of what resembles the lipstick plant. The hum of bees was as prevalent as the perfume of wild roses – thickets of them everywhere. The smell of blackberries was so strong at times, my mouth watered and I could almost taste them. Signs of wind damage have also been more evident on this island than the other two. Large fir trees have recently been sawn, to clear the trail, and at the trailhead by the beach, a couple of fallen alders were in full dress; their leaves have not had time to shrivel or fade. An eagle was confident that we were not going to bother him, so he sat stoically in a snag along the path of Shallow Bay. Yes, I got photos, but as usual, the camera lens is never big enough to fill the screen with just eagle.
Housekeeping is easy on Liberte’. I simply pick up the scatter rugs; shake them out at the stern. While they get a little air, a little broom catches the big crumbs and a damp rag picks up what little else remains and that is it! The galley was my concern, but we are getting along quite well. If I were cooking for larger quantities and more often every day, perhaps the digging for a particular item in the refrigerator might drive me nuts. Keeping similar items in individual containers has made this easier to locate ingredients for a meal. Having a freezer, no matter how small has been a real bonus also. The secret has been to remember that I have one and remove meat from it in the morning for dinner.
June 11, 2008
Fossil Bay, Sucia Island.We are starting the day slowly while listening to the news on the radio, enjoying a good cup of coffee, breakfast prepared by the Captain and discussing the business of the day; taking a long walk or kayaking. Reading from our wide array of books has been a big part of every day. Pat has a stack to swap next time we land at a marina with a Laundromat with well used books. It would be interesting to know who had read the books; their stories of adventures that may have taken – no better teacher than those who have made passages to places one may be considering.
The weather improved yesterday during the two hour passage to Sucia. Last night there was a storm that passed by. Moored deep within Reid Harbor, we hardly noticed it. Very few cruisers-power or sail- passed us heading either north or south. This made it easy for my imagination to see the region as early explorers or the first people. The clouds were low, meeting the islands’ treetops. Every island has a stand of evergreens, varied only in density due to the island’s size. Each stand showed the direction of prevailing wind. This might have helped me navigate, a directionally challenged woman on land. Just imagine what it is like for me on water! I do appreciate the use of a compass and Pat’s navigation equipment Liberte’ is equipped with, yet to look out and indentify islands and know where to set a track for our Raymarine navigation system as Pat is able to do, is mysterious. I realize that he has been doing this for over 30 years so it is like me visiting my backyard. Repeated sails to this region will be my best teacher. In the meantime, I trust him totally!
Yesterday we took a short hike over to Fox Cove and a short hike up to the top of hill above it. A gaggle of geese were the only occupants of the cove and one Great Blue Heron, stalking the water’s edge for dinner. All the coves and bays in this part of the island are mirror calm today. This is quite the opposite of yesterday’s weather. We are sharing Fossil Bay with four other boats – children are no where to be seen or heard, so it is as if we were alone.
June 9, 2008
Stuart Island, weather reports prediction: wet with talk of strong winds later today and evening. We are sitting within our cabin on Liberte’; the heater is efficiently pumping out heat, Pat is enjoying his daily mocha and I’m having an Americano and a classical melody is playing softly on the radio. It is hard to believe that we are on a boat and not in our home. OK, the engine is on in order to keep a full charge on the batteries. Running the engine an hour provides a tank full of hot water and makes available the many accessories to keep us content. It promises to be a long day inside due to the rainstorm outdoors. We are grateful Mother Nature constrained herself until we stepped onboard after a three and half hour walk around the island. Boy did she let go once we were safe!
Our walk included the one room schoolhouse, which is closed this year due to no students on the island. Turn Point Lighthouse, with an expansive view that takes in the straits and Canada on the horizon; a couple of double kayakers were venturing out searching for pods of Orca that are reported to be in the region. We did see fins of what presumably were Dahl porpoises. I enjoy kayaking, but to do as they, out with large rollers from passing freighters in large open expanses of water is out of my comfort zone. Perhaps one day I’ll be there. Until then, I will enjoy the view from the cliff above. We stopped by the small island cemetery. From a distance the color of fresh flowers gave the impression that on Memorial Day the islanders had come to pay respects. No, they were silk flowers; perhaps new this year after the storms of winter, for they were not ragged or the colors dulled by the seasons. This cemetery is home to only a couple handful of people ranging from; local – colorful Littlewolf, a Civil War hero, a three year old boy who died from blood poisoning due to a rusty buckle on his overalls, and a more recent burial of someone who simply loved the island and requested this her final resting spot. On the way back, we took a walk down a noted dead end. Besides being drawn to the idealistic setting, we believed that there was a post office we could use. The post office, a small brown building was vacant; tall grasses surrounded the building showed no indication of being passed on in a long time. The idealist segment of this road less traveled was the fairly expansive farm on our right. Perhaps 20 acres on a corner lot; open fields, with the road along two sides and woods inland. The barn, painted with a fresh coat of red was positioned close to the road, while the yellow and brown residence was set back into the woods and rocky hillside. The house windows faced out to the entrance of Prevost Bay. Not only did they have what would be a wonderful working farm, their beach must have been the length of a football field. A gazebo that looked like a new building must be a wonderful protection for wet summer days that are warm enough to enjoy a meal outdoors. If I could conjure up an ideal setting to raise a family or retire to, this would be it. Geese were lying in the field while the cattle grazed lazily. I would add a few chickens to provide me fresh eggs. There were horses, but those could be given to someone who enjoyed them more than me.
We did stop at the one-room schoolhouse, wandered through the library and bought some postcards. The Islanders use this money to buy more books for the children. Outside of the school yard is a treasure chest that a local family has built and filled with an assortment of things to sell to visitors; t-shirts, hats, and note cards with original artwork. You take what you like and they request that you simply send a check to them with money for your purchase. They supply a self-addressed envelope for this purpose. It must be working for them, for they have been doing business for a long time.
I’m now going to turn my efforts to the galley and make a loaf of cinnamon, apple bread. It will treat for me to make with our easy bake oven and our little red boat will definitely smell like home! Looking out of the companionway, I am so glad that I found time to make the boom-tent before leaving. It is working quite well, expanding protection beyond the dodger. Life is good as is our adventure thus far.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
June 7, 2008
Jones Island, a small island merely two miles away from Deer Harbor, that took us no more than 20 minutes to locate has been our next home. We are tied to a buoy in the North Bay. We are not alone. There have been a couple boats tethered to buoys, yet activity from within has been at a minimal. I’ve overheard several times, “It’s Saturday evening and there are still open buoys.” This bay offers more sheltered protection than the Southern Bay. The water is clear, emerald green and flanked by two rock banks fringed with a variety of trees; mostly evergreens. The beach has a sandy area which allows boats to row directly to shore without fear of destroying the bottom. There is a small dock; useful to row and tie up to with one’s dinghy – allowing one’s legs to stretch out with easy hikes.
Talking about birds! To feel as if I wasn’t being too lazy I decided to clean house. I was washing away the debris of everyday life from the cockpit when a big splash came from directly behind the stern – a large hawk had flown down and in one fell swoop, caught his dinner, a fish that resembled a good size trout. The Great Blue Herons had greeted us, or was it their attempt at urging us to move away? Their song is really more of a discordant noise, than alluring, inspiring sounds of smaller birds or the “hear me roar” of an eagle. There have been a variety of sea birds skimming the bay. My memory fails what I used to know, and I regret that we did not bring a bird book with us. Just might have to buy one when we stop in a port large enough to support a bookstore.
Yesterday while taking the shorter version of today’s hike, I was walking ahead of Pat and in a big snag, overlooking the waterway there was something that looked as if it were a bird. It was larger than any bird I had ever seen outside a zoo. Bringing my camera with its telescopic lens to my eye, I zoomed in to take a better look. No it wasn’t just a broken branch – it moved! It was an eagle and within a short while he took off and flew overhead. Perhaps, I may be mistaken, the wingspan looked as if it could easily be five feet. The elegance and power it displayed was awesome. Before long, he was flying in the thermals with four more eagles of equal or smaller size. The probability of seeing this at home is nearly zilch and once the island fills with more visitors, will the eagles be as comfortable to remain seated in branches as they walk below?
The paths are richly padded with a variety of mosses and supple grasses; all indicating a wet spring. There are segments where trees are densely covered with hair like moss; one could almost imagine they were walking in the Olympic Rainforest. The difference is that the trees were overhanging the Straits of Juan de Fuca. In the winter of 1990 there was a huge windstorm that caused a great disturbance. There are sections where large trees are laying stacked similar to the fallen sticks of the child’s game, Pick Up Sticks.
We have been relaxing without any thoughts of doing more these past two days. Hiking, paddling around with our kayaks, reading entire books, or napping! Something tells me that not all of our journey will be so light or undemanding. I shall appreciate these days and not worry of what might be, tomorrow. I’ll definitely be rested to give the Captain and Liberte’ my best. Sunday we will move over to Stuart Island. An island rich with history and many opportunities to stretch our legs over many trails.
Talking about birds! To feel as if I wasn’t being too lazy I decided to clean house. I was washing away the debris of everyday life from the cockpit when a big splash came from directly behind the stern – a large hawk had flown down and in one fell swoop, caught his dinner, a fish that resembled a good size trout. The Great Blue Herons had greeted us, or was it their attempt at urging us to move away? Their song is really more of a discordant noise, than alluring, inspiring sounds of smaller birds or the “hear me roar” of an eagle. There have been a variety of sea birds skimming the bay. My memory fails what I used to know, and I regret that we did not bring a bird book with us. Just might have to buy one when we stop in a port large enough to support a bookstore.
Yesterday while taking the shorter version of today’s hike, I was walking ahead of Pat and in a big snag, overlooking the waterway there was something that looked as if it were a bird. It was larger than any bird I had ever seen outside a zoo. Bringing my camera with its telescopic lens to my eye, I zoomed in to take a better look. No it wasn’t just a broken branch – it moved! It was an eagle and within a short while he took off and flew overhead. Perhaps, I may be mistaken, the wingspan looked as if it could easily be five feet. The elegance and power it displayed was awesome. Before long, he was flying in the thermals with four more eagles of equal or smaller size. The probability of seeing this at home is nearly zilch and once the island fills with more visitors, will the eagles be as comfortable to remain seated in branches as they walk below?
The paths are richly padded with a variety of mosses and supple grasses; all indicating a wet spring. There are segments where trees are densely covered with hair like moss; one could almost imagine they were walking in the Olympic Rainforest. The difference is that the trees were overhanging the Straits of Juan de Fuca. In the winter of 1990 there was a huge windstorm that caused a great disturbance. There are sections where large trees are laying stacked similar to the fallen sticks of the child’s game, Pick Up Sticks.
We have been relaxing without any thoughts of doing more these past two days. Hiking, paddling around with our kayaks, reading entire books, or napping! Something tells me that not all of our journey will be so light or undemanding. I shall appreciate these days and not worry of what might be, tomorrow. I’ll definitely be rested to give the Captain and Liberte’ my best. Sunday we will move over to Stuart Island. An island rich with history and many opportunities to stretch our legs over many trails.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
June 5, 2008
Dinner is simmering on the stove. What is it you ask? I don’t know! Call it Deer Harbor Inspiration; mixed rice, onions and garlic, (well, that should tease the senses to ‘being good’), a little prosciutto, stewed tomatoes – so a goulash of sorts, sprinkle fresh Romano/parmesan cheese over the top before serving. A green salad to balance it off! Funny I totally spaced out this morning to plan ahead. Is this new lifestyle going to alter my focus on meals to prepare and serve? I don’t think so, it is too ingrained –I love cooking. Having a freezer, no matter how small it is, is a new concept and I totally forgot to take out meat for tonight’s dinner.
Today we elected to remain here in Deer Harbor. It was NW wet. What was the point of moving over to Jones Island, 15 minutes away, and sit without the amenities of electrical power? The guest moorage is minimal. While paying for our mochas this morning I asked the girls at the counter what they expected for the summer. They shared that winter was busier than it has been since the price of gas and diesel has leapt up. They are hoping that things will improve once school is out, but they aren’t holding their breath. Those who can afford the fuel prices are in bigger boats and scoot past the island because they are well equipped with food and fuel.
I kept busy working on starting the process of organizing all the photos we took two months ago to the SW, learning how to easily work around the internet with the new Wi-Fi system and magically, time does take off by when cruising! Pat is having a ball with reading his stash of books and magazines and ogling over some very expensive boats, no yachts, moored nearby. Tonight we might watch a movie on the computer screen and perhaps my knitting will re-appear.
Yesterday our trip over to Deer Harbor was no longer than an hour. Between the short distance of travel between points, the wind once again, behind us, and Pat’s philosophy of recharging the battery, we motored. The wind did pick up to around 13 knots and so we unfurled the jib to supplement the engine power. Within 5 minutes the wind dissipated to nothing more than a breeze. In came the jib. We sure do like the ease of retrieving the sheets, must have to do with the winches, pulleys and the drum the sail attaches to. The only excitement was passing through Pole Pass.
Seeing the water churning, boiling in so many directions, at the narrowest point, gave me a moment to reflect, “Oh gee, what will the boat do?” Liberte’ just cut right through it although you could feel the water trying to bully its way with her. Had there been a drop from entering to exiting, I would have expected something similar to rafting down a rapid on the Colorado River. It wasn’t even close to that, but prior knowledge can play with one’s imagination! Honestly could not imagine owning one of the many homes along this pass. When would there ever be a time to play or push a boat out into this area? Would slack tide work in this spot? I would not think so.
Pat treated me to a good meal at the Deer Harbor Inn Restaurant. The food was good but the waitress was a hoot! She was a spunky woman, never without a loss for words and very optimistic, moving to the music in the background. The dessert, warm blackberry cobbler a’la mode was one of the best and no guilt in enjoying each bite because we had walked a half mile to get there.
Besides lounging around in our warm and cozy floating home, we went for a walk around the area. I was getting my fill of joy of all the gardens surrounding the homes running the gamut of derelict houses to those that are well cared for. Irises, ranging from large deep, dark purple, to lighter shades of violet and golden yellow , delicate white Japanese irises, a Emperor tree, larger than I’ve ever seen, pink and white hawthorn trees, bold orange poppies loosing their vigor but bold all the same and all the shades of green that erupt in spring. The earth is so dense with all the growth, dirt the supports the roots and nourishes the plants cannot be seen. And once again, the air is filled with the perfume of wild roses. Pat & decided that if ever we considered moving, Orcas Island would be a place that would be the first place to consider. Just the right amount of culture, shopping, a sense of open country and Pat would be delighted to have his boat moored in the San Juan Islands- so many choices of where to go at your back door.
Tomorrow it will be Jones Island, small and yet not so small that we can’t go and explore with a hike or two and perhaps paddle around with the kayaks. From the looks of the weather report, that may not be an option, without foul weather gear.
Tonight Pat extended an invitation to our neighboring cruisers to come over after dinner. Bill and Karen did, bearing gifts of wine, fun cocktail napkins and great stories. I truly enjoy hearing especially from the women, their thoughts on life at sea; the challenges of the elements, the demands of sailing and the beauty and ultimate joy of having the wind work for and with you. A perfect way to end the day.
Today we elected to remain here in Deer Harbor. It was NW wet. What was the point of moving over to Jones Island, 15 minutes away, and sit without the amenities of electrical power? The guest moorage is minimal. While paying for our mochas this morning I asked the girls at the counter what they expected for the summer. They shared that winter was busier than it has been since the price of gas and diesel has leapt up. They are hoping that things will improve once school is out, but they aren’t holding their breath. Those who can afford the fuel prices are in bigger boats and scoot past the island because they are well equipped with food and fuel.
I kept busy working on starting the process of organizing all the photos we took two months ago to the SW, learning how to easily work around the internet with the new Wi-Fi system and magically, time does take off by when cruising! Pat is having a ball with reading his stash of books and magazines and ogling over some very expensive boats, no yachts, moored nearby. Tonight we might watch a movie on the computer screen and perhaps my knitting will re-appear.
Yesterday our trip over to Deer Harbor was no longer than an hour. Between the short distance of travel between points, the wind once again, behind us, and Pat’s philosophy of recharging the battery, we motored. The wind did pick up to around 13 knots and so we unfurled the jib to supplement the engine power. Within 5 minutes the wind dissipated to nothing more than a breeze. In came the jib. We sure do like the ease of retrieving the sheets, must have to do with the winches, pulleys and the drum the sail attaches to. The only excitement was passing through Pole Pass.
Seeing the water churning, boiling in so many directions, at the narrowest point, gave me a moment to reflect, “Oh gee, what will the boat do?” Liberte’ just cut right through it although you could feel the water trying to bully its way with her. Had there been a drop from entering to exiting, I would have expected something similar to rafting down a rapid on the Colorado River. It wasn’t even close to that, but prior knowledge can play with one’s imagination! Honestly could not imagine owning one of the many homes along this pass. When would there ever be a time to play or push a boat out into this area? Would slack tide work in this spot? I would not think so.
Pat treated me to a good meal at the Deer Harbor Inn Restaurant. The food was good but the waitress was a hoot! She was a spunky woman, never without a loss for words and very optimistic, moving to the music in the background. The dessert, warm blackberry cobbler a’la mode was one of the best and no guilt in enjoying each bite because we had walked a half mile to get there.
Besides lounging around in our warm and cozy floating home, we went for a walk around the area. I was getting my fill of joy of all the gardens surrounding the homes running the gamut of derelict houses to those that are well cared for. Irises, ranging from large deep, dark purple, to lighter shades of violet and golden yellow , delicate white Japanese irises, a Emperor tree, larger than I’ve ever seen, pink and white hawthorn trees, bold orange poppies loosing their vigor but bold all the same and all the shades of green that erupt in spring. The earth is so dense with all the growth, dirt the supports the roots and nourishes the plants cannot be seen. And once again, the air is filled with the perfume of wild roses. Pat & decided that if ever we considered moving, Orcas Island would be a place that would be the first place to consider. Just the right amount of culture, shopping, a sense of open country and Pat would be delighted to have his boat moored in the San Juan Islands- so many choices of where to go at your back door.
Tomorrow it will be Jones Island, small and yet not so small that we can’t go and explore with a hike or two and perhaps paddle around with the kayaks. From the looks of the weather report, that may not be an option, without foul weather gear.
Tonight Pat extended an invitation to our neighboring cruisers to come over after dinner. Bill and Karen did, bearing gifts of wine, fun cocktail napkins and great stories. I truly enjoy hearing especially from the women, their thoughts on life at sea; the challenges of the elements, the demands of sailing and the beauty and ultimate joy of having the wind work for and with you. A perfect way to end the day.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
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.
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.
June 1, 2008
June 1, 2008Leaving Des Moines was not as difficult as I had imagined. Finding logical sense of where to place the last minute food, clothing and amusing toys to keep me occupied kept me busy until it was time to assist Pat in coming free of the moorage. Melinda and I said our good byes with love that only a mother and daughters can understand. I watched her walk up the steep ramp to the truck; she did not turn back to watch me wave to her, hear me say a silent prayer to protect and guide her during my leave. Rick had good advice with a humorous twist and friendly smile as he released the dock lines. Earlier, Jeanne came over with encouragement and wisdom of communicating – Captain to Best Mate and visa versa. It was just past noon. We were on our way.
My head was going in many directions: I wanted to remain close to ‘be there’ for my daughter; but I knew that this time was meant for her to learn what inner strength and assimilate the courage and wisdom that she has within her. Leaving my garden, the soil that nourishes my soul as much as it does the plants and flowers I’ve planted and nurtured. Letting go of my home with my ‘things ‘ that tie me to someone, some time or some place. In most rooms there is a full lifetime of projects begun or merely waiting to emerge. Then the thoughts turned to my husband. It was time that I follow his lead and become his ‘best mate’.
The sea, the rhythm to cruising – reading charts that describe the currents for incoming and outgoing tides, times of high and low tides, tide prints, navigational maps with buoys warning of caution, heights of bridges, taking note of the barometer’s pressure change each morning and taking care of the ’Princess ’with coffee first thing in the morning and at the end of the day all and more, bring to life a man that is transformational. A brightness comes to his eyes, an ease across his face as he relaxes and yet is vigilant to the needs of Liberte’; required conditions of the wind, the reading the water and its’ power. Orders flow “to pull in the main”,” let the jib out”, “ready to tack”; to a neophyte they seem sharp or rather abrupt, but to a sailor of 40 years plus, it is merely a function of sailing forward. I am amazed as he sits on either starboard or port, high on the side, looking up at the main, beyond the jib, down to the horizon, looking for traffic, wind patterns on the water’s surface, one hand on the wheel and sometimes just letting go and allowing the boat to set itself in the ‘groove’. Should a strong puff of wind show a sign of aggression, he will securely hold the wheel and regain command. When the winds are strong and serious, he takes a stance behind the helm and places two hands on the wheel. When he is at the helm I trust his judgment, although that doesn’t mean that it is always pure pleasure. When the boat lurches from one wave to another or extended periods of time Liberte is healing beyond 30 degrees I don’t consider this my style of fun. Nevertheless, Pat is definitely in his element once his feet step onboard Liberte’. He is more alive and happier afloat in a boat, than any place I’ve seen him.
By the time we approached Three Tree Point, the main was up and we were sailing downwind at an easy 4+ knots. This was a gentle, easy start for me to immerse myself to a different way of life, a vagabond of sorts for two months at sea. A little later we unfurled the roller furling and picked up speed. By three PM we were docked securely at the Blake Island marina. Shortly after our arrival the Good Times Ship took the visitors back to Seattle. This left the island to a handful of boaters, most remaining within their large power boat. It ends up that we knew the couple moored in front of us; they had helped their son Collin, start the Mid Sound Summer Social races the first year and I was busy documenting the event with photos. The conversation we had later that evening once again convinced me how the people cruising are rich with stories and strong with support!
We laced up our hiking shoes and took an easy hike through Blake Island. Even though most of the moorage was filled, there was no sign of others sharing the path. The path also indicated that there had not been many previously passing through. Where the canopy was thick overhead, the path was thick strewn with windfall debris; not yet pounded down to the consistency of fine bark. The new grasses of spring, soft with fresh growth, were positioned upright. Had someone been by, it had been long enough that the grass rebound with resilience of early life. On both sides of the path, new fronds were pushing aside the old sword fern, bracken fern was reaching as high as five feet. Minute vines of some wild berry were decorated with white blossoms – promises of bearing fruit later on this summer. The air was permeated with a light, sweet essence, I saw no roses, yet it smelled of such. At the start of the hike, the trail followed parallel to the coastline, thus the gentle breaking of the waves broke against the beach and tumbling a few smaller stones. Ah, the sound of birds was true music to my ears. Should this journey continue to expose me to similar trails, the separation from my garden will not be so hard to endure.
By the time we returned Pat was more than ready to open his new kayak. Was it made with the newer valves that hold? We sure did hope so. After last weekend’s adventure with the four year old kayak; the valves were not trustworthy of holding air. Ever have that sinking feeling? Pat sure did! Now, we are happy to relate, the new kayak is perfect. He sits high above the water line, it tracks well and there is no sagging anywhere. We paddled around the marina and out just a little way to relax. There were hundreds if not thousands of tiny, fish, jumping all over the water. The surface was as if it was raining in reverse, from the surface upward. The wind and current were strong enough and we were tired from the excitement of a new journey that we chose not to venture out to test our prowess and return back to Liberte’.
The new Force 10 barbeque works hot and we will have plenty of time to work out the refining of the flame! Pat will have rib steak to practice on Monday. Having a refrigerator with a freezer, no matter how small, really helps to pack a great stockpile of healthy food.
My head was going in many directions: I wanted to remain close to ‘be there’ for my daughter; but I knew that this time was meant for her to learn what inner strength and assimilate the courage and wisdom that she has within her. Leaving my garden, the soil that nourishes my soul as much as it does the plants and flowers I’ve planted and nurtured. Letting go of my home with my ‘things ‘ that tie me to someone, some time or some place. In most rooms there is a full lifetime of projects begun or merely waiting to emerge. Then the thoughts turned to my husband. It was time that I follow his lead and become his ‘best mate’.
The sea, the rhythm to cruising – reading charts that describe the currents for incoming and outgoing tides, times of high and low tides, tide prints, navigational maps with buoys warning of caution, heights of bridges, taking note of the barometer’s pressure change each morning and taking care of the ’Princess ’with coffee first thing in the morning and at the end of the day all and more, bring to life a man that is transformational. A brightness comes to his eyes, an ease across his face as he relaxes and yet is vigilant to the needs of Liberte’; required conditions of the wind, the reading the water and its’ power. Orders flow “to pull in the main”,” let the jib out”, “ready to tack”; to a neophyte they seem sharp or rather abrupt, but to a sailor of 40 years plus, it is merely a function of sailing forward. I am amazed as he sits on either starboard or port, high on the side, looking up at the main, beyond the jib, down to the horizon, looking for traffic, wind patterns on the water’s surface, one hand on the wheel and sometimes just letting go and allowing the boat to set itself in the ‘groove’. Should a strong puff of wind show a sign of aggression, he will securely hold the wheel and regain command. When the winds are strong and serious, he takes a stance behind the helm and places two hands on the wheel. When he is at the helm I trust his judgment, although that doesn’t mean that it is always pure pleasure. When the boat lurches from one wave to another or extended periods of time Liberte is healing beyond 30 degrees I don’t consider this my style of fun. Nevertheless, Pat is definitely in his element once his feet step onboard Liberte’. He is more alive and happier afloat in a boat, than any place I’ve seen him.
By the time we approached Three Tree Point, the main was up and we were sailing downwind at an easy 4+ knots. This was a gentle, easy start for me to immerse myself to a different way of life, a vagabond of sorts for two months at sea. A little later we unfurled the roller furling and picked up speed. By three PM we were docked securely at the Blake Island marina. Shortly after our arrival the Good Times Ship took the visitors back to Seattle. This left the island to a handful of boaters, most remaining within their large power boat. It ends up that we knew the couple moored in front of us; they had helped their son Collin, start the Mid Sound Summer Social races the first year and I was busy documenting the event with photos. The conversation we had later that evening once again convinced me how the people cruising are rich with stories and strong with support!
We laced up our hiking shoes and took an easy hike through Blake Island. Even though most of the moorage was filled, there was no sign of others sharing the path. The path also indicated that there had not been many previously passing through. Where the canopy was thick overhead, the path was thick strewn with windfall debris; not yet pounded down to the consistency of fine bark. The new grasses of spring, soft with fresh growth, were positioned upright. Had someone been by, it had been long enough that the grass rebound with resilience of early life. On both sides of the path, new fronds were pushing aside the old sword fern, bracken fern was reaching as high as five feet. Minute vines of some wild berry were decorated with white blossoms – promises of bearing fruit later on this summer. The air was permeated with a light, sweet essence, I saw no roses, yet it smelled of such. At the start of the hike, the trail followed parallel to the coastline, thus the gentle breaking of the waves broke against the beach and tumbling a few smaller stones. Ah, the sound of birds was true music to my ears. Should this journey continue to expose me to similar trails, the separation from my garden will not be so hard to endure.
By the time we returned Pat was more than ready to open his new kayak. Was it made with the newer valves that hold? We sure did hope so. After last weekend’s adventure with the four year old kayak; the valves were not trustworthy of holding air. Ever have that sinking feeling? Pat sure did! Now, we are happy to relate, the new kayak is perfect. He sits high above the water line, it tracks well and there is no sagging anywhere. We paddled around the marina and out just a little way to relax. There were hundreds if not thousands of tiny, fish, jumping all over the water. The surface was as if it was raining in reverse, from the surface upward. The wind and current were strong enough and we were tired from the excitement of a new journey that we chose not to venture out to test our prowess and return back to Liberte’.
The new Force 10 barbeque works hot and we will have plenty of time to work out the refining of the flame! Pat will have rib steak to practice on Monday. Having a refrigerator with a freezer, no matter how small, really helps to pack a great stockpile of healthy food.
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