Liberte's Chatterbox

Bellingham, WA September 25-28

2009-09-29T17:07:00.000-07:00

I find it amazing to step off the boat and be taken into a home that is more spa-like than one can imagine. Sunny and Justin have created just that with their home located on Padilla Bay. There are 70 waterfront feet on and overlooking the bay. From the living room and porch you and sit and see all the way over to Sucia, Matia and Lummi Islands as well as Cherry and Robert Point. Sunsets are obscured only if the clouds get in the way. Justin actually saw and photographed 27 eagles working the tide flats this spring. The first evening there, we were enjoying the feeling of being sated from a first-rate dinner, the sliding door open to hear the waves breaking against the shore and sitting comfortable in red leather chairs and watching the sky turn shades of glowing red. Between this exquisite atmosphere it was unbeatable to pop up and hug my daughter whenever. Between schedules, we don’t get together often enough. Somehow I must work to change this.

Saturday Sunny created an excellent breakfast that included rosemary scones, baked to perfection. Mother Nature did us a great service and provided sunshine and light winds. Sunny had planned ahead and had all the ingredients of a wonderful lunch while Captain Pat navigated us out and around Bellingham Bay for a perfect afternoon sail. There was college laser competition going on – it was fun to watch however one of their buoys designating the course was right by the entrance to the marina. This was the only tricky aspect of the day, negotiating around them and not be pushed into shallow water.

Sunday Sunny was accommodating and chauffeured Pat to his PHRF meeting in the morning and then took me grocery shopping so the last week would find us eating fresh rather from cans. It was hard to say good bye to Sunny however knowing she had to turn around and clean up after house guests and prepare for a new work week it was the right thing to do. Sleeping on the boat after two delightful nights in a great bed, was doable but oh how I look forward to reaching home and sleeping in our full-sized bed again

Fossil Bay, Sucia Island September 23-25

2009-09-29T17:06:00.000-07:00

We managed to snag the last free buoy in Fossil Bay. We think that any retiree with a boat grabbed the opportunity to get away for a last fling before the weather took a turn towards wet and cold. Many of these people did not venture off their boats but we did explore the trails to Echo and Shallow Bay and walking the beaches and picking up pretty rocks. Reading and completing Pat’s sweater were the ‘work’ we did for the most part of.

Roche Harbor Customs, Garrison Bay, San Juan Island September 21-23

2009-09-29T17:05:00.000-07:00

Re-entering at Roche Harbor Customs was as easy and pleasant as it was last year. There were several boats tied up yet the process of being cleared went very well for us. Not needing amenities of the small store, nor wanting to be tied to a dock we selected to head back over to Garrison Bay. We love the open serene bay with English Camp a short paddle to wander around.

Pat had his introduction to bocce on the grounds of English Camp. Oh what fun it was to be soaking up sunshine and attempting to have our balls bounce or roll close to the marker among the crisp fall leaves. I did ‘crow’ a couple of times as luck had my balls manage to find their way closer than Pat’s!

The 1932 wooden boat, Catalyst, came in on the second afternoon and anchored behind us. It was built for UW as a research vessel. Between then and now it was in service during WWII and is now used as a small cruise ship which takes 12 passengers at a time to Alaska’s Inside Passage. They have eight kayaks stacked in the stern so the passengers can explore once they anchor for the day. I took some time the other day to check them out for more details. Definitely pricey, but what a way to see Alaska without having to use your own boat! In 1995 I went on the Norwegian Cruise Line, Noordam with thousands of other passengers. It was an inexpensive deal that made it possible to take my family to Alaska. Knowing now how up close we get to the inlets and various passages with my two Liberté cruises to Desolation Sound, the realization of what we missed due to the size of the ship and that much of the travel time was after daylight so we missed much of the scenery.

Cowichan Bay, BC September 20

2009-09-29T17:03:00.000-07:00

It was enjoyable to return to “Cow Bay” and walk down the main street with the locals and visitors. Hilary’s Cheese Shop, the True Grain Bread & Mill Bakery and Udderly Guy’s Ice Cream were filled many with the desire to treat themselves to fresh and wholesome products. Beyond filling the gourmet gullet the treat of walking into and through Arthur Vickers Shipyard Gallery is a must! Arthur’s prints are exquisite and unique. We feel guilty at walking in and leaving without a purchase. I told Arthur and his wife that the third time back would be the charm. Many of the prints remind the viewer of places they have traveled to, especially we mariners wandering around Vancouver Island and Desolation Sound. There is magic hidden within each print too. The changing of the lighting or physically moving oneself, colors change or another layer/s appears. Awesome indeed. With a bit of luck we will own an Arthur Vickers print.

Chemanius, BC September 18-19

2009-09-29T16:59:00.000-07:00

Owing to the fact that “The Woman Wearing Black” was sold out Friday, we elected to make our layover in Chemanius for two evenings. We were not disappointed to hold out for the play was entertaining. It had Pat sitting on the edge of his seat. This occurred after he was startled into an awareness that a third person, the woman wearing black was standing by him; softly stomping her feet to get his attention to move his feet in so she could progress toward the stage. Yes, we were sitting in the middle front row. Our attention was solely on the illuminated two actors directly in front of us.

Harmen, our host at the marina, was as congenial and helpful as last year. His role of harbormaster had an added dimension this year, while a couple young boys were left to their own devices to while away their day. The afternoon was hot; I was sitting under the awning, deep into my book when I heard, “Excuse me. Can you give me my hook?” It took a couple times to realize the little voice was directed in my direction. By the time I was responsive, Harmen was also tuned into the request. Once it was clear that the boys had been casting their line and it got away from them, leaving the hook up and over the boom and tangled in the lazy jack. Now you must realize that the boys were fishing for perch inside the marina. The hook once retrieved, was designed to hook a halibut twice the size of the boys! It was hard not to keep a straight face as Harmen is reminding the boys to drop the line, not cast. A short time later, bored with not having luck catching anything, the boys then began using the ramps as monkey bars. By this time, Harmen’s good will to the boys had been lost and they disappeared.

Chemanius is renowned for the murals and sculpture that depict the town’s history. The public parking at the edge of the town’s shops always had one or two large tourist buses. The average age of these tourists-graying. Late September found most of the shops light to empty. All the cafes were bustling with customers; the brunch and lunch crowd. We elected to eat onboard the boat for serving dinner is not a common option within walking distance of the theater and marina.

September 29, 2009 A safe harbor; welcoming Langley Marina, Whidbey Island

2009-09-29T11:33:00.000-07:00

“Hello, I’m Sue and we are on a 38’ sailboat seeking moorage in your marina.”

“Do you have a tall black mast?”
“Yes! We are looking for a place to tie up tonight – to get away from the storm brewing.”
“Yes, I have room for you. I will meet and help you at the dock.”

What a welcome Wayne, dock master, gave us here in Langley. We were vacillating for just a few minutes whether to continue on for another four hours to reach Kingston and take the chance that the rising winds would do just that-escalate. The answer would lie in whether or not there was room in the marina. As the afternoon progressed with gusting wind and rain we are grateful to this decision to stop.

I had taken the helm with light, negligible wind. I was joking how lucky I was to have the warm and calm shift. Within forty minutes I watched the knot meter move steadily upwards and the direction of the wind rotate back and forth and end at the bow with gusts over 25. With this coming up so quickly, the waves had not had the opportunity to grow. Getting cold was my only discomfort. Before Pat returned to the helm, he listened to the weather report; winds 25-30 were expected. We left Bellingham at 7 AM with no winds; the southbound voyage out of Bellingham Bay was smooth with the wind lifting slightly. The Rosario Strait looked smooth at 10:30. However we decided that the slow but known path of Swinomish Slough was our choice. Not long after making this choice, the winds began to blow and the air was cold. Good choice! Once safely out of the slough my rotations at the helm began. The first couple shifts were easy – very pleasant. It was amazing to me that we were the only boat more often than not out on the waterways. As I began, my last shift as we approached the southern end of Whidbey Island weather changed very quickly.

We are tied up close to the dock, very close with the wind pushing the fenders snug to the point of groaning. Today is a lazy day of waiting this weather pattern to pass. Pat is relaxing with a new book while I make an attempt to catch up on ten days of our journey.

After another great meal last night, we have decided that this has been a journey of discovering great food, many in places we never expected four star meals. I wish that I had kept better record of those meals and had a camera when they were set before us. Everyone were worthy of a presentation in Gourmet magazine and Ruth Reichl writing a critique and rating them with stars. Anacortes’ small Bellisima Tattoria Italian restaurant my daughter Sunny recommended, began teasing and treating our taste buds: Westview’s Alchemist, Masthead Restaurant in Cowichan Bay, probably the best of all, Martine’s Bistro in Comax, Giuseppe’s in Bellingham another top choice thanks to Sunny recommending. The Penn Cove mussels at the Edgecliffe Restaurant last night will be our last meal out. Keeping Pat looking forward to my meals may be difficult – he may think every meal should begin with an appetizer and progress through to the grand dessert with coffee. I don’t think that would work with his slim waistline or my time spent in the kitchen. Once in a while yes, I love to show my creativity in the kitchen, but not every day, or week! Besides the finis of the chefs, it was the presentation that wowed me more often than not.

I shall close this out shortly and take Pat up to the town of Langley, treating him to his beloved mocha while looking for a book he has not read. That might take awhile! Afterwards I intend on being inspired with window shopping the shops and boutiques that offer high quality products made by the artists living on the island. This afternoon I will catch up on the stops at Chemanius, Cowichan Bay, the return to Garrison Bay, and Fossil Bay on Sucia Island.

September 18, 2009 Heading south to Chemanius, BC

2009-09-18T20:32:00.000-07:00

As I predicted last evening, the air was fresh and as we left Nanaimo at 7 AM the air was permeated with the smell of freshly cut lumber, lots of it. The only swells on the water were those made by the ferries. If you saw them, you may wonder why the wake is not larger; these vehicles are so large, and by their appearance one would wonder how they stay afloat; lots of lead in their keel so says Pat. The area was virtually void of boats when we left so it allowed me to pay attention to the details of the new day. The sun was hidden behind a veneer of clouds, working hard to burn them away. A lot of effort was needed to warm the air, which was hinting at the new season, fall. A small quantity of seabirds skimmed the water, in groups of three to five. One could become very tired simply by watching them work at flying for their wings motion was very rapid- rather frantic looking!

Once we were well out in the bay, we looked astern and a contingency of other boats were lined in a row, about fifteen minutes behind us. Many were powerboats so you know that they would catch up any time they pushed the throttle forward. We actually slowed down as to not arrive at the rapids at Dodds Narrow too early. As it was, we did go through about twenty minutes before slack. Pat had fun running with the two extra knots the water was still pushing out this narrow channel.

A majority of those heading southbound at the same time as we, veered starboard towards Ladysmith, BC. We pulled out Waggoner’s Guide and perhaps it will be a place to explore on our next journey north. We are interested in revisiting Chemanius. Last year we saw the live production, Joan of Arc and we are curious and ready to have the culture of a play at this point of time. We now have tickets to see A Woman Wearing Black tomorrow night for tonight’s auditorium is sold out.

As was with Nanaimo, the town is quiet with few tourists. We hit our favorite used bookstore/coffee shop. We donated six read books and in return added three new ones to our library. I keep myself busy with knitting and writing this blog so have just read five books thus far. Pat, well, let’s say has read quite a collection, I have lost track as to the number. The important aspect to remember is that we both are content.

September 17, 2009 Welcome Abigail Irene - this is your birthday!

2009-09-18T20:30:00.000-07:00

This morning we received a text message claiming “It’s a girl!” Little Abby was born this morning to Pat’s niece Heather and husband Josh around 10:54, weighing in at 6 pounds, 10 ounces, with all her fingers and toes and ‘beautiful’ Grandma Wendy says with great pride! We are expecting the photos to come flooding in soon from the grandparents and parents. It brings back memories of welcoming my three daughters; the delight I had with each one when they were placed in my arms and we began our lifetime of conversations. Now they are all women and the conversations are getting better- with depth, quality and wisdom I admit freely that I learn from them often. Hard to believe that my eldest is 35 and my youngest is 30. The second incoming call today was from my third daughter and she was so positive, so excited about the promise of the day and future. It is hard not to ‘catch’ a little of this infectious zeal for life. Now stop and think about thirty years ago. If cell phones were around, they were the size of small pocketbook and their range- definitely not Seattle to Comax, BC! True I have been frustrated on this trip with the glitches, inconsistent connections, however, more often than not, I can pick up our smaller than a hand, cell phone and talk to anyone and without wires, hit ‘send’ and you can receive my thoughts! What will technology be for my daughters in the next thirty years, let alone for little Abby? More than likely it is a mere wild idea in someone’s imagination. It will be fun and interesting if we baby boomers can keep up with technology as it enters.

We elected to wait yesterday's 15-25 knots and pouring rain for what we learned today is a nine hour route. The day began with virtually no wind and then progressed to 19 knots towards the last third of the journey. The wind created four feet swells. As more time comes my way on the water, I have come to appreciate it when the wind is on our nose and Pat says it was better to just go by motor. With having gone by sail across the Straits of Georgia a month ago, with same conditions and today’s trip, and not enjoying the ‘plank position’. Honestly I prefer going with motor, the boat is upright and the pounding up and down with the waves is OK with me. Trying to learn to be a sailor at 60 is not as easy as it would be if half the age. While taking my stand at the helm, while motoring, it occurred to me that perhaps I feel more in control than when under sail. The wind can and is squirrelly and like a woman, change her mind without any rhyme or reason. I usually am quite anxious when it is my turn under sail. This is more often when the wind is at our stern and Pat warns me every time not to ‘jib’ the boat. Pat was quite chagrin upon my sharing this revelation; He married a power-boater! Bringing this to the table, we should be able to work around to a viable solution. I enjoy Liberté for the rock of a home she offers, just wish to save the thrilling aspect to Pat and his race team. I am a princess who loves blue s!kies with matching waters, soft warm air that gently pushes our boat quietly through the waterways. Heeling no more than 15 degrees and if there is a greater degree and chances of quick change in wind speed or direction, an extra seaman to know and do what is necessary. Seeing what we do see on these journeys north could not be done any other way than by boat and I am not willing to give this up. Perhaps the better or equal benefit of boating are the wonderful people engaged with the same curiosity and penchant desire to see what lies behind the next bend.

Nanaimo, was considerably quieter in the inner marina as was the walkway along the waterfront. Those queuing in a serpentine row to board the seaplanes were dressed for business, not summer casual. Shops and restaurants are now posting their winter hours, or closed for the season. Pat was very tired and cold for he had taken the majority of time at the helm so the 1st mate could be comfortable and continue working on his sweater as well as fix coffee or breakfast and snacks. He really is very accommodating to my comforts. The evening sky turned to darker shades of grey and by the time I headed off to bed, where Pat was deep in a state of sleep, the rain began to wash down our boat with varying degrees of intent. By morning everything will be fresh and ready for departure.

September 15, 2009 - 8 pounds of French-pressed coffee consumed-where are we?

2009-09-16T10:43:00.001-07:00

We are in Comax, BC after crossing the Straits of Georgia yesterday. Yes, we made it with less time heeling at 30 degrees, (thank you very much Captain Pat!), with SE winds ranging from 12-18+ knots and sea swells up to 4 feet. Perhaps the distraction of reading a romance novel is the remedy to forget how long I am stretched out like a long plank to brace myself. The only glitch we encountered was when I went to bring in the jib. It would not give in to my or Pat’s tug of war efforts before we reached the first red buoy guiding us into Comax. After some time and lots of effort, Pat decided to have me bring down the main and let the jib fly until we got to calmer water and hopefully less wind. I learned which line was the jib halyard and let her drop. (Pat has always had the roller furled jib on and ready for me. Thus I had to take hands-on lesson.) Upon getting into deeper water after passing the last of series of markers, the wind did not subdue itself, the water was less choppy, which was conducive to Pat walking up to the bow and checking out the problem. The solution was not easy to spot so he just stretched a couple bungee cords across the jib to keep it from flying away and we motored into the harbor without any hitches.

After getting the boat secured, we took a much needed walk through main street Comax. What a delight for my gardening joy. Every garden in homes, parking strips or hanging baskets or pots along the shops were precisely trimmed and groomed. And color. Oh my! What a celebration of color and joy for me. I was in 7th heaven for this was the only town that has nurtured their flowers on our nearly five weeks out. Even Mother Nature has been harsh with her natural gardens. Pat and I both were having a real sensation that we were still at sea. Our equilibrium was skewed and not until this morning did we feel grounded. I can only imagine what occurs to mariners after a full day of wind and waves after what I experienced with six hours.

We ate a wonderful dinner at Martines last evening, thanks to the strong recommendation from the harbor manager. Tonight we will give the Italian, Toscano’s an opportunity to tease and satisfy our taste buds. By the smell wafting out of the door and the number inside enjoying lunch, we should be guaranteed another superb meal.

I took Pat out for breakfast and once looking into a real mirror, decided we were going to separate! Pat was to return to the boat and catch up with his email while I searched out a hair salon. I am so grateful to Leann for she was available to help me. I was at her tender mercy. Having warm water flow over my head while she shampooed my hair was a gift well received. Living onboard Liberté I do try to limit the amount of water used every day. We haven’t even emptied the forty gallons between fill ups – but I am determined on conservation. It hasn’t been more than 5 days between stops at marinas, but just in case I would not want to run out due to being ‘high-maintenance’. Scissors in deft hands left me leaving an hour later feeling like a new woman. Funny how this little grooming can be such a big psychological boost; the remaining three weeks out and about the seas will more manageable. In return for the time to pamper myself, I in turn gave Pat a haircut. We are ready to mingle with the big town of Comax.

I had mentioned my desire to walk down to the heritage park. Pat agreed – and offered to stop at the coffee shop to pickup something to take along. Mocha in hand, he patiently waited while I stopped often, to take photos of the town or the ‘essence of’ Comax. Filberg Heritage Park’s nine acres was another piece of heaven for me. Complacent deer grazed or rested on the front lawn. Continue walking toward the water, a potting shed opens into a lengthy arbor walkway. Large poles set on rounded granite stones entwined with the twisted vines create an illusion of walls. Its’ smaller log beams were covered with combinations of fig, rose and wisteria plants. The canopy above allowed small amounts of sunlight to shine through to the walkway. I could close my eyes and imagine brides using this as their grand entrance to the groom and guests waiting at the opposite end. Everywhere you turn, the gardens are groomed, by volunteers. A self-guided tour of the Filberg home allowed visitors to walk through a very comfortable and unpretentious home. The many windows looked out to the sweeping green lawn edged with gardens filled with seasonal flowers. Large silver maples, filberts and cedar trees were everywhere, without disrupting the view of the sea beyond. Off to the right, the yard opened up to a fenced in cutting garden. Deadheading has allowed most flowers to continue producing blooms. Between the house and the Comax Avenue, the remaining acreage was once home for dairy animals, a root cellar and other fowl and animals to keep the family fed. I was very happy.

The contentment experienced at the park, I wish would follow me out at sea on extended trips. It is my personal struggle which in turn makes for unsettled air within the confines of our cabin. Borrowing inside one’s book or knitting like a fiend will not resolve this. I pray for a resolution.

As for the heading eight pounds of coffee; yes, we have used eight of the ten pounds of coffee I purchased at Starbucks prior to heading out. Knowing that we have two and half weeks to go, two more pounds were acquired as backup. We both love that first pot of French Pressed coffee in the morning. The remaining cups are good, nonetheless it is the aroma after the boiling water hits and begins to permeate the coarse grounds is a great form of bribing these two adults in getting going in the morning!

September 11, 2009 Malaspina Inlet Going down Alice in Wonderland’s rabbit’s hole

2009-09-16T10:34:00.000-07:00

Malaspina Inlet differs from Malaspina Strait by size and the fact we felt as if we were traveling into no man’s land, uncharted waters, (thank goodness we did have charts to note shoals hidden under the water’s surface), the wild northwest of yesterday. Neither a home, nor a boat was to be seen. As we were nearing Scott’s Point the signature of civilization was showing up; many aquaculture farms dotted the western side with long strings of small buoys, and homes of substantial size built or being built right up on the rocky ledge of the inlet. After passing the point and heading east the familiar Desolation Sound Park sign declared the sanctioned haven for mariners was just minutes away. There is a small, cove to anchor for one or two boats but the best place for anchorage was ‘Sunset Boulevard’. We shared this millpond of a cove with three other boats until evening approached and then a total of eleven. At least half of these eleven had dogs. We knew this for they all paddled their tenders down to the small park with trails off our stern several times each day.

As boats began arriving, I noted the affect the wakes had to the sounds. Moving in one direction, then another, the waves began sounding like running water on the rocks that form the shoreline. It was very similar to listening to water running, spilling over rocks of various sized on a small river. There are so many opportunities to take note of these nuances when you travel to places less traveled, or in our case off season. Silence prevails.
Besides the quiet, the most notable significant difference with this cove from others we have visited was how murky and filmy the water’s surface was. Death and dying came to mind. Small crabs, insects, inert and in various degrees of decomposition floated past the boat. There were probably not more than a handful, but it was eerie. It was interesting when we paddled around in our kayaks the first evening and each finger of the cove, the water quality was different. The most eastern bay you could hear the gurgling of a fresh water creek and small waterfalls. We could not see the water for the underbrush was dense. The beach was very muddy. Generally speaking, the basin is outlined with rocks that look as old as time. The evergreen trees are a testament to survival skills. Their roots are steadfastly holding onto the rocks and obtaining what little nutrients available from trees and shrubs not as resolute as they.

By 8:02 PM the evening light was fading and the small perch began surfacing, with bursts to feed on the insects unwisely choosing to be near the surface. The still water came alive in an irregular pattern until darkness overtook Sunset Boulevard. Every boat had their portrait mirrored on the water. I loved sitting in the cockpit listening to the quiet and watching the apricot glow above the tree line share that the sun was indeed setting in the west. The warmth from cabin lights coming on effused the bay. It was a perfect closure to a great day.

We spent three nights in Sunset Boulevard. Each day we sampled what was available without a lot of effort. We took the kayaks to shore and took the short hike over to a lake. The trail took us to a bog-like area and not a lake. A log jam and all the deep muck prevented us from wanting to pursue exploring. Returning to the trail we ventured off to another trail that led us to a very small series of waterfalls and creek. Probably the one we heard from our kayaks the night before. The pleasant discovery was parts scattered from a steam donkey; remnants from the logging days long ago. I had fun turning the camera on and shooting the parts strewn around and then left for years of various plants and moss to grow from them. My digital cameras are the best ‘bang for the dollar’ when it comes to entertaining myself! I can shoot away and the only thing it cost is time and should I be smart a disk to save them on. The third day we took our kayaks out and explored up to Scott Point. These kayaks have been great for getting us around in comfort and ease of transporting. Our timing was perfect, we returned to the boat ahead of the rain. Later in the afternoon we went over to a couple’s boat, Larry and Sue, and saw how people live very nicely on a 46’ trawler! They have been very happy with this lifestyle for the past four years. They have stopped in Des Moines and plan on returning later this year. Their little “Rocky”, a cockatiel will become our foster pet when they go to visit their family in New Jersey.

We have met several wonderful couples on this journey north and back again. The secret is to keep in contact with them throughout the year so that we place an “X” on charts and calendars so we meet again.

September 9, 2009 Refuge Cove

2009-09-09T18:55:00.001-07:00

By the time the daylight began to filter in the cabin I was more than ready to be anywhere but in the boat. The rain and wind worked singularly or in tandem. Yes, I began in a funk, the feeling of confinement was getting the better of me. The weather reports predicted more of the same as last night or worse. Tenados Bay is adequate for anchoring, but not the best. There are not many places to hike and explore, leaving kayaking around the very large perimeter your best option for outdoor activities.

We arrived in Refuge Cove, bundled in all our foul weather gear for the clouds were descending down the mountains in all directions but south. We were heading north, northwest. The passage was smooth and uneventful. There was a space awaiting our arrival and if felt so good to be onshore, even if it was just a floating pier! Not much has changed from last year. The pace is slow and easy. Everyone is happy to be out of the protection of their boats but you will note that lots of bright yellow coats and high boots are not discarded – not a lot of faith for the hours remaining in the day. We will provision from the shelves and freezer offerings in the store. I don’t have to worry about having to make choices for I can buy what they have or not. The store will be closing next week for their summer hours and there will only be limited hours until next May-June.

All the buildings are holding on to what they were given back in the 1940’s and by the looks of many, it has been a real struggle to survive. The little house on a float we parked in front of last year has a plastic tarp now suspended where colored sheets for curtains once hung in the upper level window. The window frame is askew, slightly drooping so that the window will not shut. The front door is left slightly open with the familiar flower pots sitting at either side, looking worse for wear with the summer heat Electricity is now being supplied with a conduit directly to the house rather than two extension cords that serpentine across the docks, and through the front door. The moss thriving very well on the cedar shakes is left as insulation or adornment. You make the choice.

The used bookstore, Pat thought he was going to have a wonderful leisurely time selecting books to replace his library with is closing this afternoon. Between the times we checked in at the office/grocery store at 11:30 and 2:00 the owner had boxed them all up and is moving away for the winter. Sorry Pat, you will have to read a little slower or read from Sue’s library onboard – How about a book on Gandhi or Marie Antoinette?

September 8, 2009 - Reflections on Laura Cove

2009-09-09T18:43:00.000-07:00

There were two full days of approaching rain, rain and walls of rain. I am thankful for having projects that have my full attention to their evolution. I was enjoying the obligatory imprisonment; option to go out and get soaked. The air within the cabin has a constant feeling of dampness and we elected to not add to this with more wet clothes. My thoughts to how as a younger woman, believed I could be a great pioneer woman dissolved into a puddle. This became very apparent while watching a couple paddling through to Laura Cove from Melody Cove. I sensed their hesitation as the pelting rain washed over them and then without a lot of heart, exit out. Less than half an hour from their departure, a large flash of light charged the cove followed by thunder shaking the boat almost immediately rendered my thoughts going the easier route was OK. Time being on my side, my mind wandered to the why I was leaning in this direction. I have been reading about different legendary pioneers of this region, many of them women. The common thread woven with each story is that they were engaged with exploring and navigating the waterways of Desolation Sound. I like the water, but I love and feel more at home on land. Before children, you would find me out and about the hikes in the Cascade and Olympic Mountains, all year round. I began with my father’s old Trapper Nelson backpack, ‘desert boots’, a heavy 5 pound sleeping bag and plastic tarp to call a tent! From there the new technology of the late 60’s and early 70’s found me with a 3 pound down bag and a 3-man tent I built without a pattern that was light; an entire twelve pounds, including the tent poles! That was considered luxurious. Now, back to where I was going. . .

Capi Blanchet, famed author of “Curve of Time” has my respect of not returning to the East coast to the security of a wealthy family after her husband drowned. She was able to be who and what she loved; an independent and adventurous woman and mother in the western frontier. The lessons of curiosity, learning by experience and by reading and following the discoveries of Captain Vancouver every year with her children built strong and self-reliant individuals. Betty L. Carey, in 1937 left The San Juan Islands in a refurbished dugout canoe, alone, and landed in Alaska. I don’t do well with being wet and cold. Call me faint of heart, I don’t mind. These women have my total respect. However I also respect the power of water and when you combine water with Mother Nature it equates for me the feeling of a small insignificant cork bobbing about. I’d prefer crafting a home from the woods or a plot of land, planting and harvesting my food from the land. In retrospect, some of my fondest memories as a young woman are those years honing these skills while my children were growing up. I am enjoying exploring here in Desolation Sound with the comfort of Liberté and knowing that Captain Pat has years of experience and learned knowledge to keep me safe. He too seems to be enjoying this trip for together we are experiencing places he has not been to on his prior trips to this country.

The radio station, “The River” out of Campbell River is a very youthful. While my bamboo needles were crossing with knits and purls, the colors of yarn painting melody of supple fibers, I heard and listen to the words to songs as “If I was a Millionaire”,’ . . . I’d buy you a fur coat, but not real, cause that would be cruel.’ or “I Wish I Was Conscience-Free”. . .na, na, na. My goodness did the baby-boomers take up all the combination of melodies and lyrics? Outside the rain would not even keep to the rhythm of the discordant beat inside. After a period of time and feeling restless rather than soothed, I exchanged the stereo to my selection of music on the i-pod.

It was great to awake to natural, unfiltered sunlight yesterday. After breakfast we elected to take the kayaks off the deck and paddle to the beach to take the trail around the island to Melanie Cove. Everything was shiny, looking fresh from the two days of cleansing. Enough time had passed so that there were no heavy droplets to soak us as we progressed along the well-defined trail. There were a couple of sections with wind-fallen trees, causing us to duck and waddle or climb over. The trail was ours alone. Silence was broken by the swoosh of Pat’s quick dry pants or a frog croaking off in the distance. A small group of songbirds made their presence heard, momentarily. The ground, soft with the rain and years accumulation of fallen needles and leaves was welcoming to our legs that have been static over the duration of hibernation within the cabin. Arriving at the head of Melanie cove found a quiet beach with few boats moored in the inner cove. No one was venturing out – perhaps they were dubious of the clouds overhead. By the time we returned to our beach, half hour trip either way, the clouds managed to squeeze out a gentle sprinkle - nothing to saturate us as we returned to Liberté. As we pulled anchor to move down to Tenados Bay, we could watch the microclimates descending upon Roscoe Bay north, northwest of us. To the east the mountains were disappearing once again with the rain clouds we had accustomed ourselves to for the past couple of days. South was looking more promising.

The scenery throughout Desolation Sound is remarkable. The vertical granite rock walls are decorated with burnt sienna and ochre mosses, and conical evergreens pointing to heaven while arbutus trees conform to the tortuous wall. Many look like large bonsai trees. Their red trunks are void of the papery bark. From what I remember from reading about the area, glaciers carved out these high walls and yet there are areas that look as if they have risen out of the earth in folds; as in volcano and earthquakes over eons. Beaches for going ashore are few and far between. The low tide showcases oysters everywhere. The small number of seagulls we have seen, more often than not have their beak wrapped around a fresh mussel.

We are anchored in the middle of the NW corner of Tenados Bay. We can see through the small passage over to Three-Fathoms Bay and then across to the other side where the trail to Lake Unwen is. Voices and sounds of the other boats anchored nearby traveled easily last night. Perhaps the high rock walls have something to do with sounds echoing here. Yes, we have been spoiled by silence with so few boats sharing anchorage with us.
We allowed the morning to warm and prove to us that rain was not the highlight of the day before dropping into our kayaks for the long trip over to Lake Unwen side of the bay. We first headed west to explore where the seals were playing last evening. The channel between here and Three Fathom Cove was shallow for anchorage but a deep oyster bed covered the entirety. They were tempting to pluck a few for dinner, however we thought better of it. Seals followed behind, teasing me with an occasional jump up and back into the water. Masses of white “Moon” jelly fishes seen inside our corner were not seen out in the middle where the depth is 300-400+ feet deep. However once we approached the far shore they again appeared. Fascinating to watch as their bodies opened and closed to propel them through the water.

The short half mile hike to Lake Unwen was easy on a well traveled path. The woods were heavy with the smell of decay and moisture. Trees upright and those now playing the role of nurse logs were laden with dense layers of moss or sheets suspended from their branches. The trail had segments of cedar planks laid out to keep the hikers from the sticky ooze of rich mud. Reaching the lake came to an abrupt stop. There is a log jam with trees of various shapes and sizes at the end. We attempted to walk out on them to have a better look at the lake. One slip from me helped us decide that the damp logs were not the best thing for our shoes to negotiate. On the way up to the lake we could hear the sounds of waterfalls and went down a side path to find them. Picturesque falls cascading into small pools were our reward. I had fun playing with my camera for a few minutes before we headed back to the kayaks. At the beach we began talking to Gordon and Susie. They have been living on a boat for the past 15 years and seem to enjoy all the places they have explored from Alaska to Mexico. Just a short time after our return and a blissful shower they stopped by our boat with their small zodiac and offered us fresh oysters. What a treat! They picked them outside of Tenados where the water runs faster and clear. They should be great with our lamb tonight.

It is raining once more. Not heavy nevertheless it may be here for the duration of the night. With a good long paddle, a short stretch of the legs, feeling clean – knowing we have a good dinner waiting – life is good and we have nothing to complain about and much to enjoy and appreciate.

September 6, 2009 Laura Cove, 11:45 AM with a third pot of coffee in the making

2009-09-09T18:31:00.000-07:00

Rain is pouring out in those proverbial sheets outside our cabin. The surface of the water is alive with the large drops. Laura Cove exists currently in shades of deeper grey than the sky above. The clouds are muting the two steep hillsides thick with a dense forest of evergreens. The tide is ebbing so color is beginning to show along the grey granite rocks with shades of ochre kelp clinging to them. The Moody Blues have been playing for sometime creating a homey atmosphere. Liberté is solid no matter that she stands upon a fluid base of water.

We entered Laura Cove two days ago with the 6 knots at our aft. It was noted that everyone heading south from Desolation Sound, through Malaspina Strait, had on “hoodies” and foul weather gear. We were in shirtsleeves. Was this a sign of things to come? Only we would know after rounding Sarah Point.

At the northern end of Malaspina Strait, we were bearing down on a smaller sailboat. Her sails were up and by all appearances the young couple looked as if they were enjoying a very relaxed passage. Time was not an issue. Behind them a very large motor boat was approaching. Our decision to pass on the starboard side of the sailboat seemed the appropriate move. Just as we passed, “Zzzzing!” Oh dear, the man was fishing off the stern of the boat. As fate would have it, his line was off the starboard side. We were apologizing to the couple when up on their port side, with no consideration of slowing down, or pulling away, this most inconsiderate captain passed the sailboat with yards apart. Needless to say they were at the mercy of the wake for there was no time to respond. If I ever have the opportunity to let the captain of ADVENTURE from Seattle have an earful of not depending on autopilot as well as giving boats under sail power room, I would love to. As it will be, I did take a photo of the boat as she entered Melanie Cove yesterday afternoon around 5 PM. Definitely an Ugly American captain! He waves a huge American flag off his stern as big and brazen as this bloke! About a half hour after this incident, Pat told me to look beyond the stern and tell him what I saw. I thought a fish following along the surface, jumping a bit. No, it was a “diver” at the end of the line we snagged. I tried to catch the line with the boat hook with no luck. The power of the water coming from the stern was too strong. The throttle was lowered to a crawl and after several attempts, Pat snagged the line and I retrieved it with the hand over hand method. We did take a fair amount of line. Perhaps we will see the couple sometime soon and return to them what was abruptly snagged from them.

The anticipation of a homecoming, to Sarah Point, had excitement flowing in both Pat and myself. What was Desolation Sound prepared to offer us this year? The mountaintops were bare of snow. The sky was overcast with the large clouds proportional to the size of the country. With the exodus of southbound boats earlier, Malaspina Straits was empty. Once again, I took to the bow of Liberté, camera in hand to help capture that moment of awe as you open into Desolation Sound. I was not disappointed with this second entry. It will be fun to explore new fiords, islets, coves and when ashore, new trails.

Destination Laura Cove – Pat’s favorite of the two coves in Prideaux Haven was waiting. Pat offered to go in and peek at Melanie Cove. We could see only a few masts could be seen, and profiles of a handful of motorboats were in the first cove. No, I had been there last year. It was nice but I preferred moving on and getting established for the day in his favorite spot. Much to his surprise, there was one sailboat anchored at the end of the cove, near the shore. Never has he seen it empty. Within less than an hour of our anchoring out in the middle, towards the entrance, the single boat left. We were alone until a powerboat, a small hotel, arrived and anchored, blocking my view over to Melanie Cove. A couple other boats spent the night and were gone mid to late afternoon.

While Pat headed to what looked like shoal of rocks I went to looking for anything resembling an opening to him. For a neophyte navigating this region, caution is of the utmost advice. There are so many rocks just waiting to welcome an abrupt stopping point under the surface. It isn’t until low tide that many of these are apparent; or when we went kayaking yesterday afternoon once the sun broke free the clouds around 4 PM.

Today is a repeat of what the weather reports have been predicting; rain and more rain throughout the Labor Day weekend. Yesterday there were a few times gusts of wind had our boat spinning around but not significant or noteworthy. As I mentioned above, the clouds had wrung out all they had and the sun prompted them away. Everything was fresh, clean and sparkled. Where the sunbeams hit the water it danced as if diamonds were spilled out and electrified. Having sat patiently in the cabin all day, I wandered out to the cockpit mopping up small puddles of water. It was warm with the sun and the fresh air was welcoming. The rain-fly, twice the size it was last year is proving itself useful. Having solid poles at either end also helps with the height and dispersing the waterfalls of the deluge of rain these past couple of days. Pat emerged behind me and in no time we made the decision to lower the kayaks and paddle over to Melanie Cove. Our upper bodies came alive with the workout – it felt so good to explore within the inner passage. People began emerging from the protection of their cabins, few climbing into a tender to explore under the small engines or like us, in kayaks. We found ourselves looking skyward on occasion for there were ominous clouds remaining behind or above the mountains surrounding the Sound.

About the time we were heading back home, Intuition, was heading into Melanie Cove. Ron and Connie were here to anchor. We hailed them and after learning we were over at Laura Cove, turned around and moved over to anchor beside us. We paddled over and had an enjoyable visit as the day came to a close and we prepared our dinner.

Should the rain continue as they predict for the next couple of days, I shall be completing several projects. My Noro kimono sweater has one sleeve and the trim to be added. Pat’s sweater, has a way to go, but with some effort will be done before the trip is over. My project is so wondrous to work on. It is entertaining to watch the colors transform from blacks to greys to silver, browns, coppery gold to the slightest touch of butter yellow. The cut or style is simple and elegant. I am attempting to create in my head a pin to use to hold it close. Perhaps incorporate brass, copper and silver – this will have to wait until I return home.

September 3, 2009 Westview and “The Alchemist”

2009-09-03T11:42:00.000-07:00

Greetings from our favorite Westview. Jim Parsons is still managing this funky marina. There are no updates to the facilities and they make room for you at the time of your arrival. Many of us stop here to provision, wash those well worn clothes and enjoy a relaxed community setting before heading up to Desolation Sound. The Alchemist is a thriving restaurant this year.

Ron Hubbard, Intuition’s captain, his wife Connie and their friend Bud entered the marina a half hour after our arrival and were placed across from Liberté. We had first met them in Bedwell Harbor. At that time we had mentioned our intent on treating ourselves to a fine meal at the Alchemist. We must have made is sound enticing for that became their goal as well. Happily the five us walked up to the restaurant and had a delightful 2 and half hours of leisurely eating and lively conversation. The atmosphere in the dining room was energetic. Not the quiet setting we had last year. I do believe it is a well established favorite for the locals. Walking back to our boats was a wise thing to do for we all were very full. The night air was pleasant with the moon nearly full and very bright. They will be leaving this morning for Desolation Sound while I keep busy updating the website and complete the yacht club’s monthly edition and send it out. Then we shall keep our eyes peeled for them in Prideaux Haven.

Early this morning we were awakened with the wind and heavy rain simultaneously begin. For a short time they worked together in a frantic manner. It was delightful to be deep under the covers and listening to the rain beat on the deck above. This action taken by Mother Nature will save Pat time and energy to wash off the deck later today from the sea spray we acquired in crossing the Straits of Georgia. As I write now, the sky is heavy with clouds and the weather forecast is for heavy winds today. I am grateful I have a commitment to be onshore with my tasks! We have even toyed with the idea of going back and trying something different on the menu at the Alchemist. I’ll let you know.

September 1, 2009 A joyful happenstance then on to crossing the Straits of Georgia

2009-09-03T11:33:00.000-07:00

Nanaimo was a busy center of activity; always the boats cruising in and out, seaplanes taking off and landing with frequency and Sunday being a day for families to enjoy one last weekend before holidays are over and school doors open once again. We took an easy walk along the waterway with a great cold coffee treat. There has been a major addition since we were here last year, a long pier for walkers and fishermen alike. A very large play area for children and a sectioned off swimming area have been added- unless it was a weekday and the children were still in school, not having an adequate excuse to be there!Pat treated me to dinner just a pier away from our boat, Penny Palapas. It was getting cool so while waiting for our meal to be served, I hopped back to the boat to grab a sweater. On my way back, I was stopped by someone asking if I was ‘Sue?’. A wonder has it that it was Bill, (we met while staying at Pirates’ Cove last summer). He invited us to come over and visit them on Emma. Needless to say, Brenda and I had a marvelous time continuing our conversation from last year and filling in a year’s worth of living. She was putting her sewing machine away – yes she keeps herself occupied with sewing quilts while living onboard! (They live half the year on a 32 foot Nordic Tug.) Meanwhile Pat sat on the next level and was enticed with the Garmin version of navigational equipment! He’s happy with the Raymarine that was on our boat at the time of purchase, but still prefers Garmin. Then we all sat for a time and they demonstrated how easy, convenient and compact the Verizon wireless communication setup is! BBX, expect a call from us when we return. We have not been happy with the difficulties we are having connecting with family and friends via the internet. The phones are working much better which is wonderful for me, I love hearing my daughters’ voices and hearing what is going on with them.

Before 7 AM we were leaving the Nanaimo dock and heading out. From within the bay it looked as if there was a bit of fog hanging out in the Straits. The tide was in our favor so we made a left turn and exited down and out through Departure Bay. It was fun to pass by marinas, and various businesses related to the waterway.

Flying overhead seaplanes were leaving with regular frequency. Not having to work around the congestion of anchored boats, planes’ taxing about, ferries and other boats, Departure Bay was tranquil and scenic. The winds were 9+ knots so we believed we were going to have an easy passage across the Straits of Georgia.

I should have Pat tell his version and then follow it with mine! Not having a wide range of “mariner’s terms” under my belt I would describe the water as lively. Not robust by any means. It “felt” different to move through than the Puget Sound, even with strong 25 knots. There seemed to be more energy, more strength as the waves slapped Liberté from all directions. We motored for a short bit – until we passed a chain of rocks/shoals beyond Departure Bay. Then the sails went up and out. It did make for a smoother passage compared to motoring. The boat went into her groove, but at a more distinct 30+ angle heel and it was constant. After 45 minutes I finally told Pat that I had found my “pucker level” for tolerance. This was getting tiresome to be stretched out in the cockpit, legs extended, knees locked just to keep comfortable. Comfortable? Not at all! The sky above Nanaimo was blue with some fluffy white clouds. Across, on the other side where we were heading, the sky had an ominous appearance. The sun was breaking through, shooting rays that could almost deceive one and look like bursts of rain in places. Besides the rather foreboding appearance of our destination, there was not another boat on the horizon in all 360 degrees that I could see. It gave me a lonely sense of ‘being’ out there. I was not afraid, but the fact is I am a “Pollyanna” when it comes to sailing. I want a comfortable 15 degree heel at most and if I were to ask for my cake and icing too, 70⁰-75⁰, sunshine, but overcast is OK. Married to a sail racer, I have to learn to come to terms with his way of sailing. I am going to work on going into my own zone through meditation, sooner rather than later. A half hour before we made the turn towards Smuggler’s Cove a couple sailboats were seen in the distance heading south and one along the coastline. The short version is that we reached Welcome Passage in 2.5 hours; the shortest trip ever for Pat. He was thrilled with Liberté averaging 7+ knots and winds not exceeding 18 knots. He did reef thinking that would take a bit of heel out of the boat. Perhaps 2 degrees, but that was all! I do enjoy a gentle 15 degree heel but the rail in the water, spray breaking over the bow and coming all the way back to the Captain at the helm was not my form of vacation fun.

Welcome Passage was the best choice after crossing. I had not been to Smuggler’s Cove and the tides again were good for finding our way through the maze of twists and turns. There were a couple times Pat was moving Liberté forward and it left me puzzled; it did not appear to have a place deep or big enough for us. Prior knowledge is helpful when navigating through here. We did our first stern tie-up in the back cove.

With no dingy but just the kayak, the challenge to take the line ashore and scramble out of the kayak, without puncturing or flipping it was entertaining from the stern and safety of our big red boat. Yesterday was a virtual dead calm in here which made for a wonderful passage to paddle in the evening through every nook and cranny. Trust me, there were a couple places we tentatively worked our kayak over inches of water. We could have actually gone on to Secret Cove had I been a big-water explorer. It took us two hours just to explore this area.

This afternoon we wandered ashore and followed excellent groomed trails around the area. There are 400 acres in this park. There was one trail that took us in the direction that ended in a parking lot. To get there we passed a real wetland rich with vegetation, fireflies darted over the thick, soup-like water heavy with mosquitoes or a similar insect wiggling along the surface. Cattails were scattered about and nearing the end of their cycle. Tall trees ranged from alder, arbutus, pine, fir and cedar. Some of the trees were quite large, I doubt if they are old growth. There was old growth turned nurse trees cultivating a new forest on them. The parks department has built raised walkways throughout this section, some with many steps to provide four feet above the surface. After re-tracing our way back to the starting point, we went out another direction which led us to the entrance to Smuggler’s Cove. Along the way a discordant song permeated the air sharply. I was trying to convince myself it was a Great Blue Heron; however it sounded more like a Gibbons monkey. You know those little fellows who fill their jowls with air and creates sounds like we heard. Whatever it was, we did not see the creature. Our three hour hike was wonderful exercise for our bodies and a visual treat on top of that. It would be easy to say that Smuggler’s Cove is our new favorite place to come and spend time here.

Nanaimo - a warm summer's night

2009-08-30T22:53:00.000-07:00

and all is well. The moon is waxing - getting fuller and more beautiful every night. We are showered and winding down, preparing for an early morning departure to cross the Straits of Georgia. Pat just listened to the weather report and their prediction is for 3 knots of wind and calm seas. I was only half listening when the word 'robust' was uttered! Boy I wish I had been listening more closely. It is confusing sometimes to listen and know where they are talking about. I suppose if I was the one steering the boat, it would make more sense for I would know which end is up on the map!

The marina is quiet and still. If all goes well we will land in Westview and I will be going out to dinner at the Alchemist! Oh I do hope that they are still doing well and will tease my tastebuds and wow my sense of smell and sight. The marina is old and funky and I like it just that way. After my sense of something missing at Pirate's Cove, the special acquaintances we met that last year; genuine people that after meeting them leave you with the feeling of wanting to spend more time with - wholesome and genuinely enjoying the adventures given to them everyday and one another. And pleasantly surprising us, they are just over on the other dock tonight. We sat and got to get them better for about an hour. Bill and Brenda are the ones who live aboard their Emma, a 32' Nordic Tug. We nowhave exchanged calling cards and hopefully we will continue to stay in touch.

Pat did a great job, of timing our voyage through Dodds Narrow this afternoon. It was a real parade of vessels, large and small heading north. As I write this a mental picture of geese flying in formation comes to mind! Along one shore, happened to be with the sun shining on it, a home with a big wide porch was occupied with friends sitting comfortably in easy chairs, mugs of coffee in their hands. I imagine friendly talk flowing among them and then stopping to watch the caravan passing by. There was a couple sitting on a small blanket along the shoreline not too far from the home watching as if this was a planned activity for passing the time on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Were they there, dreaming of joining us, or waiting for an agressive - foolish captain to add to their list of "Did you hear about the time. . .?" I know I have gone to the Ballard locks- knowing that this was good inexpensive entertainment, guaranteed every time we went for something to take home; be it a lesson of what not to do or just laughing at others expense. I believe our yacht club has an acknowledgement for that, called the "Sinking Feeling" Award. I hope we don't ever receive that. . . but if you notice I did not say "never"?

August 30, 2009 Return to Pirate’s Cove

2009-08-30T21:10:00.000-07:00

We just climbed back on Liberté after a late morning paddle around the cove. It is already warm. The sun is high and the sky is a washed out blue. An occasional flutter whispers a refreshing breeze to remain comfortable. Pirate’s Cove is the same and yet different. The primary difference is the season; summer is completing its cycle of heat and lack of precipitation. Last year it was mid spring, leaving the air clean and purer and ALL the shades of new green. Another noticeable difference is the quality of the waters. Not only here but all the harbors and bays we have laid to rest each night. The water looks as if it were soup stock that has not had its final filter. This morning looking through the water, the eel grass even had a thick film of algae upon it. By the size of the jellyfish I am assuming that they are thriving well with their plate offered to them by nature. The final difference is the people. They are friendly from afar. There have been no long conversations from our kayak to their boat, or even on the docks that leads to a happy hour, allowing more depth of adventures.

It occurred to me that the voice of this blog has switched from George to me. It is interesting that to begin again, it was a struggle. Using George was a new fresh way to continue from where I had left off. While paddling around this morning it came to me that since I did not write yesterday, my head was talking to this story. It is my way of having a conversation with someone, sharing my perception of today’s experience. Yesterday I came across the notes I had jotted down while out with Pat on our first two week San Juan Island adventure. We enjoyed these incomplete notes – remembering my test trial out on the boat. Obviously I passed the test because Pat asked me to be his 1st mate three months later. George will tell his story in the form of a children’s book.

We are about to pull anchor and head out to Dodd’s Narrow, planning to arrive there about slack tide. Nanaimo will be where we’ll call home tonight after topping off the fuel tank. The plan is to head out by 7 AM across the Straits of Georgia and on to Westview. Today’s weather report indicates that Whiskey Pass is not active and the Straits are expecting to grant me safe passage.

August 27, 2009 Saltspring Island Marina

2009-08-27T21:39:00.000-07:00

Ganges is paradise to those enjoying splurge on more books, increasing a wardrobe, hardware for home and boat, Thrifty Foods, ice cream parlors art galleries and even a couple of shops directed to those knee high to their parents. To those who enjoy treasure hunting at thrift stores, I scored with a bag full of great deals. Pat picked up several new books and turned in five for $’s. Fresh silver salmon and snapper caught by local fishermen are sitting in the refrigerator along with Italian parsley and basil. A cook’s delight to work with!

Advice for those who have not ventured to Canadian Gulf Islands, based on our experience, will drop in to register at Bedwell, BC and then head straight up to Ganges. It is a wonderful place to stockpile in all ways physically as well as spiritually (for the artists and heavy readers).

Tomorrow we will head out to Pirate’s Cove or Montague Harbor. Both have great memories for Pat when he would come up here when his children were young. Pirate’s Cove is special to me for I had an epiphany or transition where I came to terms with cruising last year. Honestly, I could use that shot in the arm again! I struggle with just letting go of home and being the wanderer with less to do. Yes, even with all my projects I brought along. I will write more on this at a later date, under the heading “The Zen of Cruising”. Now it’s time to prepare the salmon for the barbeque and start cooking corn on the cob.

August 26, 2009 Bedwell Harbor Customs Office - Poets Cove Resort and Spa

2009-08-27T21:38:00.000-07:00

Entering into Canadians water and receiving a month of passage was less eventful than it was last year in Sidney, BC. It helped not to have wind causing havoc at the docks as well as hearing the questions at the phone on the dock with the immigration officer at the other end. Sue had been thorough to empty the pantry of all fresh vegetables and virtually all fresh food by the time of entering Canadian waters. We were excited to have a perky little village nestled right at the water’s edge to re-provision our home. This is a resort and spa and to our dismay, not a stopping point other than registering with the country. There is a very small bakery with limited goods, a wine and liquor store, and the resort and spa, no grocery store. The children were extremely happy with the freedom to swim in the pool while their parents dosed or read a book in lounge chairs while keeping one eye on them. This a perfect treat for the children, after spending days or weeks on the water, knowing full well that it was too cold to venture in.

We dined in the Pub on fresh salmon and edamame beans. Sue has recently read how great they were. We were disappointed and will use them in a soup, or not. However their color, a lovely bright green is refreshing to look upon.

Sue is terribly disappointed with the acquisition of the upgrade she bought from BBX. She feels like she got sold goods that don’t qualify for the recommendation. Perhaps we will have better luck in Ganges tomorrow filling the pantry.

August 25, 2009 Reid Harbor, Stuart Island

2009-08-27T21:37:00.000-07:00

The skip over to Stuart Island was non-eventful. The morning had begun with fog but by the time we left at noon, it had left except the blanket over in the direction coming from Garrison Bay. Reid Harbor is large which allows for many boats to anchor or as you move towards the State Park, buoys. Our Higher Power is watching over us- as we approached a buoy in a perfect location, a couple was just departing! I extended the new boat hook, held on tight and hooked the ring first try. We each did our own thing for an hour or so before paddling in to register and check out Prevost Harbor on the other side of the island. The original thought was to stay one night, however the serenity is so compelling, we are staying two. Pat continued with his reading while I fondled my new silver grey alpaca yarn purchased in Roche Harbor. It is so sensual to handle and it almost sparkles. The other silk, angora mix which is hand-dyed kept me busy pulling apart to separate out the colors and cut them. I have begun a small tapestry, perhaps to hang in the boat. We do have a couple bare walls that could hold something decorative, at least when it is my second home! It is not that I did not bring plenty of projects along with me, but the majorities are knitting projects. Something different is a good diversion and gives my fingers a break.

This afternoon we hiked up to the school house, the graveyard and Turn Point Lighthouse. It was a good chance to introduce George to the islands few highlights. Pat is enjoying sharing the spotlight with George when it comes to my photos. I get some curious looks from passer bys when George is with me. Many are curious enough to ask if it is a dog going for a kayak ride or walk. When I tell them that I’m going to write a children’s storybook about our journey their curiosity is quenched. Definitely off the norm, but it has given Pat and me many great opportunities to laugh! The sound of crickets can be heard out in the fields of tall, dry grass. Leaves shed prematurely due to lack of moisture crunch below our feet. The skunk cabbages are ravaged by something or time alone. Tired shades of green are everywhere. A few healthy cedars held onto their vibrant rich green as did a patch of grass in a small wetland. This is so different than last year’s trip when it was the middle of spring. It will be interesting to compare and contrast as we progress north. Tomorrow we will leave around 10 and head across the Straits of Juan de Fuca to enter at Bedwell, BC.

This summer with fuel less expensive, and prime vacation time, there are many more boats, sail and power, at all of our ports of call. It should change here in a couple weeks when the schools go back into session. Nevertheless, the children aren’t seen out on the trails. I’m not sure where they are. We did see quite a few swimming late in the afternoon, repeatedly jumping off their boats and quickly climbing back on and reaching for the towels.

All the hikes we have taken across, Jones, Blake, San Juan and now Stuart Island have been dusty and smell of summer; warm dust and grassy with a few teases of unseen blackberries. It has been difficult to enjoy the colorful wildflowers for they are all but spent for the season. I do hope that if indeed this is the end of summer, that there will be the colors of fall towards the end of the journey. Fall is my second favorite season following spring.

August 23, 2009 Tranquil Garrison Bay to Chaotic Symphony at Roche Harbor

2009-08-27T21:36:00.000-07:00

1 PM found us tied up to G19, dwarfed between 80 foot yachts. Seaplanes are docking perpendicular from our slip. It is amazing how much is going on and it works unbelievably well; a wedding occurring in the garden, passengers arriving or departing by seaplanes at a steady constant schedule, kayak rentals, boat and yachts moving in and out of the marina. Big scoops of ice cream on cones delicious on a warm summer day are enjoyed by everyone. Big breakfasts are served ‘til 11 and after that fish and chips at a small café at the end of the building housing the grocery store, showers, the post office and Laundromat. There is a constant ribbon of humanity weaving in and out of each doorway.

Families are here for a day or two to provision, cleanup and stretch their legs. Bikini-clad young women occupy many of the yachts, their skin deep shades of brown, manicured and looking good! Many walk or wiggle about their boat with glasses containing some fancy drink or champagne. The men on these boats, no matter the age seem to hold an air of authority, several wearing thick gold chains around their neck. They appear thoroughly enjoying the moment. There are several Ocean Alexanders sitting at the dock where we all pass. For a mere three million plus, you too can own one. Is anyone out there willing or rather able? I don’t know anyone. Perhaps if we collectively threw in our dollars, we might be able to offer a pittance. As I told Pat at dinner, recession does not appear to be taking a hold here at Roche Harbor.

Peace has now returned with one yacht leaving and the new passengers boarding the seaplane are at the other end of the dock. The full half of the glass is that looking out beyond the bow we have a look at Haro Strait. Perhaps after dinner we will observe another beautiful sunset. The day is perfect, t-shirts and shorts work well.

Dinner was good at the McMillan Restaurant overlooking the marina. We were doing our best to manage the last bites of apple pie a la mode when the flags were lowered with all the pomp and circumstance. Many of those in the restaurant exited in order to watch and hear it closer. It reminded me of the “Dirty Dancing” family camp nostalgia; rather hokey but yet the tradition had good intent.

August 21, 2009 English Camp- Garrison Bay, San Juan Island

2009-08-23T23:21:00.000-07:00

This day began with a layer of clouds, several looked heavy with potential of dropping rain upon our day. Alas the barometer continues to rise; a strong wind has been blowing most of the day, resulting here at 7 PM of skies predominately blue. Our Greek pizza is baking in the oven while Pat is working on his third paperback and the news is giving a look at the world from Canadian eyes and ears.

Serendipitously luck is again working for the creative Sue! The reader board at the top of the dock at Garrison Bay had an announcement that a Weaving Weekend was being held at English Camp Saturday and Sunday. With all the talk prior to leaving home regarding buying myself another loom and getting back into spinning I was delighted! Pat will have plenty of time to read while I’m ashore looking and talking to the people participating in this event.

The small pear orchard is prospering without a yearly pruning. Evidence provided with limbs heavy with fruit. There were a few families walking about, making the area seem all the larger. The formal garden has had continued care; Shasta daisies and Sweet William deadheaded. Two vibrant swaths of golden yellow edged with trimmed boxwood borders, Black-Eyed Susan and marigolds created a great focal point. There were a few purple cone flowers; singular blooms on tall stems visited by a busy bumblebee. The two three hundred-twenty something maple trees are majestically tall. Their branches are full with leaves and large clusters of ‘whirly-birds’ dancing, bouncing with the wind. If only they could share the stories of what or who passed or sat under their canopy a good story or two could be told.

The pizza was a success, with just a couple pieces left. Darn! I guess I will have to get creative and make something else for dinner tomorrow. Maybe a bowl of soup will work?

The wind has died down so the water is simply lapping against the hull. The clouds are beginning to turn their various shades of pinks and purples. It constantly impresses me how quiet it can be living on a boat, even with many boats anchored nearby. Popping my head out just now, the cool evening air has driven everyone into their cabins.

August 20, 2009-Greetings now from the south side of Jones Island!

2009-08-23T23:18:00.000-07:00

Pat and Sue were definitely in the vacationing mode this morning. Sue was futzing around the cabin after making breakfast in her pajamas. She had mentally noted that the beach was looking extremely close to her backdoor as she was preparing her housekeeping routine. About the same time Pat made his exit to the cockpit and quickly turned and turned on the navigation instruments. 1 foot below the keel- and another moment less! Details as to leaving NOW were passed between the two as to the sequence of releasing the lines from the buoy. The kayaks were tied to the stern. There did not seem to be time to hoist them up as the tide was continuing to exit for another 1.1 feet and the wind was blowing. We motored at a slower than normal pace so the kayaks would not flip- a bit of a challenge with wind pushing them one way and the waves splashing all about. Ah and remember there was no boat hook to latch on to a buoy. Sue wasn’t too worried, she had done it yesterday. Pat thought that this was her golden opportunity to give the “Happy Hooker” a try. Dang! The circumference of the ring was small – no tiny - there was no way that ‘hooker’ was going to work. The wind made it too difficult to maneuver the boat to the buoy so Sue hopped into her kayak and took a line to feed it easily and then handed it off to Pat. Sue is getting a real workout this year allowing her to use imagination to secure our floating home. Other than a few bumps, bruises and soggy pants today, she is no worse for wear and still in the game for their journey north.

The cabin is looking fresh, and Sue found time to complete my sweater. It matches hers and someday the one she is making Pat. It fits well. I promise to wear it as soon as the temperature drops. Right now the summer days have been just as they should be, warm. By the looks of the clouds converting from little white puffy spots in the sky to a continuous blanket of shades of grey the weather may be changing.

The hike around Jones Island was uneventful. The sun overhead washed out colors of the waterways surrounding the island. The trail was dry and dusty. All the plant life was looking parched- the grass fortunate to root itself under the canopy of larger trees held onto green. Blackberry vines, ferns, moss and lichen all were turning shades of sienna, ochre and looked as if they had begun losing their elasticity. Madrona trees were shedding large quantities of leaves that littered the paths across the island. No eagles perched high in the trees nor were seen soaring in the sky yesterday. We did see five playing in the drafts of wind as we sought shelter on the south side.

August 19, 2009 Well that was quite interesting!

2009-08-23T23:08:00.000-07:00

Now that things are calmed down, we are tied to a buoy on the south side of Jones Island. Sue has been a couple times with Pat and he had always chosen the North Bay. There is a lot of rocking and rolling with the passing of large power boats. It is not uncomfortable, just keeps us well aware that we are on water. So often Sue often forgets that she is living in her house boat and not onshore for Liberté is so comfortable and stable.

Our capturing the ring and tying up to had more action than yesterday’s adventure with Pat’s hat! Sue thought she had broken the Happy Hooker, so was sticking with known entity, the good old boat hook. She directed from the bow, guidance to keep the buoy close enough to the port that she could reach the ring with ease. Today’s approach must have come too quickly and the boat sped past the buoy. She moved deftly to mid-ship and did catch the ring. Pat instructed her to move forward. The pole was extended as far as it could. Her arms stretched out to as far as they could without leaning over the lifelines. Pat’s kayak, lying against the deck, portside prevented her from moving forward. Desperately trying to hold the pole without going over was impossible, even as tenacious as she is. The boat seemed to be going in the wrong direction and she was having an ill-fated tug of war with the buoy! Hold on she did. What seemed forever, she lost to her amazement; she was left holding onto the red rubber handle of the pole. She watched in frustration, as the sea consumed the pole, first slowly and then swallowed in one large gulp. It was lost to the depths. (This took place just a good stone throw away from Barry’s Rock.) Her thumb hurt. She wanted to figure out why and how this happened. Pat’s determination to get tied to that buoy had her focus on his objective to secure the boat. He instructed Sue to grab a free line, lie on her belly at the gate and direct him to the buoy, then reach down and thread the line through the ring. It did take three passes and with calm and resolve the adventure was over. Upon standing, walking the line up to the bow, securing to the boat, waves of confusion and discomfort overcame her. Feeling inadequate, and lacking prior knowledge to be useful all the while safe put her in a quiet mood. Her resolution is to always have one side of the boat free of obstruction so she can walk a buoy forward should she have to capture it mid-ship again!

I think that we are all calmer, the frozen water bottle has taken the swelling down from her thumb and the boat seems settled into our new neighborhood. We will now drop the kayaks and hike about the island. Sue is excited to point out eagles to me. Last year this seemed to the best habitat for the largest population she happened across in nine weeks.

August 18, 2009 6 PM

2009-08-23T22:58:00.000-07:00

Pat & Sue let loose of the mooring lines about 10:30 from Anacortes marina this morning: refreshed from a good shower, two pots of French pressed coffee and a solid breakfast. That should have anyone wired to go. The day promised to be on the warm side - Sue did not start out with as many layers as she has the past couple of days. Shortly after getting out of the marina the wind was clocking up to 12 knots. Good for sailing but we needed to charge the batteries since we did not hook up to shore power last night. By the time we could the wind had died down. The current was going in our choice of directions, Obstruction Pass. Sue has not seen this route and the object of our journey this year is to go down different paths from the routine Pat has traveled over the course of time. Mutual consent was not to drop anchor in the usual spots. They want to try out new moorings, which will lead to new adventures.

Wow! I got a real thrill this morning. The wind picked up to 14 knots and within a very short discussion, the main sail was up, the jib was out. Hold on I did! We were flying across the water between 7.5 to 8 knots. This was short lived and the wind shifted and dropped to nil. The conversation was how easy all this was for just a 10 minute thrill. Sue did not grumble but quickly released cleats, pulled car for jib control. She handles all the sails while Pat stands at the helm, not having to say a word but keep Liberté s nose into the wind while the sail works its way up the track.

With Spencer’s Spit off the list, we considered Deer Harbor, Orcas Island. As we followed the ferry, it slowly turning into Shaw Island, we saw a bay. As we rounded the corner, we headed between Blind and Shaw Islands. Blind Bay opened up into a big pictorial bay. There were three buoys off Blind Island, two vacant. We made a bee line, carefully watching for hidden rocks and shallow water. Sue skillfully with great finesse caught the ring in one pass. Pat came forward to run the line through the ring and instantly bumped his hat against the shroud and his hat went overboard. Heck with the buoy! The hat was more important. Pat deftly snagged the hat with the boat hook and swung far and wide to drop it onto the deck. Ooops, too much energy exerted, it flew off the port side of the boat and into the water again! Retrieved once again we returned to starting over to tie up for the night. The location is appealing and tranquil. To west we see the Orcas Island ferry terminal, and starboard Shaw Island ferry terminal. Ferries run about every 30 minutes, the last one was around 10:30. The wake enters the bay and gives the boats a minute of rocking and rolling.

I went out on Sue’s kayak for my first time. She carefully secured me on the deck, positioning me so I could see her and where we had come from. The sun beat down on us and I could have gotten overheated. Sue’s paddling has a way of keeping me cool- with every left stroke; the water runs down from the right. My feet and hands are still damp 12 hours later. I won’t complain. She might not take me out again. We paddled over to Blind Island to register for the night’s stay, a total of 20 strokes. There is a group of teens on a kayak adventure over on the east side of the island, one young lady swimming – squeals of how cold it is and all the while laughing at the joy and freedom of what she was doing.

We then climbed back into the kayaks and headed toward the ferry terminal. Sue idled on the other side of the ferry dock, commenting to me that she had never been so close to a ferry. Pat called out that this was not a wise choice. (Something to do with ‘backwash”.) I am so grateful that she listened and responded immediately and moved over to the shore some distance away! You should have seen the water churning, making big waves and a chaotic motion with the boats tied to the dock adjacent to the terminal! As the cars began boarding the ferry, we quickly exited our corner and began the clockwise exploration of the bay. The highlight was watching a pair of Great Blue Herons valiantly attempting to distract Pat & Sue from their nest high in a tree rooted along the shoreline. Sue sat patiently for some time hoping to catch a glimpse of the chicks. No luck for the nest was deep within the boughs.

The evening was warm and we sat out in the cockpit until the sun met the horizon. It created a beautiful peace and colors to quiet the soul. Sue tried to capture the feeling with lots of photos. The sun illuminating the back sail of Adventuress as she entered the bay to drop anchor for the night was picture perfect. The only negative for this moorage was the number of small flies that were determined to annoy. Sue remained calm, telling me that she was pretending to be in the Congo where this is a normal occurrence. Pat took refuge in the cabin where the flies chose not to explorer.

Preface, August 18, 2009

2009-08-23T22:51:00.000-07:00

Liberté is once again our home away from home. I’ve had many starts to this first entry into Liberté Chatterbox blog. Remember how I felt lost while at sea, not having the ability to quantify the list of accomplishments for the day? I wrote several times about transitioning and to this day my evolving however learning to let go is getting easier; the old familiar Sue to the new woman more open to living by the cliché, “home is where the heart is”. Balance is the key and as long as I have room and time to be creative I will be well. Funny as it may sound, last summer once I was on shore, my home, my garden, felt like strangers to me. I was out of sync. I would start in one direction and stop and start in another. I was very aware of this phenomenon. It felt odd.

By springtime deep into projects a balance was struck. I don’t remember much of it and lo-behold summer came and gardening filled what little empty time remained each day. The yard had its last serious grooming session days before we left. It will hardly notice that I am away. October seems distant. However I know that this rhythmic time will pass quickly. Allowing the ebb and tide of every day will help accept the daily gifts this opportunity of a cruising life with Pat and George will offer. Who is foolish enough to pass up adventures on the waterways of the Northwest?

I am sitting here, with George snuggled up under our Huskies’ Gold comforter, Sting is singing softly – filling the cabin with his almost haunting voice, the cymbals softly ringing, a harmonica sounds remind me of a train off in the distance. . . I have had troubles starting this year’s journal. My attempts to analyze this fact lead me to the conclusion: that this is a sequel. How often have I picked up a book written by a prodigious author, or watched a movie that followed a real gem only to be disappointed? I mentioned George. I’ll introduce you to him in just a moment, but have decided after a conversation with Pat, that this will be told through fresh eyes. George. His place of origin would be the Congo! He is Starbuck’s 1st of their Wildlife Edition, a Mangebay Monkey. Pat brought him home about a month ago and has taken on quite a life of his own!

Approaching the departure day had a completely different flavor than last year. The mystery of the unknown; the experience of living nine weeks away from home and garden had been dispelled. The only mystery and one we cannot control other than using good judgment, is Mother Nature with her whims – wispy summer skies to dramatic sudden tantrums with thunder, lightning and winds.

Coffee is now just at a temperature that we can safely drink, to savor the rich dark flavor that we seem to be quite addicted to! I wanted to make certain that we would have ground coffee for the entire trip. I remember last year that this was one provision that was difficult to locate on the store shelves, the further north we went. I brought 10# ready for our French Press- three decaf for that last treat in the evening with a good book and the remaining 7 to use throughout the day.) Yesterday I made three pots during our 10 hours on the water- The third pot was one too many for me – it seemed wasteful to pour it down the sink.

This may be my last entry before returning to my home’s office

2008-07-29T00:17:00.000-07:00

July 28, 2008
And I don’t know what words will surface once I am grounded on ‘terra firma’. Will the leisure, the sense of wonder and learning to “just be content” continue? Or will the old Sue resurface with the urge to produce tangible goals accomplished by days end return immediately? Only time will tell. This has been a great adventure for both Pat and I. He has always wanted to cruise for two continuous months and feels content with what we did accomplish with our new boat and that I am ready to do it again next year, for two months and lots of smaller cruises in between. The people and their stories we’ve met along the way are the highlights for me. Next would be the magic of each mooring, stop along the way, some more than others. Mother Nature has been very good to us and I could not ever underplay the role she had in making this a successful journey.

This morning after spending four leisurely days at Garrison Bay, our thought was to stop at Spencer’s Spit on Lopez Island. Good fortune of current pushing, and Rosario Strait calm we unanimously chose to continue on. Looking over to the west, the Straits of Juan de Fuca was socked in with fog confirmed our other choice to pursue the slow trek down the Swinomish Channel. The weather and current was on our side, yet the air has had a ‘nip’ to it. (My 1st homemade sweater has been worn almost constantly since I completed it last week due to the temperature change.) Our final destination was Oak Harbor Marina on Whidbey Island which we reached by 8 pm tonight.

I hope to conclude my thoughts on our last four days once we get home. Depending on how the minus tide affects the shallow bay just outside the marina, will determine how soon and how far we travel tomorrow. If we feel like another day of just heading south, closer to home, we may end up at Blake Island until Friday. Or, if a shorter stint is more appropriate, it will be Edmonds or Kingston. Flexibility; working with tides, currents and weather all keep the Captain alert and the ‘Best Mate’ is willing to go with the flow, as long as she has the light at the end – home – in sight!

July 25, 2008, – Garrison Bay, San Juan Island

Thanks to taking time to read “Waggoner Cruising Guide” I happened to read about Garrison Bay, literally minutes away from Roche Harbor. It is a nugget of an anchorage; large bay with good mud for anchoring, lots of directions to go for kayaking and the option of rowing to shore; arriving to English Camp historical park. This is a wonderful place to explore paths, simple hikes to whittle away the hours away from the boat; stretching out legs and talking to very interesting people, all of who have a story to tell. Or, as it turned out, cross paths with fellow TTPYC members, Tom & Nita Sitterley. We had a great time sharing our cruising similarities and just getting to know one another.

After setting anchor and letting it sit to secure its self, Pat rowed us to shore. We spent several hours walking; exploring English Camp, a small historical site that is fairly well maintained. There is a large field of freshly mowed grass where the soldiers once practiced their drills. Facing Garrison Bay a couple buildings, with fresh coats of white paint, stand firm. A simple museum with old photos, reference books to purchase and a short informative documentary is available to anyone interested to sit and watch. We took a walk to the camp’s cemetery that is left unattended; five headstones stand with notations about the soldiers who died while serving here, guarded by a white picket fence and a single maple tree. After taking the effort to get there and then thinking about the hike to the mausoleum at Roche Harbor, my thoughts of “why do people want to be buried?” crossed my mind once again. I realize that these remnants have been here for a long time, but the lack of interest and preservation indicate to my best estimation that there is not enough sentimentality to warrant this use of land.

The formal garden is still attended to after all these years. The boxwood hedge around the sections look weary, but still stand trimmed and protective of their assigned flowers; geraniums, foxglove, black-eyed Susan, lavender and heather, coreopsis, and cosmos. Hundreds of bees were diligent - single-minded with their work at hand, collecting nectar for their winter’s supply of food. I may not be home working in my garden this summer yet surprisingly enough it has not made me sad or anxious to walk through the gardens of others. I have found satisfaction vicariously and enjoyed taking many photos.

Stepping back into history was easy with the help of a congenial troupe of historians set up camp. They were dressed and portrayed actual people that lived on these grounds when English Camp was active, 1859-1872. It was easy to visualize the lives of the children, the women and men because all details of daily life were in place; canvas tents, boxes holding their possessions, muskets, large enameled blue coffee pots sat nestled in the hot coals of the cooking fire, trestle tables with large jars of fresh pickles open – a sure invitation to “take one”, large wheels of cheese, and another jar of hard boiled eggs, and fresh loaves of bread. Tins of Twinning’s English tea set beside fine porcelain tea pots set on butler tables at many of the tents, indicating their traditional afternoon quite time. Uniforms for both the American and English solider were reproduced with painstaking detail. Admiral Baynes was definitely our favorite character.

Back in the USA

2008-07-24T08:11:00.000-07:00

July 24, 2008 Roche Harbor, San Juan Island

Yesterday’s jaunt from Sidney Island to Roche Harbor was exciting for me, especially after having a night of winds howling all night. When the tide is in and the wind blows the spit offers little protection. I did not fear for safety, I simply can’t sleep when the wind is howling around the shrouds, sheets and halyards and the waves are beating against the boat. Prior to that I had “cabin-fever” or having the feeling of not being able to leave the boat and walk the beach because the waves and current are such that your tender is not adequate to take you to shore. It made for a long twenty-four hours for me. Haro Strait pushed us along with its current running in our favor and the wind was less than 6 knots. An overcast sky, something that has become foreign to us, sharpened the colors of the islands that we passed or saw in the distance. It has been five weeks since we entered Canadian waters. The spring greens have transformed to summer’s dry golden browns during our passage north everywhere we look. Even the evergreen trees have lost their verdant intensity. The air is beginning to have the ‘nip’ of fall in the early morning and again in evening even with the daytime temperatures warm. We aren’t sure if it actually was warmer further north, or if the summer season is past her prime. No matter what though, it is good to be back to the USA!

Our adventure still has ten more days, with opportunities for many more memories so I won’t say the trip is over. Yet in honesty, I am very excited to know that home is closer, rather than further away. Going through Customs, here in Roche Harbor, was a pleasant experience. Pat has tried various ports for re-entry and is now convinced that this is the best. The docks are good and quiet compared to Friday Harbor, the important amenities for cruisers are easily accessible for provisioning as well as independent local artists have created a walkway of their diverse quality products. There are cafes, and restaurants, a swimming pool, tennis and walks to historical landmarks, offering something for every interest and age.

Later on this morning we are going to move over to Garrison Bay, really just around the corner. Waggoner’s says that it offers plenty of good anchorage and we can access English Camp’s historical grounds. The thought is to move over to Spencer’s Spit on Sunday. Monday we will spend a long day going down the Swinomish Channel. Pat has read the “Ports and Passes” several times, every time it looks as if we would be going against the Straits of Juan de Fuca currents which makes for a longer and harder passage. My Captain has kept us safe and planned well up to this point so I know the remaining journey will go well. The only variable is Mother Nature and he always takes that into consideration when making timelines.

July 21, 2008 Sidney Spit, Sidney Island –

“Careful what you wish for.” I did write the other day that it was high time that we should sail. Guess what? Yesterday provided us that option shortly after leaving Cowichan Bay. The wind was a blowing a steady 10-11 knots just off our nose. We can’t say enough about the ease of hoisting the mainsail with the push of the buttons! Pat at the helm points the bow just right while I raise the mainsail, stretching my neck so I can watch the sail – I have gotten it down to a science when to stop, eliminating a batten hanging up in a lazy-jack. Next I pulled out the jib from the roller furling, without breaking a sweat. Liberte’ was like a racehorse that heard the bell and the gate released! A clip of 6-7+ knots was clocked on the knotmeter in short order. She all but guided herself into the groove while Pat was grinning from ear to ear! I on the other hand was chanting the mantra we learned in ‘Cruise & Learn’, “If in doubt, let it out!” It seems like it has been forever since I had been sailing in such a manner, and honestly, I was not feeling comfortable as the rail neared the water. With the boat heeling so quickly, the loose items that I hadn’t secured for these conditions required attention in the cabin. The boat had a healthy heel which makes for an interesting descent to the cabin; the body must re-think what standing upright is and resorts to strange body angles to compensate for staying on one’s feet. After a half hour of this constant angle, I gathered a little courage and asked Pat if he could flatten her out – just a little; knowing full well that this is a conflict of a committed racer versus a neophyte cruiser. I watched Pat’s eyes on the main as he probably was thinking to himself-‘what can I do to maximize her potential for speed?’ I could feel his hands twitching in resistance as he changed the point, and adjusted the traveler to keep his ‘best mate’, ‘the Admiral’ as he calls, me comfortable. I appreciate this and really wish that the safe feeling was innate, natural and not something I must acquire over lots of time on the water. Pat set her course and Liberte’ tracked to it, requiring only an occasional touch of the wheel for a minor adjustment or avoid one of the many crab pots that are out and about all the waterways we have traveled since returning to the Gulf Islands. The last hour, the wind dropped down to 5-8 knots. Liberte’ instinct to race with the wind, allowed her hull speed to match the speed of the wind, minus one knot or less. Pat just grinned and shook his head with pleasure. All in all it was delightful passage to Sidney Spit on Sidney Island. Time was not an issue for today’s journey, making the time for multiple tacks to windward enjoyable. Perfection for me would have been to have the wind conditions in reverse; it would have allowed my sea legs to adapt gradually.

Arriving to Sidney Spit on a Sunday afternoon, at low tide was memorable. The number of boats at anchor, beached or powering around, the crowds of people playing or relaxing on the sandy beach, then looking over your shoulder the Sidney’s skyline was just on the other side of the channel. We could have been pulling into Alki Beach in West Seattle! It was mayhem and we were not impressed. The most annoying were the power boats that reminded me of limited hydroplanes. They roared onto the beach, replaced passengers with new ones and took another run through the bay and out into Sidney Channel. By 8 PM, the majority of boats on the western shoreline left, emptying the shore and allowing peace to return to Sidney Spit. At 10 PM the waning full moon shone bright thus the stars had to wait to steal the scene in the early hours of morning. In the horizon the dark hills of Sidney were outlined with a gradient of glowing orange to pink to evening shades of deep blue/black.

Low tide is the element that makes Sidney Spit a destination. Without it there would be no the long-drawn-out out “C” sandy beach. The dock that receives small ferries from Sidney would remain empty, except for those who wished to walk the small forest, or camp at the far end. It is the beach that is the focal point and there is plenty to explore on the northeast and northwest side. There are a few sections where dunes are held by swaying tall green grasses and small shrubs. An unending supply of bleached driftwood, stretching most of the length of the spit, challenges budding architects; the results are a wide variety of forts, windbreaks and huts above the high tide line. Each architect augmenting the previous addition or starts anew. This is a great beach for spending an entire day for young and old. Sand castles, running about unhindered with the concern of sharp objects, natural or manmade, and there were sections of beach rock for added diversity. The eastern side of the spit is similar with the exception of vast beds of kelp drying in the sun and filling the air with its distinctive pungent smell. A variety of shorebirds occupied this beach more than people; a flock of seagulls were seen napping, head tucked under a wing in the sticky mudflats while a lone sandpiper, chirped as if lost, running in and out of the grasses. A bald eagle sat watchful upon a rock shoal beyond the breaking water line as few boats pass in Satellite Channel.

Besides offering an expansive beach to stretch ones legs after a day of boating, the woodland walk offers a different setting. It appeared to me that this small forest had as much growing as it did varying degrees of decomposition. Perhaps a combination of shallow soil, lack of summer rain and strong winds that allows survival of the fittest. A lagoon, now restricted to all, is a bird sanctuary. It is quiet with a beautiful serene setting. We saw an eagle standing in the shallow water searching for food while Great Blue Herons took their statue like stance on the opposite shore. Sidney Island is a nice place to have visited but I’m not sure that it will call me back again soon. With a momentary grounding, as we searched for ‘our spot’ we learned that there is a high ridge in the middle of the bay and should we return, the best entrance is to come in from the northwest corner and go down the middle of the line of buoys.

Cowichan Bay: To those who enjoy smaller towns for places to provision or just stop, we recommend Fishermen’s Wharf Marina at Cowichan Bay. The town offers a bakery that taunts and teases anyone walking by with their ongoing loaves of bread that are pulled from the oven, which seem to leave the store more often than not, still warm. A couple doors down from there you are drawn into the Hilary’s Fresh Cheese Store. We walked in and immediately the pungent smell of garlic roasting had our mouths watering, salivating. The garlic soup was the soup of the day tomorrow. One of the most memorable moments in Cowichan Bay was when we walked through the Dutch door of Arthur Vickers’ Shipyard Gallery. Never have I seen art of this caliber nor his technique. Arthur was present and walked us through the gallery, he explained the story of the print and then by adjusting the lighting, his images transformed in color and/or added hidden images surfacing! There is a good chance that once we are home, we may give him a call and purchase one of our favorite serigraph print to celebrate our birthdays, Christmas and whatever other holidays are left in the year and remember the first of many cruises together.

Our bus trip to Duncan took about 30 minutes and we thought this beat walking! We got off in the heart of Duncan at 1 PM; the festivities were in full swing. Merchants were having sidewalk sales, children were waiting patiently, some unsure while others were very animated with excitement to have an artistic young woman paint their faces, transforming them into beautiful butterflies, flowers, or replicating the red tulips of an embroidered sundress one little girl was wearing onto her face. We did not see the Farmer’s Market, we may have missed that, but there was something for everyone taking the time to be out and about in Duncan. We left the downtown area and recruited Pat’s memory to locate the Native American Museum he and his friend Bob had visited 10 years ago. It was closed. Retracing our tracks back to town, we did find a sign directing us to the International Pow Wow. We are pleased that we did and walked the dusty path to the field where it was taking place. Being an international gathering it wasn’t as large a turn out as I had thought it would be. There were an equal number of participants and their family’s members as there were guests. We had a great time; this was my third time observing and Pat’s first. The ceremonial dress from the different First Nation people were quite diverse; old traditional buckskin, quill beadwork, appliqué similar to button blankets, Cowichan style sweaters, and modern adaptations representative of their traditional clothing. I only wish that rather than numbers pinned to the contestants, their Nation was stated.

We sat on the grass for several hours as men competed for the title of “Iron Man”. It began with a circle of eleven men. Our favorite, and we believe the crowd’s also, was the eldest. He looked proud, wise and definitely intent on receiving the title. His competitors were men one third to half his age. Live ‘bands’ from three different tribes played songs. To Pat & I, they sounded the same, with very little differences. The dancers knew the nuances, thus they would begin as if they were asking their Higher Power for support prior to hunting or simply variations to what I believe they call the “Two Step”. The twenty third song was half way through when we gave up; we did not have the perseverance to wait it out. We just hope the elder won or our second choice, the man, half his age; he appeared to have more purpose with his execution throughout the performance than the others. I am glad we were not the judges.

Perfection Continued

2008-07-19T08:40:00.000-07:00

July 18, 2008 Cowichan, BC

Well, almost! I am beginning to see the difference between cruising and simply sailing for the joy of sailing. Two months ago, if asked honestly which I felt more comfortable and/or preferred, I would have said motoring – sailing if the wind was around 10-15 knots. Now I am finding that with cruising to reach a destination and taking into consideration all factors: passing rapids, using slack currents to one’s advantage, opposing tides puts time constraints on the sailor. Motoring or motor sailing is the mode we most often use. Yesterday we had one of those spectacular mornings when there was a light wind varying 10-12 knots, and I really wanted to sail. The water transformed itself to Eisenberg Ice rhinestones with flecks of cerulean blue. It was so vibrant, so glorious and I wanted to savor the moment! Two months has given me a chance to learn the basic sailing fundamentals and gain confidence in myself. The Doyle Stackpack along with the powered main winch enables easy deployment of the main and letting it down. The phenomenal number of halyards and sheets I’ve learned to ignore, they are for racing. Today I wanted so badly not to rush but to “play” with the wind and simply sail for sailing’s sake!
We were happy leaving Silva Bay Marina where we had felt captive due to strong winds and tight moorage that kept us at the dock an extra day. Should we need to stop in the vicinity in the future, we definitely will go on to Page’s Marina for a night.

While on watch for obstacles after leaving Gabriola Passage, I noted two crab pots off the starboard side at 1 o‘clock. About 100 yards beyond us, the sailboat that left the dock minutes before us did not notice these crab pots, and went right over one snarling the crab pot’s line into the prop. Perhaps it was due to having the jib up, creating a blind spot. Or, maybe the sparkling effect of the sun on the water hid the danger. Either way, the damage was done. We stopped to offer assistance as they were lowering their dinghy off the bow. The pot’s buoy was snug against the portside stern. They were hoping that simply cutting the crab pot line would allow the propeller to free itself of the line and said for us to continue on. What a sinking feeling that must be, not knowing how compromised the use of the engine is. They were fortunate that it was not within a narrow passage, or home to rocky shoals or rapids, but an open expanse of water near Pirate’s Cove. Yesterday’s lesson at another’s expense gave value to looking harder at the surface of the water, questioning everything in the waves.

We arrived at Chemainus, BC and were offered help docking by Harmon Bootsma, the marina’s manager. He is well-spoken of in Waggoner’s Cruising Guide. He was no longer sporting a straw hat that he was renowned to wear. Similar to the affect sun has on mainsails; too many seasons of summer’s sun may have caused it to deteriorate. He cheerfully gave us tips of places to go, things to do and being a racer, enjoyed talking to Pat about the racing attributes of Liberte’. The concrete docks are new, and decently spaced. The heavy docks prevented wash from the nearby ferry’s activity from rocking the boats within the marina. The washrooms are clean and secure. The smell of freshly cut lumber hung in the air in a most pleasant way as we walked about the town. A large lumber yard is adjacent to the marina. Many a skipper might be hesitant to use the marina, when they see the large log booms beyond the breakwater; fearing the hassle of fighting a maze of obstacles. This was not evident during our stay. This marina will be used on our next trip north.

We had fun looking for the world famous murals painted on the majority of buildings; by just following the yellow footsteps that meander through the town. Old bicycles were recycled and incorporated in a couple of the scenes most effectively. Horse drawn carts and buggies were available for tourists to clip-clop their way around the town to see the same paintings, only they were told the stories and history of Chemainus.

It did not take us long to discover a perfect hangout -a used bookstore and coffee shop! Here the woman behind the counter offered us insight to the local live theater, Chemainus Theater Festival. With her directions we found the theater at the other end of town, bypassing many ice cream parlors, a few more coffee shops, bakeries, shops and restaurants that had offerings for the locals as well as tourists. We bought tickets for the 8 PM performance, the story of Joan of Arc, “Saint Joan”, by George Bernard Shaw was the performance for the evening. The presentation was done in a contemporary format; simple costumes to depict the era, minimal props and the use of lighting to represent location (i.e. inside a church) or an action, (burning at the stake). The rest was left to the actors and actress to draw the audience into the story. They did just that. We will return to Chemainus whenever we take a cruise north so we can attend another performance.

This morning the water’s appearance was darker and the wind felt cooler as we continued our journey southbound to Cowichan Bay. Looking back at one point, dark clouds dropped down over the higher hills of Vancouver Island giving the perception that rain could be eminent, for them. Salt Spring Island, on our portside, had a few big white clouds with a bright blue sky. Pat’s plan was to hit the Sansum Narrows at slack current. He remembers going through with the water running 4-5 knots many years ago. He said he felt like he was going downhill. To complicate this, fishermen dangling their lines gave an added dimension of excitement. His planning paid off and we just had about 1 knot working against us; .5 due to wind on our nose and .5 due to the current. Once around Separation Point, we traversed Cowichan Bay to Fisherman’s Wharf Marina. Liberte’ looks like a princess among the well used fishing vessels. They are in the process of re-doing and adding to the marina yet they offer all the amenities, laundry, showers electrical and water. All they are clean and it is quiet.

We took a leisurely walk along the main street that follows the shoreline. Whenever you can look between buildings your line of sight is filled with other marinas. It is hard to determine where one ends and the next begins. Boats of every description are worked tightly together. We have talked about it and figured that it takes quite a bit of planning and many skippers to move a boat out in most instances. It is like a puzzle similar to a rubrics cube. Rather than matching colors you have to avoid extending anchors, protruding struts and poles, tenders attached loosely all add dimension to re-positioning. It will take a third party to help us leave in a couple of days, but we will work that problem at that time. Tomorrow we are planning on taking a local bus to the town of Duncan.

Talking to the locals; it took half a dozen, to plan where to catch the bus and get a time schedule. I went online and learned that Duncan is hosting Khowutzun Warmland Inter-tribal Pow Wow, a Bluegrass Festival, Free vineyard tours and tastings, a farmers’ market, and an art show. Besides all these offerings we were heading over there to look at the totem poles that are placed throughout the town. I do believe we will be busy exploring inland tomorrow. If you don’t hear from me within a week, you know that I got lost! That shouldn’t happen because I have my Captain with me and he is great with navigating.

Recommendations

2008-07-16T21:22:00.000-07:00

July 16, 2008
Crossing the Straits of Georgia yesterday morning with ‘Nirvana’ close by was OK. Who would complain with heaven by their side? . We left Secret Cove by 7 AM with our new friends from Port Townsend, Shelley and Gaylon, ‘Nirvana’s’ skippers. The water was not bad until we had gone about one quarter of the way. Then it was “lumpy” as the sailors described it on the other side. While on watch, knowing we weren’t alone in that big stretch of water was consoling. Once you are in the middle, you are committed and you have just got to get through it. Boat traffic was light southbound. There were several boats on the east side heading north. They had the wind on their nose while we had it at our back. We were able enjoy a nice sail for two of the four hours it took to reach our destination, Silva Bay on Gabriola Island. It has changed a lot since my stop here last June with my Cruise and Learn adventure and not necessarily for the better.
The best part of the stay was having good company. We knew the skippers of four boats, one of which are members of our yacht club, Buzz and Tish of ‘Prime Meridian’. I love Pat’s company, nevertheless, having the opportunity to share dinnertime with two couples at the café at the top of the dock was wonderful. Swapping stories of anchoring, favorite places to go and a view overlooking Silva Bay will be remembered warmheartedly.

The wind was blowing around 20 mph this morning and we opted to remain at the dock. Everyone else was heading for Telegraph Harbor. I think their goal was to test a banana split that Lee talked about last night; so large that it is more than two can manage! We are going to head over to Chemainus Bay tomorrow. It sounds like there are lots of interesting shops with exterior walls painted with murals and places to tease the sweet tooth .The best feature- good grocery store at the top of the ramp; looking at limp fruits, vegetables, and frozen meat has discouraged my desire to stockpile my pantry. I appreciate the dilemma store owners have in keeping fresh inventory while working with weekly deliveries. It makes one appreciate how spoiled and demanding ‘city slickers’ are when we return to more rustic settings. I do value the efficient refrigerator/freeze and the storage within Liberte’. Next year will be easier with what I have learned this year.

As for recommendations: Pat and I went for a walk after our friends left and checked out the other moorage available at Page’s Marina in Silva Bay. This is where we will stop next year. It is clean, quiet and smaller, our preference. Their laundry and shower facilities are much cleaner and they offer a nice bookstore featuring local authors from the islands. There is a large field of grass, picnic tables and set back from the marina there are cabins to rent. The facilities here at Silva Bay are soiled compared to the standards of what we have used throughout our trip. The employees are less friendly than any other marina; this place would be at the bottom of our rating.

Well it is time to go stretch our legs again and walk over in the other direction and sample another flavor of ice cream on a cone. Life is good, especially when one has a companion that offers me the best opportunities to experience and share things we both appreciate.

Addendum - Not mentioned, but not forgotten

2008-07-14T19:40:00.000-07:00

In my last entry I did not make reference to the joy we had in having Buzz and Tish Greenman, with their friend Lee “stop by” for a visit. They are members of Three Tree Point Yacht Club and it was a pleasant surprise to know fellow cruisers from home. We had hoped to drop in on 'Prime Meridian' after our hike to Von Donolop Inlet. As I mentioned earlier, the hike was more challenging and took longer than we wanted to reach the other side. Being more aware of our bodies disdain towards heat, we heeded the message sent to us. We returned to Liberte' to cool down, and then clean up, planning on rowing over to their boats.

Accidents; they are unplanned occurrences that impede on previous well thought out plans.
Pat slipped and fell down the stairs to the floor of the cabin. He had wet feet due to me having doused the cockpit down after cleaning the shrimp. He did knock the wind out of himself and now is artistically decorated with colors of the rainbow. Thankfully he broke no bones or ribs and is just aching from the fall. Recovery was the order of the night and we left before 7 AM, thus never were able to reciprocate the gesture of camaraderie. With any luck together, we will drop anchor at some other cove within these next three weeks; toasting good friends and healthy bodies!

Almost ready, but not quite. . .

2008-07-14T17:56:00.000-07:00

July 14, 2008 Secret Cove, BC

Since we were at the turning point, heading south, composing has been more difficult. Is it that I am getting excited to return to Des Moines, I believe this is true. I have enjoyed this journey more than anticipated. Two months of living on a boat is a good amount of time without going lazy or indifferent to the world. I miss knowing what is going on in politics, my community, my family and friends. And yet there is so much to say about places that are called “Pirates Cove” and “Secret Cove” that allow thoughts of smugglers and pirates lurking in the maze of islands and islets. The historian in me loves the places named after early navigators. So often we were a solitary boat in the waterways and at those times I would try to put myself as them seeing this place and recording it so others would want to see it for themselves. A big difference is that I had a knowledgeable captain, a boat with all the modern conveniences for comfort, navigation and propulsion. Large wooden sailing vessels, or the smaller boats, manned with many sets of oars would take tenacity and endurance. This country has its own lure, with a sense of natural beauty and lots of solitude. I look forward to actively help with the planning before we return next year. It has been a good trip and it is not over, so I should not jump to the end – rather appreciate the present.

Yesterday while standing at the checkout counter here in Secret Cove, a basket of red ripe tomatoes jumped out at me. I got so excited, that I grabbed a large bunch; you would have thought they were a large bouquet of fresh cut flowers from my garden! I look over at them, sitting on the counter, their skin is shiny and reflects the light, and the stems are contrasting with healthy green. I intend on slicing them for our Greek lamb pizza tonight’s dinner. The dough is rising, and looking at them, I have mixed feelings. I would love to pick one up, and eat it, enjoying the flavor, and the juice running down my arms. Or do I keep them on the counter and use them as surrogate flower arrangement? Perhaps I should go and buy some more before the store closes so I can do a little of everything. Going to a supermarket with choices of F R E S H produce, that lasts more than one day, (should you take the chance it will last), is not easy to find the further north one travels. Long ago I made the choice to cook with fresh rather than canned or prepared goods. Not as easy to do when you travel for two months to paths less traveled.

July 13, 2008 Southbound for three weeks . . .

And then we will be home a gain! It has been a great adventure reaching as far north as Squirrel Cove. I do believe it was the best place for anchorage for several evenings because there were lots of things to do off the boat; kayaking within the cove or heading out and down to the community store, hiking over to Von Donolop Inlet, or running the lagoon rapids. Hundreds of boats would have no problem anchoring within here, although some would have to stern tie to accommodate that many.

The two days we stayed here, each day the brilliant sun began high, white contrails that shifted and spread against the washed-out blue sky, an occasional wind picked up and set ripple patterns across a mill pond. The evenings ended with the moon waxing; the air so clear that Mother Moon could almost be seen as winking back at us, her moonlight so bright the stars were hidden. A stargazer must be patient and wait for the early morning hours to put on their sparkling show. Both nights I opened the companionway and stood atop the stairs, to hear the silence, feel the gentle fresh air of the hour and gaze up at all the stars, many as bright as the masthead lights glowing, singularly, or in pairs where friends rafted together. The water, so still, reflected everything back. As I write this, I wonder why I just didn’t take my comforter up into the cockpit and watch the new day evolve from perfection.

A majority of cruisers use the "Waggoner Cruiser Guide" as a wise companion for accurate guidance in selecting a good safe harbor in storms, places for fuel, hiking and eating. Should anyone reading this go to Squirrel Cove, please be advised that the hike to Von Donolop Inlet is not for those intending an easy hike. They said there was windfall at the entrance, but after that it was clear. Not true. Recent windfall was a constant and after an hour of scrambling under and over, getting very hot and sticky, elected to stop and head back. We heard from someone else that they did the same, so we didn’t feel like real losers. After re-hydrating with a water then beer we had the most wonderful dinner of our trip, second to the dinner at "The Alchemist" in Westview. A generous gift of fresh oysters and shrimp were given to us by Judy and Wayne. The oysters were sweet, no hint of iodine, their juice ran rosy, and reminding me of cider made at apple pressing in late fall. The shrimp were also perfection. Having the dining out in the cockpit is made simply for clean up, just splash a bucket of sea water and it was complete.

July 11, 2008 Squirrel Cove, Cortez Island

The wind died to complete calm last evening; guaranteeing a sound sleep last night and an easy passage in the morning. Our short passage over to Squirrel Cove went much too quickly. An urge to turn northward, towards what appeared to be a narrow passage into a new maze of islands – tempting us onward to the Broughtons. Ah, next year I promise.

The community of Squirrel Cove is visible as soon as one exits Refuge Cove. Soft sloping acreage hosts homes, an Indian community church painted classic white with the large cross atop the steeple are set to the right of the public dock, leading up to the Squirrel Cove Trading Company. A large stretch of sandy beaches stand out for few have been seen throughout our passage, and for me, it simply said, “Welcome.” The rocky cliffs along the way have looked formidable, and difficult to secure sure footing if one was so inclined. They are awesome to view as landscape or scenery; and state that the island is fit for the hardy and reclusive souls.

At the moment, the night song of the loons has pulled me away from writing. Their calling is beautiful and yet haunting and I’ve always enjoyed listening to it. I searched to locate them but they are on the distant shore or behind the small island near our anchorage. It is 10 PM, the still water is reflecting the light of a waxing half moon and the masthead lights of the many anchored throughout the cove. This is the largest setting that Pat has taken me to with many more options to keep us busy by day.

This afternoon we took our kayaks out for a couple hours to explore the back half. There a couple little islands, lots of coves within the cove, a mini-rapids which leads from a lagoon, (We have heard and read of people taking their kayaks and shooting through at just the right point of the tide change.) The once famous bakery is vacant and looks as if it has missed a couple seasons; the floats are listing slightly, the landing dock looks precarious to stand upon and a small padlock is on the door. Back and beyond this what looks like an island. We thought we could circumnavigate, and as we coming to a deadend, noticed a unique outhouse. Someone decided that using pipe was a better option than digging a hole into solid rock was the way to go.

6 Degrees of Separation

2008-07-10T12:01:00.000-07:00

July 10, 2008 Here we are in Refuge Cove, Cortez Island and John Thompson and his family, (Pat Stewart’s nemesis when racing their Cal 33’, Teaser, and raced against Pat in NOOD), Margaret-neighbor of the Heiders on Steel Lake, (my youngest daughter’s best friend’s family) are tied up to the same dock. This is not the first time we have seen someone from our past, nor do I suspect, is it the last occurrence before tying up in Des Moines. With the way the wind is continuing to blow, we may have the opportunity to visit throughout the day. Making passage over to Squirrel Cove isn’t necessarily the concern, simply getting away from the dock is not an option. Looking out the window I have seen only one large trawler venture out. People are walking down to the end of the mooring dock and looking out to the open sea. It is pure action - white is the predominate color.

Refuge Cove is a delightful, place to “park” ourselves. There are no new buildings and paint is an accent or after-thought throughout the cove. From our reading the history, the buildings are of the 1940’s vintage, or earlier. The shades of wood – untouched by a coat of paint or stain range from deep raw umber to pale shades of grey. A row of bright red geranium in a planter box up on the bookstore is cheerful as the stand out in contrast to the surrounding. Hanging planters, filled with fuchsia New Guinea impatiens swing brightly at the general store/post office covered walkway. Parked across from us is a refuge of the past, a houseboat with lots of history under it’s heavy moss cedar shingled roof. A ladder is permanently attached to the roof, and by the looks of the small metal chimney stack, is there for stack fires. Weeds have taken up permanent rooting on the side heaviest with moss. A well used yellow electrical extension cord serpentines its way into the bathroom window. The screen door, not quite square or aligned to the imperfect lines of the house, swings open and closed with the rhythm of the dock movement and the wind. The owner loves and is hopeful for fresh herbs; neat rows of four inch pots are lined on the two window sills. Two large black plastic containers host annuals that are promising bursts of yellow to brighten the once red stained shingled siding. An irregular hole just under the peak of the roof is covered with a plastic material of unknown previous use. The loft’s window has a red, blue and white striped sheet suspended with what looks like cast off clothes in the corner, not allowing it to hang straight. What we assume is a bathroom of sorts, is a remodel effort. Clear corrugated plastic creates a roof with new shingle siding is in the process of being nailed up. This definitely is lodging for summertime. Or it would take a very stout individual to live out the winter' harsh weather in what appears to be single wall construction.

Pat has been taking me on a sampler cruise; favorite places of his from past cruises with his friends aboard French Silk. It is unanimous that Roscoe Cove is a favorite for both of us. It is large enough to accommodate many boats and not have to stern tie, simply anchor. We can’t say enough of how wonderful it is to use the windlass for our anchoring. Hooray for modern technology and conveniences. There are two fresh water streams that enter the cove. The larger one is fed by Black Lake.

Black Lake is accessible by a short hike on an easy trail. Wearing my swimsuit over on our first visit to the lake, I had a great dip. It was very pleasant. On our second day, we decided that walking the kayaks over would be easy and a great way to explore the lake extensive shoreline. We never did get to the end, after a couple of hours of easy paddling. A bright blue something caught my eye and mentally was thinking that what a shame to have someone’s plastic bag be strewn casually out and destroy the effect of land and lake, untouched by humans. As we discussed this bit of garbage as we approached to inspect, a hand shot up and began waving. Then a man’s head popped up and looked towards us. We laughed and directed our kayaks out and away from the couple thought private and undisturbed beach. Looking back after giving them some distance, we noted that they reached their destination via a small inflatable boat. So yes, getting your small tender or kayak is a great way to see the lake. The lake’s environment was obviously favorable to the trees and shrubs on the distant shoreline. Everything looked healthier, deeper shades of green, less death of trees and branches. The side that you can reach from the trail, the shades of moss and grass were that of spoke of the end of summer and many more trees were dead, wedged upright position by neighboring trees or fallen over in varying angles. Our guess is that the winds must play havoc and create this disparity.

Our stay in Roscoe Bay was enriched with new friends, Jay and Anita of Nanaimo. Jay, a retired music teacher played his Martin traveling guitar while Anita accompanied with her singing. We had two evenings of great conversations and promises to meet next year at Roscoe Bay or some other special bay in Desolation Sound. We extended an open house to them should they come to Seattle. They treated us to a wonderful pie made of salmon berries, small blackberries and huckleberries they picked from shore on the second evening.

Thoughts from Desolation Sound

2008-07-09T15:54:00.000-07:00

July 7, 2008 Day Spa

When or how I began and ended my days with, “What will I do and/or what have I accomplished today?” I don’t honestly know. Today I am aware and questioning the compulsion to set goals has been a driving force in my life. It may, at times, have inhibited the freedom or natural ability to seize the moment and simply “just be”. Responsibility is a good virtue to own but to acknowledge and accept the responsibility to be good/reward oneself is important. And, when asked what a favorite memory is, the answer would honestly be: treasured moments of “playing” with my daughters or in my garden. Today is my little spa day!

In the past when asked what would be a perfect day for me I would answer with: a warm sunny day on a sandy beach, waves breaking in the background against the shore, a good book, and a long beach towel to stretch out on. The book, although the intentions would be to read, really was a pretext to look as if I was going to read. The warm sandy beach is great to push and scrunch around to take my body’s form as well as radiate stored heat , and the towel is simply practical to keep the sand off and out of me. Just moments ago, while lying on the bow of Liberte’ I realized I had just bettered this. The sounds of waves are below me as the water gently caresses the hull, my sound of music is much improved with robins and other songbirds in the forests compared to the cacophony of seagulls. My masseuse is the sun as he kneads his sunrays’ warmth across my shoulders and deep into my bones. I have a pillow to soften my contact with the deck of Liberte’, thus there are no sand fleas irritating my skin. The gentle breeze cools my skin’s surface which prevents overheating and causes me to shorten my time to a perfect time-out. I am learning to really enjoy this new habit of ‘time-out’. Should it be every day, then perhaps it would not be the gift it is. The fact I am aware and appreciate today is good. Pat and I do have many bounties as a married couple. Slowly I am beginning to fully acknowledge and appreciate more and more these gifts as time passes. This year, with our three big trips, indicates we definitely are utilizing the gift of time to enjoy one another.

We took our leave from Melanie Cove by 7:30 AM this morning and headed over to Roscoe Cove. There are two windows, each at high tide that allows sailboats to enter the inner cove. In my lesson this morning, Pat explained and showed me using the Ports and Passes, how he figures out our grace period so that leaving will not be a problem with our seven foot keel. Making passage at an incoming tide allows for a better chance; should you round aground, the incoming water will lift you off sooner than later. Pretty important stuff to know!

Anchoring here was easy. Actually, it has been easy everywhere due to Pat’s experience and the powered windlass. More fascinating has been watching the behavior of a boat once the anchor is set. Being the neophyte, I am certain drives Pat a little crazy as I bring to his attention we might be getting ‘too close’. In Melanie Cove the conflict/action of the wind, current and tide all had our boat moving over quite a large area. Pat chose to have a 6:1 scope. The difference between high and low tide was 12-15 feet so Liberte’ took the opportunity to spread her wings at times. After three uneventful nights it is now making more sense to me.

We took our kayaks ashore so that we could take the short walk over to Black Lake. I wore my swimsuit and flip-flops with the intention of taking a dip in fresh water. It was cool, but not cold and felt very refreshing. Before returning to our ‘home’ we paddled all around the entire perimeter of the cove, exploring the shoreline. The tree line comes down to the water’s edge predominately. This leaves only a couple places to go ashore. A small set of mini-waterfalls trickle down a rocky cliff near the entrance. Just across from our mooring I can hear a small stream run to meet the saltwater. At the end of the cove is a larger stream that is fed by Black Lake. At the mouth are large beds of oysters clinging to the sides of the hills or in colonies of their own. Clear, non-stinging jellyfish waved and danced along the bottom. An innumerable amount of small to minute clam shells, all empty occupied the shoreline. Why they are empty I do not know. We have seen a few ducks and an occasional seagull but no other predators such as otters or raccoons have been seen.

Tomorrow we intend on carrying our kayaks over to Black Lake and explore the lake’s shoreline and perhaps the island towards the opposite end. Tonight we will host new friends, Jak and Anita, from Nanaimo, BC over for ‘happy hour’. Jak is a retired music teacher and will bring his guitar over to share his love of music.

July 6, 2008 Prideaux Haven - Melanie Cove

We awoke to stillness, only broken by the sounds of songbirds hidden deep within the forest surrounding Melanie Cove, greeting the new day. Looking above and out of the V-berth hatch window, the sky was pale blue. The water was still for there were no sounds coming from our hull. Even the minto quietly sat tied snug to the backstay. It takes less for her sides to react, or ‘slap’ In a rolling fashion from side to side, against a change in the current, tide or waves due to wind. For as much time as I have spent, five weeks, discerning which way the boat is swinging while at anchor or on a buoy, still baffles me. When sitting out in the cabin, looking out the narrow slits of window, helps because I can see the tree line move forward, or backward. On a couple days when the weather was creating sloppy seas, or a large power boat with disregard to no wake zones, unless I really focus, there is little or no sensation of movement. Liberte’ must sit well or I’ve a good set of sea-legs!

We haven’t had a ‘busy’ day for so long; one that had us up before 6 AM and pulling our anchorage to make for a destination or working the tides in our favor that I feel a little embarrassed to think I’m getting lazy! In doing the busy work of housekeeping or preparing a meal, there is something to show for the little time spent. The days while moored we have the decision to read a book, cast a few stitches on a sweater is nearing completion, kayaking or rowing to shore for a hike are pretty much the extent of the day. Pat has the goal of waxing the surface of the deck before we return. Another highlight is to sit in the cockpit at twilight and watch the sky transition from light to darkness. This can take some time with the longer daylight hours of summer. We haven’t watched the night sky fill with stars due to cloud coverage or being at dockside on clear nights. Pat and I should come back well rested with two months of a restful state.

We did take our kayaks out for what was our longest outing this morning. We navigated in and out of the majority of the coves and bays here in Prideaux Haven. The tide was outgoing but not in a hurry thus there were no issues of the direction we would choose. Two seagulls talked uncontrollably as we slide by. With the stillness of the cove, the sound echoed, multiplying it by ten-fold. The entire time out, it was quite noticeable that fish appear to be missing. The contiguous walls that make this an island and the rock shoals projecting themselves in precarious locations for boaters are rich with oysters. Signs are posted throughout the park and in most of the cruising guides that they are not to be picked, they are unsafe for consumption. We found one knowledgeable sailor who had continued on and beyond the common bay for anchoring and found a cove “just right for one” good size sailboat. My suspicion is that entering and exiting is only done with the highest of tides.

Last night we rowed the minto to the end of the bay, with the goal of locating Mike’s cabin. The tide shift had been around 12-15 feet if I have it right, so planning where to tying the painter after bringing the boat in over the mucky, rocky and heavy with oysters beach was a big ordeal. It was beginning noticeably migrate in. The trail head was hidden under heavy evergreen boughs and looked easy. The undergrowth was dense as the canopy above. Deer fern, sword fern, salal, nurse logs with moss five inches thick were the most recognizable to me. The evening sunlight filtered through in sections, creating a spotlight effect in some areas. We saw no evidence of Mike living here – no apple trees – nothing other than a verdant forest. After about fifteen minutes of tripping over large roots that dominated parts of the good trail, or working to avoid walking through muddy patches we decided to return to our minto and save hiking for another day. In wading to retrieve the boat and keep her from scraping against the oyster beds, I discovered how warm the water is here– it felt as a lake by the end of summer to me.
What little we have passed through here in Desolation Sound, I do believe that this is part of the beauty, the uniqueness of the area that draws many to return; so many private and magical places to discover and yet protected from the winds that can blow.
Tomorrow Roscoe Bay so we have to be up and out by 9 AM to get over the drying shoal that divides the inner and outer coves. I look forward to going there, a favorite place of Pat. From what I read, there is a lake to swim in, and trails to hike. I’ll let you know what we find. Now back to the very quiet serenity in my backyard.

July 5, 2008 Are you sitting comfortably; letting Merlin cast his spell?

The Moody Blues are singing this melody, as we lie at anchor in Melanie Cove, Desolation Sound; the clouds are approaching closer to the top of the mast rather than dispersing as we hoped would happen as the day progressed. The original plan was to row to the end of the cove and hike about, exploring the remains of Mike’s cabin, his apple orchard and tumbling rock walls surrounding what was a garden. The day may offer this opportunity later in the afternoon – or not. Both Pat and I are very content today. Mother Nature is flip-flopping with rain showers and has made it easy to sit back in the shelter of our floating home. My other ambitions were to clean the cabin, complete a front to a sweater I’m knitting and start the sleeves and make this journal entry. Later, prepare Pat a rib roast dinner.

I love what I have seen of the Desolation Sound and am in no hurry to move on. There was a serenity that encompassed me once we passed the entrance to the Desolation Sound. In fact, while I write this, I’m questioning myself why didn’t we get here earlier? In one of the many readings Pat has provided me on the region, it stated that Princess Louisa Inlet made believers of non-believers; for me Desolation Sound is living proof that there is a Higher Power with infinite powers of creating beauty that is hard to match. Even with the winds blowing with erratic irregularity, I have a sense of security and tranquility. Combine this with Pat’s company and being aboard Liberte’, this is a safe haven. I don’t want to leave, or rush the moment. I am thinking about whom I am, where I’ve been and where I want to go. It will be here that goals will be revisited and re-evaluated. I prefer to believe that life is an evolution; a continuous learning process that allows mistakes, (only learning to recognize and acknowledge them), and emerging with stronger character, less character defects. Reaching this point on the charts, not maps, reconfirms that the quiet setting of outdoors, smaller towns rather than busy cities is my preference. Enough! You are here to read about my thoughts and observations about the past few days.

Westview: I appreciated the comfort and the flavor of this town. It is geared for the many transients, cruisers going and returning from the waterways north and they make you feel welcome. Some of the amenities included are: marine store, Laundromat, bowling alley, several bookstores and day spas, gift and clothing shops, even a quilt shop, liquor and within a mile the major shopping center with two grocery stores, Wal-Mart, drugstore, Canadian Tires and Starbucks! There are many eateries ranging from pizza, Greek, Thai, Mexican, a free internet bakery and our favorite – The Alchemist, a French restaurant with a touch of Tuscany.
We treated ourselves to an exquisite meal that went from touching our sense of taste, eye appeal with food presentation to the ambiance of the dining room, and a personable and extremely talented owner/chef - Francoise. He and his wife, also an exceptional cook, opened exactly a year ago. They took an old house and renovated the interior: large Mediterranean tiles on the floor, soft textured walls of yellow, few paintings and prints hung the wall , and the warmth of mahogany chairs surrounding tables simplistically set with cloth runners and crisp white linen napkins that spoke volumes of the care to details. Every dish brought to our table or to neighboring diners demonstrated a passion of the owners. Nothing was haphazardly set on a dish. Francoise, and his wife are the owners/chefs, walked around the dining room introduced himself, asking how we enjoyed the meal. Pat choice had been the lamb – a shank combined with 2-3 standing ribs, accented with a sauce, both cooked to perfection in texture and flavor. The side of Yukon gold potatoes and roasted vegetables had him nearly licking the plate. My decision was to go with the chicken breast that had a variety of flavors entwined that never overwhelmed one another, rather compliment. It was served with polenta with a pleasant bite and the roasted vegetables; asparagus, beet, carrot and zucchini. The salad we began with was very fresh greens with light balsamic vinaigrette, a piece of thin crisp toast spread heavy with herb boursin cheese encouraged our appetites. Our dessert, profiteroles, was garnished with a gooseberry. The outer paper like skin had been sliced and peeled back and left to dry to look like tissue paper leaves. It had been chilled so when the diner bit into the fruit the cold distinct taste was a sensory delight. We offered him Seattle. Should he make the move we promised we would be there so frequent, we would have a table of our own! Our waitress, also French, was charming and Karen was the perfect hostess; graciously communicated between the diners and the cooks in the back with sparkling eyes, a genuine smile and attitude of making you feel at home and not a stranger. The Alchemist is a definite reason to revisit Westview, if not on our return then next year. We wish them well and continued success.

So what is it that makes Desolation Sound “heaven on earth”? Waterways made up of channels, coves, and bays of every size and contour, creating a maze, are outlined with islands, islets or rock/s of a variety of shoreline. Although few, sand – rocky beaches appear as welcome landing to the kayakers you see out here. Yesterday we did see one kayaker making several attempts before returning back into his boat out in the middle of Thulin Passage, the northern end of Copeland Islands. We slowed to offer assistance, but his companion was towing him to the beach at that point and waved all was well. Rocky cliffs of varying heights seem to be the rule. With all the little nooks and crannies, Pat said that a sailor has opportunities to find shelter as long as one studies the charts as to be advised to lay of the land below. Drying rocks, shoals that emerge during low tide could ruin the inattentive sailor should he rush in to pass over of lay anchor. Evergreen firs densely cover major sections of the islands which look as is they are made of volcanic, old rock. Some walls are sheer and smooth or stepped, making me consider paintings of Japan, while others are rounded and carved smoothed by centuries of current rushing by with a certainty of the water’s force. Layers upon layers of rolling hills and low mountains made me visualize watercolors. In the distance snow capped peaks are still visible.

We entered into Homfray Channel as the tide was going out which gave sight to thick patches of kelp and algae ranging from black to the multitude of shades green-ending with chartreuse. The artist within was enjoying every essence and beauty offered to four of the five senses; I simply had to leave the security of home. Sounds of seagulls above, songbirds onshore, the wind in the sail, and water pushing past our boat’s hull, the warm air to the touching our skin and feeling the roll of the waves below, the smell of the sea and sea life clinging to the drying rocks that is strong enough you can almost taste the mix of salt and iodine, and visually the excitement of discovering what is around the next bend or up on each island stirs the poet, the artist, an outdoorsman and the naturalist – that sums up a sailor in my estimation. I’m happy that I married one and grateful he is willing to share and teach me this way of life.

During the four hour journey under multiple methods of cruising to Melanie Cove, we were all but solitary sailors which gave the sense of discovery an added sense of awe and wonder. I believe that we could spend years meandering in and about so that we could become well versed on the region. I’m ready to pickup the books that tell of the history and describe the wildlife, flora and geography of Desolation Sound. Next time I will not resist when Pat says,” let’s go.” I’ll be ready and willing!

Many miles traveled and explored – much to share

2008-07-03T11:43:00.000-07:00

July 2, 2008
I’m sitting here in Westview, nestled well within a menagerie of boats; a majority have 100 times more miles under our keel than Liberte’ by the looks of them. Waggoner Cruising Guide said to call in and they will make room for you! Jim the manager of the marina is known for his ability to make you welcome and adjust to accommodate one and all. He helped us dock and asked if we came for the international music festival that is taking place this week. One of the musicians is moored directly across from us; he was practicing what sounded like a penny-flute and we had our own small performance as we try to remain cool on a hot muggy afternoon. Westview is a small marine city located on the Malaspina Strait. The docks are beginning to show lots of usage and not upkeep. The original plan was to refuel at the dock as we entered the harbor, but our depth below the keel was 2.9 feet – and we were 30 feet away from the dock so thought better of it and went to Plan B, get fuel on the way out in a couple days, while the tide is working for us.

Liberte’, with her natural beauty, (straight, no-nonsense lines of a thoroughbred rather than bodacious cruiser, “claret” in color and tall slim mast), draw many remarkable people to start conversations with her owners. Brian is an example of this. He was down on the dock, to check the leak within his boat; a 46 wooden boat that his father designed and with the help of his wife and sons, built in the ‘70’s. She has the charm of a family summer cottage. Listening to him talk about the adventures the family took aboard her this is more than a boat. It is family and heritage. His father passed just a month ago and now the struggle to know when is enough to let go of working to repair her or time to let go. It was with pride and admiration when speaking of his family. He saved Pat from hiring a taxi by driving him up to the location for purchasing propane-a distance not for walking and carrying the fuel tank back. He has offered to drive us up this evening to the Grange/Community Center where the International Music Festival is occurring, should we be able to get tickets. Another gentleman swapped a few favorite family places they cruised to as well as giving us info about going for free admission to the competition concert this morning. I’m getting the sense that boaters have a sense of looking out for one another; reminds me of my “happy days” of growing up in the fifties and the sense of neighborhoods being there for one another – more than it is today. Enough philosophy, let’s get back to our journey.

Last evening we were hoping to reach this port but the wind and tides worked against us the entire time we plugged through Jervis Inlet so we spent the night at a public dock in Saltery Bay. Pat had done a great job of planning the time to exit through Malibu Rapids. We approached forty-five minutes early- waited for about fifteen minutes, while watching several other boats fly out! We had communicated over to Firefly who was questioning the chance to go through safely. Pat said he was going to wait; working hard at not scaring me and protecting the boat. He asked them to contact him after going through. “You fly through with a push of 4-5 knots, but it is ok.” Firefly had several children onboard and if the parents felt it was good, why not? I was glad that Pat was at the helm. There was a lot of twirling, pushing and pulling as you are turning in a limited area to stay clear of the rocks, seen and not, and the marker. We had great wind to sail, (up to 25 knots), much of the time providing it wasn’t right on our nose would take patience to zigzag the 46 miles. The defining factor that kept our sails down was the current was running a strong 2+ knots against us! So it was sluggish 4-5 knots we pushed our way back through the 46 miles. Yes, another long day.

Princess Louisa Inlet – Chatterbox Falls Impressions June 27- July 1
The morning began with the sun high, not a cloud in sight and left Garden Bay, Pender Harbor around 7:30 AM. Pat was planning on a 7 hour passage to Malibu Rapids, giving us an hour’s grace for the unknown factors that impede our progress to make for slack tide. Jervis Inlet’s landscape was a variation of mountains that were rugged to round and a mile high. The conical forms of fir and cedar trees were softened with clusters of what appeared to be softly rounded maples, with madronas. Shrubs bearing white blooms broke the solid walls of green as did granite rock laden with a thick layer of moss on their higher portions and algae and kelp along the waters edge. Along some sections one would think that a landscaper had come along and trimmed the lower limbs of all trees; indicating high tide water line. In the distance, as we began the day’s journey, snow capped mountains were seen in the distance. The closer we approached the entrance to Princess Louisa Inlet; those snow capped mountains were running parallel with the water. It was at this point that waterfalls began appearing everywhere. Some looked like sugar icing poured over a smooth layer of chocolate frosting, while others were ribbons of white cutting through the trees and the most spectacular were those with force, velocity and volume that they pushed and cascaded away from the mountains. The waterfalls broke the monotony of the passage. It is pretty country; for me it was long with the sun’s heat beating down on us.
We arrived at Malibu Club, a summer camp for teenagers to have every form of fun in the water was filled to capacity. Laughter and chatter surpassed the drown of the engine. With an hour to fill before slack we journeyed beyond the rapids and went searching for petroglyphs and pictographs that Pat and his crew located on his last voyage here. Thanks to Bob and Cliff doing a great job of documenting the locations, we did find the second set; painted red symbols of fish, and shapes we are not sure of their meanings. Going back through the rapids was a non-event and the 4 mile trip to Chatterbox Falls, found at the end of Princess Louisa Inlet was far enough away I had no idea of what to expect. Waterfalls continued to appear as described previously, the inlet itself was calm without more than a ripple. Anderson Island had a few boats anchored – was it going to be full at the free dock and all the available anchorage in front of the falls full? Rounding the final bend, the roar of Chatterbox Falls got our attention as well as the volume of water pounding the rocks at the water’s edge! The dock was full. As we were passing we heard “Pat” It ended up being Bob and Paul who had been moored in Des Moines next to Liberte’. They offered to allow us to raft up to Camperna for the night. What a small world. Bob & his wife are from Australia with so many voyages to tell about. I’m not certain if they had traveled around the world but pretty close to it. Susan and Paul, with their two toddlers, (Campenera is their boat), are from California. They too have many adventures to share. They invited us over for wine and snacks on our second evening at Chatterbox Falls which Pat accepted. I did make a large batch of cinnamon, cranberry sticky buns to offer as a thank you for allowing us to raft up to early the next morning.

While the bread dough was rising Pat and I did take a short hike to the lower side of Chatterbox Fall. Since he was last here, a large covered area has been constructed with a plaque to commemorate the effort of MacDonald to make this a protected area for one and all. The overspray from the water was so significant that one could almost use it as a refreshing shower. A wonderful respite from the intensity of the sun beating down into the canyon, with no breeze. The trail head marker to the start of the Trapper’s Cabin indicated that it was a strenuous 2 mile hike; a 2,000 foot elevation gain. No thank you. I’ve done that some 30 years ago and not willing to ‘prove’ myself this time. Many people were frolicking at the bottom of the falls, where it acts like a river before entering the inlet while the tide was out. In the afternoon, while the temperature was still rising or maintaining its heat, we chose to go kayaking around the perimeter of the inlet. It was fun to hear birds, some sounding like robins but the trees were so dense you could not see into them. The water near the edge was clear and as we passed over you could see clam shells and in some areas, oysters. An upside-down crab carcass was the only indication that there were other forms of sea life around. Before we headed back to the boat, a line of four seals were popping up and down, which makes me think that there was something available for them to forage after their journey in here. All the while we were paddling easily about, the sun beat down on our hat covered heads, we continued to hydrate with water and I would splash water onto my shoulders, arms and actually dipped my hat to try to lower my body’s heat. It didn’t work well enough. I was back onboard the boat by 4 PM and it took 48 hours to begin feeling human again. I am still working on getting back to being normal! Thank goodness that Pat is content to keep himself occupied and fend for himself. I have been worthless as best mate and am anxious to be available once we return to sea Friday, heading up to Desolation Sound. We will be there for a week give or take. It depends on what is to see and the weather. It will be that long before I am able to continue this saga due to lack of connections

What a difference a day can make

2008-06-27T23:15:00.000-07:00

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.

Transitioning

2008-06-25T22:10:00.000-07:00

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.

Pirates Cove and Tranquility!

2008-06-25T19:27:00.000-07:00

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.

Starting Week Four- Telegraph Harbor

2008-06-22T13:10:00.000-07:00

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.

June 18, 2008 – A good day to catch up

2008-06-18T09:11:00.000-07:00

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!

2008-06-14T14:55:00.000-07:00

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.

June 7, 2008

2008-06-08T11:21:00.000-07:00

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.

June 5, 2008

2008-06-05T22:37:00.000-07:00

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.

June 3, 2008

2008-06-04T17:49:00.000-07:00

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.

June 1, 2008

2008-06-04T17:46:00.000-07:00

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.