Category Archives: Cruising Life

Ten Days in Pictures

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Sometimes I want to post things to the blog but there is literally so much happening it’s hard to titrate it down to an acceptable dose of words. Then there is the persnickity WordPress that has been giving me fits. Mike finally had time to address the computer issue, so here is 10 days +/- in photos.

Last week we got help from fellow cruisers Stephanie and David Gardiner of S/V Cambria. Here is Stephanie towing us to the dock with the ripped headsail in their bigger, better dinghy. Thanks, Cambrians!

While in Port Ludlow we saw this fabulous miniature cruiser, a vintage 1960’s Mirror Offshore, imported from England. It’s called Bluebird and the owners bring it up from Santa Cruz, California in the summer to spend the season up here. It’s absolutely darling.

We stayed at Port Ludlow a couple of days, then sailed on to Port Townsend. At Port Townsend Mike was so pleased to receive a package addressed to him at ‘general delivery’.  Why does this make him so happy? I have no idea. But it does. He’s received two packages this way. Technically this is my package since my new offshore Spinlock PFD is inside.

Port Townsend was too windy to anchor pleasantly so we sailed across to Mystery Bay, so named because it’s a mystery how you get inside without running aground. The answer is: pay extra close attention to the charts and the markers. The channel is well marked. Believe the channel markers and your charts. Otherwise, if you have a deep draft boat, you’ll be on the sand.

We got an opportunity to use the removable inner forestay and a little storm sail we’ve kept for years. This little sail alone gave us 2 knots and steerage.

Mystery Bay is home to the Nordland General Store and this shellfish company. You can take a very long, hot walk along the one road.

There are many seals inside the bay and it’s nursery time. This baby was left in the tender care of Galapagos’ hull while momma seal went off to hunt. We heard him crying through the hull. It was strangely disturbing. He still had his little umbilical cord. Eventually mom came back, much to our relief. He kept nosing the rope snubber, then turning upside down and mouthing the hull like he was rooting for milk. As motherly as Galapagos is, she had nothing to offer the little guy and his cries were more than a bit heartbreaking.

We anchored very close to this piece of driftwood, which I think looks like a seal with ears sunning with its tail in the air. Possibly you might see something different.

Ft. Flagler State Park is a lovely place to walk along the beach. We anchored just outside the park boundary, behind the mooring balls. There is plenty of room for a boat or two before the shallow water catches your stern. Be advised there is always heavy current there, and it seems to always flow into the bay. You will get lots of grass and weed hanging onto your anchor chain and possibly your rudder. Check your prop before you turn on the engine. Also, if you are lucky, you’ll get to babysit a tiny seal.

On my beach walk I came upon this sad sight. Another day has gone by and this boat is still there.

I got a new camera and somehow I must have put it on a strange and wonderful setting. When I loaded the photos, this appeared. Can you find Galapagos? 

And this one, too. see her at anchor in Port Townsend?

Today we retrieved our sail and will update with a post about that later. We’re ready to head across the Strait of Juan de Fuca tomorrow! The islands are calling us. Also whales!

 

   

 

Nike Therapy

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When we were planning this shindig cruise/sail/travel thing, we read all the common wisdom from others who had gone before us. ‘Set a date’, some said. ‘Your boat doesn’t have to be perfect! Don’t fall into that trap!”, said others.  We’ve met a lot of people who have this dream and it never comes to fruition because let’s face it: staying is a lot easier than going. Lots of people make all these plans and never leave the dock.

You get this view at the north end of Colvos Passage

Well, I’ll tell you. We didn’t have much trouble leaving the dock. I mean, we had to. We couldn’t afford to stay and keep paying the price of moorage. So ‘leaving the dock’ was just a necessity unless we wanted to go back to work. Leaving the southern part of Puget Sound, however, has been harder than we reckoned for. In the end, we had to practice what I’ve come to term ‘Nike Therapy’. I started using that term with my counseling and coaching clients when we’d come to a place where excuses would no longer work and there was failure to move forward. You know the marketing hype Nike has: “Just do it.” That’s all. You just get off your ass and do it. Yeah, it’s not always easy but sometimes it’s the only solution. And that’s how we came to finally attain ‘escape velocity’ and get the hell out of Gig Harbor. I’m not saying the time was perfect, and our boat certainly isn’t perfect, but the time was here. It was time to ‘just do it’ and get moving.

At the end of our first day we  anchored right next to SV Cambria at Port Ludow. We had a pretty terrific day with speeds of 8.5 knots toodling up Colvos Passage. Then a stop at Shilshole Marina in Seattle where we topped off the diesel and water tanks, had an excellent visit with friends Lee Youngblood and Kathleen Scott Davis, then executed an absolutely flawless ‘get off the dock in high winds that are pushing you into the dock’ maneuver. Dang I was glad that turned out so well! Everyone knows how I feel about maneuvering this boat in marinas.

Point No Point

Still high from our visit to Shilshole we had a ripping good sail almost all the way to Port Ludlow. Great wind, tacking tracks to be proud of on the GPS, and we both began to get our ‘sailing’ legs back. It’s been awhile but the body remembers.  Oh, yes. It sure does. It remembers things like how hard it is to climb up that companionway ladder at a 15 degree heel; how things slide off the workbench and onto the floor, how cooking at an angle is a bit of a challenge, that there’s a reason why all our drawers and cabinets have latches, and the fact that our cockpit is set up for motoring and dockside living. Not sailing. Decidedly not sailing. However, the words ‘ripping sail’ here also refers to what happened to our genoa as we approached Foul Weather Bluff.

You know what I hate? I hate when I say things out loud like, “Geez, Mike, I sure wish there had been time to tend to that tiny issue with fabric on the genoa before we left.” Because when the universe hears those words, suddenly time for that very thing is manifested! So this morning we will take the headsail down and examine the sacrificial cloth on the leach; the cloth that has now been sacrificed to the spreaders. We’re not sure about the damage yet. It’s too bad I couldn’t take a photo, but I was too busy minding the steering and helping Mike get the sail under control as he pulled it in. Oh sailing. Sheer bliss that, in a moment, turns into sheer terror. It’s why we love it.

We took this in stride, grateful it happened now, in a place where we can get it fixed or get another sail or whatever needs to happen. It’s very nice not to be stressed about it, and to know that this isn’t a vacation that was just ruined. Being stuck in Port Townsend for a few days will not come amiss. We were in good spirits as I went on deck to secure the halyards that were rattling.

The other mountains. The Olympics.

So I’m up on deck minding my own halyard-securing business when suddenly a Coast Guard boat comes absolutely screaming around Foul Weather Bluff, lights flashing, siren blaring, rooster tail flying. I thought there must be some terrible emergency somewhere until I realized they were bearing down upon Galapagos at an alarming speed. Screeching to a halt close by in the power-boat rendition of a skid,   they yell into their megaphone, “SAILBOAT! STOP! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”. I almost wet myself. So many scenarios go through your mind at a time like that; a time when a machine gun is literally pointed at your boat for no good reason at all. I’m literally turning in circles on the deck looking at the surrounding area for something I’ve missed that could be causing these people to act like heathens.

I yell back (because they didn’t even have the grace to hail us on the radio) “Port Ludlow!”, but that was lost in the wind and they screamed at us again, “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”. At this point I’m wondering if someone needed to go back to kindergarten to learn some manners and my hands are just that close to begin on my hips. I’m also ready to admit that it’s possible I do have a tiny library fine outstanding, and yes, I’m guilty of driving our boat on the wrong side of that last red channel marker (are they giving tickets now for that, too?)  and one time I may have scooted under a traffic light just as it was turning red. Maybe Mike stocked an illegal amount of beer on the boat?  I promise I’ll never do (fill in the blank here) again if they’ll just let me go this time.

I scream back at them, louder and with more emphasis, if not attitude, “PORT LUDLOW!!”. They lower the gun. I have given the correct answer and will not die today. Now they instruct us a little more calmly that we’ll need to slow down so that this big assed submarine and its bully boat escorts can pass in front of us. Yeah, apparently our big sailboat was going too fast. (Laughing my ass off!) Hey, no problem! We’re happy to do that. I’m giving them the ‘thumbs up’ signal all the way back to the cockpit. Hell, we’ll even drop anchor right here right now in the shadow of Foul Weather Bluff if you’ll just go away and leave us in peace.

There they are.

I have a great deal of respect for the Coast Guard and understand they have an important and sometimes dangerous job. On the whole this was a humorous encounter. But really? Is this necessary? Is there some reason for terrorizing pleasure boaters going at a cool 5 knots? Hail me on the radio next time, Coast Guard. Or at least don’t treat us like criminals. Okay? Sure ‘preciate it. Also,  I’d like to send you a bill for my laundry.

We’re in Port Ludlow for today and part of tomorrow. Then on to Port Townsend the day after that. We’ve got no plans. Just taking things as they come.

Sailing Vessel Galapagos, out.

When the mountain is veiled in pink.

We’re A Cruising Blog…What the..What?

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One of our long-time readers made a comment recently. He said, ” Now that’s a cruising blog post!”. Such a simple comment, but such a moment that shifted my consciousness. It’s true! This is no longer the ‘planning to cruise’ blog it’s been for 5 years. It’s now a real live ‘we’re cruising’ blog. So strange and wonderful.

Dodging the cute little boats during one of the many sailboat races in Olympia.

I’ve been thinking about the word ‘cruisers’ lately. We have a lot of time to think about things like that now.  You know, that word has never really set well with me. I think it’s because of my age. When that word first came into the local vernacular, I didn’t think ‘cruising’ was something to aspire to. Cruisers were people who drove their cars down the boulevard in the heart of the town, hair gelled back, cigarettes hanging out of their mouths, one hand on the wheel, looking for trouble. They ‘cruised’ the road, usually late at night, windows down, sound blaring, yelling at friends on the sidewalk and other passers by.  They were like wound springs, running on tension, waiting for a scene from American Graffiti, or worse. They were right on the razors edge of the law. Cruisers made me nervous. You never knew what they were going to do next.

Sure, they’re having fun. Until someone falls out of that car. These guys make me nervous!

Is that what we are? Are we spending our last gasp of young-enough going from anchorage to anchorage, looking for fun and excitement, if not a run-in with the law? Are we laid back, and gelled up? Has our ‘cruiser casual’ already gone too far? So far the most excitement we’ve had is a group of four Egyptian college students who shyly asked if they could come aboard and have their picture made with Galapagos. Now THAT was fun. Of course, I said yes. And they did and it was a great prelude to what we hope will be many fun encounters with people from completely different lands who are as curious about us as we are about them.

The closest we’ve had to a run-in with law enforcement is when we decide to stay a little longer than is absolutely proper at the public dock, because we’re having too much fun with friends to leave. Or maybe it was the time we anchored in the bay close to the work dock in Olympia. I mean, there were no signs saying we couldn’t do it. Security came by the next morning and ran us off, but too late, Mr. Man! We already spent a peaceful night. We’re back to our renegade youth when rules seemed more flexible than they probably are and asking for forgiveness is easier than asking for permission. These small run-ins used to stress me out. Now it’s just, ‘yes sir, moving right along, sir, three bags full, sir’. Then we finish breakfast before pulling up anchor. No one wants to make trouble. Not security men, and not middle aged sailboat anchorers. We are all out there just doing our jobs. Theirs is to say something to us. Ours is to let them say it, be agreeable,  and move on.

Egyptian students. We were pleased to take their photo on the boat.

Come to think of it, people who are not in the world of boating don’t always understand what you mean when you say ‘We’re cruisers’. If you consult any of what passes for a  dictionary in these times of communication by tweet,  the first definition you’ll find is ‘one who cruises’, which is no help at all and besides, isn’t there some kind of rule about using a form of the word in the definition of that word? I believe I learned that in third grade. Seems kind of basic to me. Where is the Oxford English Dictionary when I need it?

Then you’ll get definitions such as of ‘small war ship’, or ‘motor boat that is big enough to live on’, or ‘police car’ or ‘large motorcycle that cruises’. Nowhere is there a definition on the order of ‘people who go at a tortoise’s pace from place to place on their sailboat just having fun and looking for laundry facilities and free water’. So I’m trying to think of another word that would describe this ‘cruising life’ we lead now. Traveler? We certainly aspire to be ‘voyagers’, but we can’t call ourselves that yet. Explorer? Nomad? Those are over-used. Drifter? I certainly hope not. That has it’s own connotations, probably those from the depression era. Sailor? Maybe. But that doesn’t capture the whole thing. There are many sailors who are not cruisers.

Trying the Sup Board at the home of friends. We can see the draw. It’s kind of fun in an ‘oh god please don’t let me fall in’ kind of way.

Maybe we need to make up a word. Its definition would be: people who travel by boat, on purpose, looking for life to be full of interesting and entertaining happenings, good people, good coffee, good night’s sleep, and good weather. Or maybe just: People who travel by sailboat, leading a life that’s full. Got a word for that? Bring it.

And while you’re here: Do you, or someone you know, want to be ‘cruisers’? And if so, have you been looking at Galapagos with an eye to having a boat like this sometime? ( I mean, why wouldn’t you? She’s pretty great.) You’re in luck. A sister ship has just come up for sale down in Florida. SV Gromit is for sale again. Just back from the Caribbean, she’s ready to go again and make your own. Here’s a link to her For Sale page.  There are not many of these Olympic Adventure 47’s available in North America. If you are looking for a stout boat that can take you anywhere, give her a look. And as fellow owners, we’ll be there to give you a sounding board and the benefit of our experience as you make her your own.

SV Gromit