The Miss Molly I Adventures - Part 3
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Puget Sound and the Straits of Juan de Fuca
We had officially cleared in to the USA in Friday Harbor on San Juan Island and now had 6 month visas with which we could explore and travel. We planned to head down into Puget Sound, have a look around and find a good spot where we could finish preparing the boat for the Pacific Ocean passage down the west coast. As mentioned earlier, the plan was to head out into the Pacific in June, and it was now early May. We had bought a cruising guide book to Puget Sound and it all sounded very lovely, so we had a good month in which to have a look around. This month would also allow us the chance to gain more experience of sailing with the junk rig - which we were entirely new to, but which was proving effective and straightforward.
So, on the 4th May, at about 13:30, we set off from our anchorage in Friday Harbor and sailed between Shaw and Lopez islands, around the north tip of Blakely Island, across the Rosario Strait and about halfway down the east side of Cypress Island to our anchorage just north of Eagle Harbor on Cypress Island. There was a good breeze and we had an excellent sail, sometimes with a reef in (reefing the junk sail is really a piece of cake - you just lower the halyard until the desired batten sits in the lazy jacks and then pull in the sheet. This makes it easy to throw reefs in or out pretty much as you please!)
So, on the 4th May, at about 13:30, we set off from our anchorage in Friday Harbor and sailed between Shaw and Lopez islands, around the north tip of Blakely Island, across the Rosario Strait and about halfway down the east side of Cypress Island to our anchorage just north of Eagle Harbor on Cypress Island. There was a good breeze and we had an excellent sail, sometimes with a reef in (reefing the junk sail is really a piece of cake - you just lower the halyard until the desired batten sits in the lazy jacks and then pull in the sheet. This makes it easy to throw reefs in or out pretty much as you please!)
The San Juan Islands (Source: Google Maps)
Sailing in the San Juan Islands
The next morning we were underway by 9:30 with a brisk wind. We sailed further down the east side of Cypress Island, then headed east and around the tip at Anacortes and down to the entrance of the Swinomish Canal. We had a marvellous run dead downwind to the canal entrance and then continued sailing in the canal to just before the Skagit County Marina at La Conner, where we motored in and took a berth for $9.60 for the night (without electricity - we were energy independent, so didn't need it!). It was an excellent sail and we arrived with time enough to spare to have a look around the town of La Conner and buy ourselves a few treats. (Karin bought a framed picture of sea birds there that hangs at the top of our stairs to this day)
Downwind towards the entrance to the Swinomish Canal
Under the road bridge at the entrance to the canal
We'd been underway for about 3 weeks now and were starting to really get used to life on board. We were a low-tech boat, but the various systems all worked well and life on board was comfortable. Our Volvo Penta MD1B motor was reliable and burned very little fuel - we had a 6 gallon tank mounted below the port aft sidedeck that used gravity feed to supply the engine and Dickinson stove. We could motor for about 24 hours on the contents of this tank before it needed filling from one of the jerry cans that we carried in the lazarette. We had enough diesel on board for a comfortable week of motoring should such a scenario ever arise. The Dickinson diesel stove consumed very little diesel, but was great for cooking on and the oven was excellent for baking. The stove could be left running whenever desired and it heated the boat brilliantly. On rare occasions, the wind would blow back down the revolving chimney cap, blowing a bit of dark smoke into the boat, but this was, as said, rare, and could be counteracted by switching on the electric fan built into the oven (it had 3 speeds).
When it was dark, we lit the cabin with 2 gimballed oil lamps (we used to fill them with white spirit, but I don't think I'd recommend that!), and when we read, we had 2 electric (1 amp) reading lights installed above the cabin settees. Our electricity needs were minimal. At this stage we were never underway in the dark, so didn't need nav lights. We just needed enough for the occasional use of the reading lights and stove fan and the VHF radio and radio/cassette player. All electrical devices ran off 12 volts and we had no mains voltage when underway. If we needed it (and we didn't), we could get mains voltage from a plug socket in the cabin when we were plugged in to shore power. Our occasional motoring was more than enough to keep the ordinary car battery that we were using as a service battery charged.
We cooked all of our own food. We didn't have a fridge or freezer, but stored fresh food against the inside of the underwater hull, where it was cold enough to keep it fresh for a reasonable duration. We had canned goods in a galley cupboard or under a cabin settee, and dry goods stored in tupperware-style containers in the galley. Some fresh fruit and veg was stored in a series of net baskets in the galley. This all worked well, and meant we could stay away from shops for a quite a while (we never pushed it to its limits, but I think a few weeks would have been possible).
Our 20 gallon water tanks were quite sufficient, backed up by the water jugs in the lazarette. Again, we were sparing with fresh water usage. We washed the dishes in salt water and just rinsed them with a little fresh water. Obviously the toilet flushed with salt water. We found that 2 - 3 litres were enough for a shower, if you were careful, or one could shower with a 50/50 blend of salt and fresh water (maybe with a quick fresh water rinse at the end), but we certainly didn't shower every day!
The junk rig was excellent. In the waters we had sailed so far, all points of sail were possible - the rumours of junks not sailing to windward were proving to be nonsense - and downwind was fast and dreamily easy. Tacking, gybing, reefing and sail raising and lowering were all really simple - all done without the need for a winch of any sort (which was just as well because we didn't have one). Anchoring was also working out perfectly and we always had a suitable anchor for the occasion, which, together with the all-chain rode, meant we had perfect holding. Raising the anchor was easy enough for a young and fit me, as long as I was patient enough.
And clearly, there's a point here. There are many different ways to cruise. Some people like a life of luxury with all possible conveniences; fridges, freezers, electric winches, washing machines, watermakers, electricity generators, enormous boats with enormous tanks, etc, etc; and good luck to them if they can afford it. I'm sure it's all splendid. But if you hanker to get out there but don't have the available hundreds of thousands of readies that all that costs, there are still possibilities. Clearly, with no money whatsoever, it's gonna be tricky, but with a small amount and a traditional, or low-tech approach, there's nothing stopping you. I reckon that (at the time of writing: 2017) with about 30,000 euros/dollars/pounds (there's not much difference at the moment), you can get yourself a cruising-capable boat and have enough kitty left to set off. You'll probably have to find some source of income on the way, but with a low-tech, low-expense lifestyle, that'll get you a long way towards enjoying all those marvellous sights and experiences that are out there waiting for you. There are a few questions of course; not the least being; do you want to buy an existing boat? - one cruising ready, or a fixer-upper? Or do you want to build a boat yourself and set off with a brand new boat that you know every inch of; every nook and cranny? I think all of those options are possible within the budget that I mention above, but it will have to be low-tech - as soon as you start wanting those extra comforts, the price starts going up. And believe me, they are not necessary!
Rant over. Back to the story!
So, the next morning we were up and away by 7:30 a.m. We motored out of the Swinomish Canal into Skagit Bay in the still morning air. It was one of those wonderful mornings that remains imprinted in the memory. In the early morning grey light, a thin mist was hanging over the water as we left the canal and entered Skagit Bay and there were a large number of herons standing in the shallows or perched on sticks that had been rammed into mud banks to mark the shallow bits. It was perfectly still apart from the putt putt of our single cylinder Volvo Penta diesel. It was really glorious. We motored gently down to Strawberry Point and then a light breeze came up and we managed to sail across to Camano Island.
When it was dark, we lit the cabin with 2 gimballed oil lamps (we used to fill them with white spirit, but I don't think I'd recommend that!), and when we read, we had 2 electric (1 amp) reading lights installed above the cabin settees. Our electricity needs were minimal. At this stage we were never underway in the dark, so didn't need nav lights. We just needed enough for the occasional use of the reading lights and stove fan and the VHF radio and radio/cassette player. All electrical devices ran off 12 volts and we had no mains voltage when underway. If we needed it (and we didn't), we could get mains voltage from a plug socket in the cabin when we were plugged in to shore power. Our occasional motoring was more than enough to keep the ordinary car battery that we were using as a service battery charged.
We cooked all of our own food. We didn't have a fridge or freezer, but stored fresh food against the inside of the underwater hull, where it was cold enough to keep it fresh for a reasonable duration. We had canned goods in a galley cupboard or under a cabin settee, and dry goods stored in tupperware-style containers in the galley. Some fresh fruit and veg was stored in a series of net baskets in the galley. This all worked well, and meant we could stay away from shops for a quite a while (we never pushed it to its limits, but I think a few weeks would have been possible).
Our 20 gallon water tanks were quite sufficient, backed up by the water jugs in the lazarette. Again, we were sparing with fresh water usage. We washed the dishes in salt water and just rinsed them with a little fresh water. Obviously the toilet flushed with salt water. We found that 2 - 3 litres were enough for a shower, if you were careful, or one could shower with a 50/50 blend of salt and fresh water (maybe with a quick fresh water rinse at the end), but we certainly didn't shower every day!
The junk rig was excellent. In the waters we had sailed so far, all points of sail were possible - the rumours of junks not sailing to windward were proving to be nonsense - and downwind was fast and dreamily easy. Tacking, gybing, reefing and sail raising and lowering were all really simple - all done without the need for a winch of any sort (which was just as well because we didn't have one). Anchoring was also working out perfectly and we always had a suitable anchor for the occasion, which, together with the all-chain rode, meant we had perfect holding. Raising the anchor was easy enough for a young and fit me, as long as I was patient enough.
And clearly, there's a point here. There are many different ways to cruise. Some people like a life of luxury with all possible conveniences; fridges, freezers, electric winches, washing machines, watermakers, electricity generators, enormous boats with enormous tanks, etc, etc; and good luck to them if they can afford it. I'm sure it's all splendid. But if you hanker to get out there but don't have the available hundreds of thousands of readies that all that costs, there are still possibilities. Clearly, with no money whatsoever, it's gonna be tricky, but with a small amount and a traditional, or low-tech approach, there's nothing stopping you. I reckon that (at the time of writing: 2017) with about 30,000 euros/dollars/pounds (there's not much difference at the moment), you can get yourself a cruising-capable boat and have enough kitty left to set off. You'll probably have to find some source of income on the way, but with a low-tech, low-expense lifestyle, that'll get you a long way towards enjoying all those marvellous sights and experiences that are out there waiting for you. There are a few questions of course; not the least being; do you want to buy an existing boat? - one cruising ready, or a fixer-upper? Or do you want to build a boat yourself and set off with a brand new boat that you know every inch of; every nook and cranny? I think all of those options are possible within the budget that I mention above, but it will have to be low-tech - as soon as you start wanting those extra comforts, the price starts going up. And believe me, they are not necessary!
Rant over. Back to the story!
So, the next morning we were up and away by 7:30 a.m. We motored out of the Swinomish Canal into Skagit Bay in the still morning air. It was one of those wonderful mornings that remains imprinted in the memory. In the early morning grey light, a thin mist was hanging over the water as we left the canal and entered Skagit Bay and there were a large number of herons standing in the shallows or perched on sticks that had been rammed into mud banks to mark the shallow bits. It was perfectly still apart from the putt putt of our single cylinder Volvo Penta diesel. It was really glorious. We motored gently down to Strawberry Point and then a light breeze came up and we managed to sail across to Camano Island.
South of La Conner (Source: Google Maps)
The breeze was very light and we did our very best to sail, sometimes having to fire up the motor to keep things moving, but shutting her down again whenever we felt there was enough of a breeze to move us forwards in the peace and quiet. At one point I held on to a tack rather too long and we ran aground on sand off of North Bluff on Whidbey Island, but we were going so slowly that we could reverse off under motor without problem. We finally anchored off of Langley at 20:30 after a long day of windward light airs.
And south of that (Source: Google Maps)
We were underway again at 8:30 the next morning with a light southeasterly breeze which had us motorsailing the whole day. We were heading south towards Seattle and that was exciting - a big American city; the home of Hendrix and grunge music. We had visited Seattle with our car a year earlier, but approaching by sea was different. It was very cool as the city came into view around West Point!
Seattle appearing around the corner of West Point
But we weren't destined for Seattle actually. Our plan was to anchor in Eagle Harbor on Bainbridge Island. From the guidebook, it sounded an ideal place to anchor up and do the boat work we still wanted to do for our final preparations for the ocean. Bainbridge Island had all the shops we needed and we could anchor there for free, whilst still being able to take the ferry across to Seattle for some tourism or whatever.
So, that indeed is what we did. We anchored in Eagle Harbor at about 19:30, made dinner, relaxed and then turned in. We were woken at about 5 a.m. as the current was making the anchored boats swing strangely and we had swung very close to another anchored boat - somehow you sense these things, even when asleep - that's one of the things about sleeping on a boat at anchor, or at sea, or to a lesser degree tied up in a marina, you never quite fully let go, some deeper sense is always somehow paying attention to the behaviour of the boat. Anyhow, I had a look and decided to shorten the anchor chain that we had out - I had probably been over generous, as usual - and after watching for a while and deciding all was safe and well again, I went back to bed.
So, that indeed is what we did. We anchored in Eagle Harbor at about 19:30, made dinner, relaxed and then turned in. We were woken at about 5 a.m. as the current was making the anchored boats swing strangely and we had swung very close to another anchored boat - somehow you sense these things, even when asleep - that's one of the things about sleeping on a boat at anchor, or at sea, or to a lesser degree tied up in a marina, you never quite fully let go, some deeper sense is always somehow paying attention to the behaviour of the boat. Anyhow, I had a look and decided to shorten the anchor chain that we had out - I had probably been over generous, as usual - and after watching for a while and deciding all was safe and well again, I went back to bed.
Eagle Harbor and Bainbridge Island turned out to be the perfect place for our needs. It was a very safe anchorage and there was a friendly community of people anchored out there. We could easily complete our boat work, we made friends, were invited for dinners, visited Seattle a couple of times and generally enjoyed ourselves. The sun shone, it was warm and delightful. We stayed there for a full month.
Views of Seattle
My first sighting of a San Francisco Bay Pelican (a Great Pelican, I believe)
There was quite a lively boating scene on Bainbridge Island and it was a real pleasure to hang out there. There were a surprising number of junk rigged boats and I wandered around and photographed most of them and named the resulting pics my 'junk collection'. The delightful little junk-rigger above was my first ever sighting of a San Francisco Bay Pelican - this one the slightly larger Great Pelican, I believe. I remember the owner telling me that he came originally from the Czech Republic, or Czechoslovakia, (I think) and that he'd emigrated to England, where, after a while, he'd bought himself a sail boat (not the Pelican!!) despite having little sailing experience, and had set sail for the Caribbean. From there, he'd made his way through the Panama Canal and up the West Coast to end up there. Years later, I built a Pelican-style boat myself.
We made friends with the people on the beautiful, aluminium-hulled, junk-rigged 'Tattoo' and greatly enjoyed chatting with them and hearing of their experiences. They had formerly spent some of their time fishing in Alaska and had some marvelous tales to tell. They gave us a can of their home-canned albacore tuna, telling us to keep it for a time when we needed it and to use it as 'power food'. Incredible to think, but they also introduced us to Mexican-style tacos - a food that at the time we'd never seen before, but which has been a staple part of our diet ever since.
We made friends with the people on the beautiful, aluminium-hulled, junk-rigged 'Tattoo' and greatly enjoyed chatting with them and hearing of their experiences. They had formerly spent some of their time fishing in Alaska and had some marvelous tales to tell. They gave us a can of their home-canned albacore tuna, telling us to keep it for a time when we needed it and to use it as 'power food'. Incredible to think, but they also introduced us to Mexican-style tacos - a food that at the time we'd never seen before, but which has been a staple part of our diet ever since.
Tattoo
We worked hard too while we were there and got our boat ocean-ready. We were thorough and tried to make the boat as safe as possible - we went as far as fitting retaining straps to the floor boards in case of a knockdown. At one point we took a sail over to Seattle, tying up for the day in Shilshole Marina and visiting the West Marine chandlery, amongst other things, but on 6th June it was time to move on. The boat was ready and we were running low on cash. When we left Bainbridge Island, we were down to our last 300 dollars with the boat fully stocked with food, fuel and water. An extra pressure on our schedule was the fact that we had learnt that my brother was getting married that autumn, and there was no way I was going to miss that!
That first day, we left Eagle Harbor mid afternoon and just motored around to Fay Bainbridge state park, where we picked up a mooring, but it was all too rolly for comfort and at 20:30 we decided to move on and motored the extra half an hour around to the anchorage at Port Madison.
That first day, we left Eagle Harbor mid afternoon and just motored around to Fay Bainbridge state park, where we picked up a mooring, but it was all too rolly for comfort and at 20:30 we decided to move on and motored the extra half an hour around to the anchorage at Port Madison.
Bainbridge Island to Port Townsend (Source: Google Maps)
The next day we were underway again, leaving at a leisurely 12:00 noon. There was a good breeze directly out of the north and the effect of wind against current kicked up a bit of a chop. We motor sailed as close to the wind as possible up to the wonderfully named Point No Point, then sailed across the entrance to Hood Canal and into Port Ludlow.
Whilst in Eagle Harbor, Bainbridge Island, I had completed the construction of my homemade wind vane, and this trip gave us our first chance to try it out. To be honest, it seemed a bit erratic under motor, veering about 45 degrees either side of our intended course, but under sail it appeared successful, holding the intended course really quite well. It was a fairly simple design with a largish plywood vane that pivoted horizontally. This pivot (take from an old compass mounting) was mounted on a horizontal disc that pivoted vertically, allowing one to rotate the disc and point the vane into the wind. The disc was fixed in position with two lines that were fixed to the edge of the disc and could be tied off to small cleats with their other ends. With the vane so positioned that it pointed into the wind on the intended course, any change in either course or wind direction would alter the wind pressure on either side of the vane, causing it to pivot horizontally (roll) to one side or the other. A lead counter weight on a batten extending from the bottom of the vane provided resistance to this movement. On the other end of the horizontal vane pivot, another wooden disc (pulley) was mounted, with a line fixed to it in the middle of the line and that line taking a turn in each direction around the pulley. The two ends of this line were then led through blocks on the wind vane base and two more blocks on each side of the cockpit combing and then to the tiller, where they were tied off. Thus, any rotation of the vane was transferred to the tiller control lines. If the vane rotated (rolled) to the port side, the tiller was pulled to port and the boat headed up into the wind, if it rotated to starboard, the opposite happened. Clearly, this is a very simple structure that lacks any benefits of a servo, relying entirely on the area of the vane to provide the necessary force to control the tiller, but so far it seemed to function :-)
We anchored in Port Ludlow and it wasn't exactly busy there. We were the only boat in the outer anchorage, with a delightful looking large wooden sail boat tucked right up in the inner anchorage, which we paid very little heed to. We later learnt that this was most probably Neil Young's boat, as apparently it's a place where he often anchors. I have no idea if he was on board - we saw neither hide nor hair of him.
After a quick fuel stop at the fuel dock of Port Ludlow marina, we headed on around noon the next day, sailing in the afternoon breeze up to the Port Townsend canal. We motored through and then sailed again with a delightful long-tacked beat up to the entrance to Kilisut Harbor, in the middle of Marrowstone Island. It was a great day of windward sailing. I'd changed the run of the mainsheet and it seemed quite an improvement - giving us much better control of the sail. It was capped off by a close-up sighting of a bald eagle sat on a piling as we sailed into Kilisut Harbor.
Whilst in Eagle Harbor, Bainbridge Island, I had completed the construction of my homemade wind vane, and this trip gave us our first chance to try it out. To be honest, it seemed a bit erratic under motor, veering about 45 degrees either side of our intended course, but under sail it appeared successful, holding the intended course really quite well. It was a fairly simple design with a largish plywood vane that pivoted horizontally. This pivot (take from an old compass mounting) was mounted on a horizontal disc that pivoted vertically, allowing one to rotate the disc and point the vane into the wind. The disc was fixed in position with two lines that were fixed to the edge of the disc and could be tied off to small cleats with their other ends. With the vane so positioned that it pointed into the wind on the intended course, any change in either course or wind direction would alter the wind pressure on either side of the vane, causing it to pivot horizontally (roll) to one side or the other. A lead counter weight on a batten extending from the bottom of the vane provided resistance to this movement. On the other end of the horizontal vane pivot, another wooden disc (pulley) was mounted, with a line fixed to it in the middle of the line and that line taking a turn in each direction around the pulley. The two ends of this line were then led through blocks on the wind vane base and two more blocks on each side of the cockpit combing and then to the tiller, where they were tied off. Thus, any rotation of the vane was transferred to the tiller control lines. If the vane rotated (rolled) to the port side, the tiller was pulled to port and the boat headed up into the wind, if it rotated to starboard, the opposite happened. Clearly, this is a very simple structure that lacks any benefits of a servo, relying entirely on the area of the vane to provide the necessary force to control the tiller, but so far it seemed to function :-)
We anchored in Port Ludlow and it wasn't exactly busy there. We were the only boat in the outer anchorage, with a delightful looking large wooden sail boat tucked right up in the inner anchorage, which we paid very little heed to. We later learnt that this was most probably Neil Young's boat, as apparently it's a place where he often anchors. I have no idea if he was on board - we saw neither hide nor hair of him.
After a quick fuel stop at the fuel dock of Port Ludlow marina, we headed on around noon the next day, sailing in the afternoon breeze up to the Port Townsend canal. We motored through and then sailed again with a delightful long-tacked beat up to the entrance to Kilisut Harbor, in the middle of Marrowstone Island. It was a great day of windward sailing. I'd changed the run of the mainsheet and it seemed quite an improvement - giving us much better control of the sail. It was capped off by a close-up sighting of a bald eagle sat on a piling as we sailed into Kilisut Harbor.
On the way into Kilisut Harbor (note the windvane in the background)
Kilisut was delightful, but we were on a mission; headed out to the ocean. So, at about 10:00 the next morning we were underway again, sailing back out of the hollow Marrowstone Island, past the bald eagle - this time enjoying a meal of its prey - and off in the direction of Port Townsend and Point Wilson above it. There were tidal rips and a current that made the rounding of Point Wilson a slow business and there was some patchy fog hanging about. After rounding the point, we kept inside of Protection Island and then sailed alongside the long sand spit and into Sequim Bay, where we anchored.
The Strait of Juan de Fuca (Source: Google Maps)
Sequim Bay is truly beautiful. It was apparently a favourite haunt of actor John Wayne, who, also apparently, was quite a keen boater, so the marina in Sequim bay is named after him. It's certainly the kind of country scenery that you can imagine him feeling comfortable in.
Alongside the sand spit on the way into Sequim Bay
John Wayne country. Sequim Bay.
It was now getting well into June and we wanted to be out in the Pacific in June to take advantage of the probability of the best conditions. So, the next day (June 10th) we headed out at about 11:00 in light airs and against a tidal current and motorsailed and sailed westwards towards Port Angeles. We arrived about 20:30 that evening in driving rain and tied up to the town dock in what was a rather rolly location. Following the directions on a sign at the dock, we telephoned the local customs office to announce our arrival, but they told us it wasn't necessary.
There was only one other boat tied up at the town dock there, and we were invited over for an evening chat. It was a steel sailing boat, heavily insulated with spray foam, with a couple on board who were heading for the deep South Pacific and Antarctica. If I remember correctly, it was their intention to sail non-stop from there to Pitcairn Island - quite a journey!! They were heavily laden with all sorts of fishing equipment and certainly intended to be self-sufficient for a considerable while.
There was only one other boat tied up at the town dock there, and we were invited over for an evening chat. It was a steel sailing boat, heavily insulated with spray foam, with a couple on board who were heading for the deep South Pacific and Antarctica. If I remember correctly, it was their intention to sail non-stop from there to Pitcairn Island - quite a journey!! They were heavily laden with all sorts of fishing equipment and certainly intended to be self-sufficient for a considerable while.
The town dock - Port Angeles
And then something weird happened. The next morning our engine wouldn't start - it wouldn't even turn over - the battery was as flat as a pancake! Unfortunately there was no electricity available at the town dock there in Port Angeles, so we hadn't been plugged in to shore power and so the battery charger hadn't been on overnight, but still, we'd been motoring the day before and so the batteries should have been being charged. It was a fairly old battery that had been in the boat when I bought it, so I decided it had probably died a sudden death, and we asked about to find the nearest auto parts store where we could buy a new battery.
It turned out there was one just a couple of miles up the road, so we set off on foot to walk up to the store. That was easy enough, and we bought a new battery without difficulty, but now we had to walk the way back to the boat with a car battery to carry! And, what was worse, the auto parts store wanted the old battery returned to them for proper disposal (quite correct, of course), which meant a possible walk back there with the old battery and another unladen stroll back to the boat after that. However, we hadn't reckoned with the delightful people of the West Coast. We hadn't gone more than 100 yards from the store with our new battery in hand before a pick-up truck pulled over and the lady driver offered us a lift to our destination - this was entirely of her own accord; we weren't hitch-hiking; she just saw us walking with the battery and offered help. And when she found out about the return of the old battery, she immediately offered to run it back to the store for us.
When that was all done, I fitted the new battery and the engine span over and started first go. We were planning to head out in the afternoon in order to attempt the first overnight leg of our journey to arrive at our next intended destination of Neah Bay, right on the northwest tip of Washington State, in daylight hours. It was a distance of some 60 nautical miles as the crow flies, so would take us at least 15 hours, we reckoned, and so, in order to avoid arrival at a strange location in darkness, it seemed best to set off in the late afternoon and arrive sometime the next morning.
With the new battery fitted and everthing else prepared, we headed out at about 16:00 into the Straits of Juan de Fuca and turned onto our course slightly north of west. We sailed initially, but the wind gradually diminished, leaving us motor sailing and then motoring through occasional rain showers, dodging the tree trunks floating all over the place. When night fell, we did 3 hour watches - one in the cockpit, hand steering; one in the v-berth, sleeping - and the night passed without event. We arrived at Neah Bay at about 10:00 the next morning, where we found a good spot, dropped the hook and made breakfast. It was quite a feeling - this was the westward end of the Straits of Juan de Fuca - the end of the relatively protected waters. The next step was out and around Cape Flattery into the Pacific!
It turned out there was one just a couple of miles up the road, so we set off on foot to walk up to the store. That was easy enough, and we bought a new battery without difficulty, but now we had to walk the way back to the boat with a car battery to carry! And, what was worse, the auto parts store wanted the old battery returned to them for proper disposal (quite correct, of course), which meant a possible walk back there with the old battery and another unladen stroll back to the boat after that. However, we hadn't reckoned with the delightful people of the West Coast. We hadn't gone more than 100 yards from the store with our new battery in hand before a pick-up truck pulled over and the lady driver offered us a lift to our destination - this was entirely of her own accord; we weren't hitch-hiking; she just saw us walking with the battery and offered help. And when she found out about the return of the old battery, she immediately offered to run it back to the store for us.
When that was all done, I fitted the new battery and the engine span over and started first go. We were planning to head out in the afternoon in order to attempt the first overnight leg of our journey to arrive at our next intended destination of Neah Bay, right on the northwest tip of Washington State, in daylight hours. It was a distance of some 60 nautical miles as the crow flies, so would take us at least 15 hours, we reckoned, and so, in order to avoid arrival at a strange location in darkness, it seemed best to set off in the late afternoon and arrive sometime the next morning.
With the new battery fitted and everthing else prepared, we headed out at about 16:00 into the Straits of Juan de Fuca and turned onto our course slightly north of west. We sailed initially, but the wind gradually diminished, leaving us motor sailing and then motoring through occasional rain showers, dodging the tree trunks floating all over the place. When night fell, we did 3 hour watches - one in the cockpit, hand steering; one in the v-berth, sleeping - and the night passed without event. We arrived at Neah Bay at about 10:00 the next morning, where we found a good spot, dropped the hook and made breakfast. It was quite a feeling - this was the westward end of the Straits of Juan de Fuca - the end of the relatively protected waters. The next step was out and around Cape Flattery into the Pacific!
Sunset on the way to Neah Bay
Neah Bay was fantastic - a breathtakingly beautiful place. It's part of a reservation owned by the Makah Native Americans and has really quite a remote feeling about it, being right out on the northwest tip of mainland USA. The sunsets there are extraordinary as the sun sets over the Pacific Ocean with no land between there and, basically, Japan. It was very quiet there. We were one of very few boats anchored out, and there was a small dock that was used by sports fishing boats, mainly owned by local Native Americans, I believe. In the evenings, fish would start rising and jumping out of the water and ospreys would start hunting the fish, swooping down and grabbing them in their talons. It was magical to just sit on the aft deck, with a glass of wine, and watch it all.
We stayed there for 5 days. We went ashore and wandered around a bit, and generally lapped up the atmosphere. On one of our wanderings ashore, we made our way around to the fish cleaning dock. Two local men had just come in from a fishing trip off the west coast of Vancouver Island. They had a wheelbarrow with 4 enormous halibut that were so big that they hung over the edges of the wheelbarrow, and they were in the process of cleaning and filletting the fish. I asked them if they'd sell us a piece of the fish, but they replied that, as sports fishermen, selling the fish was illegal and so they couldn't. I guess I looked disappointed because, the next thing I knew, one of them cut off a large fillet from the tail of one of the fish and gave it to us! We cooked and ate it that evening and it was one of the best pieces of fish I have ever eaten - absolutely delicious!
We stayed there for 5 days. We went ashore and wandered around a bit, and generally lapped up the atmosphere. On one of our wanderings ashore, we made our way around to the fish cleaning dock. Two local men had just come in from a fishing trip off the west coast of Vancouver Island. They had a wheelbarrow with 4 enormous halibut that were so big that they hung over the edges of the wheelbarrow, and they were in the process of cleaning and filletting the fish. I asked them if they'd sell us a piece of the fish, but they replied that, as sports fishermen, selling the fish was illegal and so they couldn't. I guess I looked disappointed because, the next thing I knew, one of them cut off a large fillet from the tail of one of the fish and gave it to us! We cooked and ate it that evening and it was one of the best pieces of fish I have ever eaten - absolutely delicious!
Neah Bay sunsets
Halibut fishermen, Neah Bay
Of course, enjoying the atmosphere and scenery wasn't the only reason we stayed for 5 days in Neah Bay - we were waiting for the "weather window" to go out and around the corner and into the Pacific.
