Tag Archives: Sailing

Swan Song

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Mike and I spent 2 1/2 days aboard Moonrise this weekend, sailing up to Blaine to do a delivery for some new boat owners. The boat we delivered? Moonrise. That’s right, she finally found the perfect new owners and as part of the deal, we agreed to sail her up to Blaine, WA from her home slip in Tacoma.

Long term readers will know we’ve had Moonrise on the market for about 2 years and until recently, no serious buyers came forward.  No one, not our brokers, not potential buyers, could tell us why she was still sitting on the market. But we knew there must be a reason that had nothing to do with the boat or the price. She is a well kept boat, cleaner than most boats on the market, and she was reasonably priced.

Just north of Seattle, Mike checks the wind vane. Or maybe he is praying to the weather gods.

The reason became clear on the day we bought Andromeda. Apparently the Universe was waiting until we had found the perfect boat for out next adventure before it would allow us to release Moonrise into someone else’s care. The Universe knows we would hate being boatless. On the very day we closed on the loan for Andromeda and she became legally ours, we showed Moonrise to Stephan and Anita, a sailing couple from Vancouver, B.C. They had owned sailboats before and had been trying to get down to Tacoma to see Moonrise for a couple of months but the timing had never been right. They fell in love with her. I knew after they left that these were the new owners. I just felt it, and I was right. They soon made the offer and arranged to have her surveyed.  And lucky thing for them, too, because since that day we’ve had all kinds of interest in her. We actually had a waiting list of people interested in case the sale fell through for any reason. Wierd times!

Who’s that tapping with his little hammer? Yes, it’s our favorite marine surveyor and all round good guy, Tony Allport. He gave Moonrise the ‘thumbs up’ after she passed her tests.

The buying of Andromeda before the selling of Moonrise created a bit of a stir among those who read the blog, those who know us, and those voices of “common sense” in our own minds. But consider this: There is a kind of ‘knowing’ that is purely beyond the realm of logic. This kind of knowing doesn’t look good on paper. Numbers do not necessarily add up, things do not appear to make good sense in the realm of the physical world. People think you are crazy, when what you are really doing is following the heart that is speaking to you. Somewhere inside is a small, quiet voice, a lantern in the dark, that whispers, ‘This is the way to go. Go this way.’  And so you do. And it comes to pass, just as though someone planned it that way. You step into a stream of life energy and when it’s the right thing, it simply carries you along like a leaf on the current. This was the feeling we had in this entire process. No real questions, just some solid faith that we were making the right choice for us and it was our job to allow the story line to unfold.

I’d like to say we made the offer to sail Moonrise to Blaine because we are generous and kind and wanted to sweeten the pot for the deal. But that would be only partly true. We made the offer because it gave us one more chance to have a long weekend aboard a much-loved boat, to feel the water under her keel one last time, to allow her to shine on the sea and surf down a wave once more with us at the helm. Sure, we were glad to help Anita and Stephan out, but what we really wanted was one more chance to say goodbye.

The Port Townsend cut. Will Andromeda be able to go underneath this bridge? We are not sure yet. This was the calm before the storm.

And what a terrific trip it was! Mother nature threw all of what she had at us this weekend, from wind, to a little rain, to sunny skies and tall seas. We anchored for the first night at Port Hadlock and settled down for a calm and secure evening, only to hear the wind begin to scream through the rigging, and feel the boat bouncing and tugging at anchor. The weather report had changed and we were in for a rough night of 30 knot winds, but the anchor held fast. No one got much sleep, and I remember thinking if this didn’t make us seasick, surely nothing would. Mike slept in the salon so that he could get up regularly and check the anchor, but I believe he got the better end of that deal as I was in the forward berth being slammed to heck and back. We were so glad we had decided on Port Hadlock rather than our usual Port Townsend anchorage, which would have been so much worse.

This is my ‘Ralphie’ look. Wool long johns, polypropylene over that, then a one piece fleece sailing suit, then my foulies and jacket. Two hats. Oh, and hand and boot warmers. It takes me 20 minutes to use the head. Stadium pal, anyone?

Saturday dawned bright and beautiful with blue skies and warm temperatures and we started across the Strait of Juan de Fuca off the coast of Whidbey Island.  The seas were confused and rough after the previous night’s storm. With no wind at all, we motored through 8 foot swells, coming close together and growling with foam. Mike was trying to get a little sleep in the cabin. Ha! That was not going to happen. In the middle of the strait another storm system was blowing in from the coast and the winds increased, temperatures dropping about 10 degrees. With winds clocking around 30 knots according to the radio, we had a small headsail flying and skittered down waves at 9.5 knots, grinning like demons. In spite of the big waves and spray, it was some of the best sailing we’ve had in a long time. Moonrise was in her element and the weather gods were smiling on us, leaving us with the wind and swells, but dumping the rain somewhere else.

Those are the San Juan Islands ahead. What a glorious day! Why do photos never accurately show the sea state?

With wind and tide pushing us from behind, we soared up Rosario Strait, feeling particularly fortunate the wind and currents were in our favor.  But it was getting late in the day and more high wind from the West Southwest was expected that night so we needed a place to anchor for the evening. Doe Bay offers the only protection from that wind direction on that side of Orcas Island. We set a course and found a reasonable anchorage just north of the park, surrounded by private mooring balls with nobody on them. After dinner and a game of Scrabble, we were both pooped and went to bed early. We had a quiet night and slept deeply, one last night in our comfortable big v-berth.

Sunrise. Yes, it’s really that monochromatic, for those who don’t live here.

And now a little more light.

Wanting to catch the tide going up the strait, we were underway in the dark by 5:30 am with 20 knots of wind behind us and big following seas. There’s nothing like hanging ten down the front of a wave, foam flying, only to be lifted by the next one. We flew out into the Strait of Georgia just as the sun was coming up, thanking the gods that we were going in the right direction and not trying to beat to weather. We made record time into Blaine and Moonrise performed perfectly under sail.

Beautiful day on the Strait of Georgia. Orcas Island behind us.

The only bad part of the trip was trying to get docked in the Blaine marina in about 40 knots of wind. No kidding, the wind was just screaming. I had to gun the engine going through the entrance to the marina for fear the wind would blow Moonrise into the concrete barriers if she went too slowly. We bulleted through the entrance at a brisk 4 knots. To get docked I had to keep the throttle at full reverse to keep the boat from being blown into the boat in front of us. And that was INSIDE the protected marina. We were both pretty stressed out by that time and just glad to have her safely tied off. We love being on the water in those conditions, but being in a marina with high winds kind of sucks. I couldn’t help being a little stressed out about learning to handle a much larger vessel in tight quarters.

Love this photo, except for that little green water spot on the lens. Still, maybe it’s a luminescent sea creature?

Claire drove up from Tacoma to collect us and our personal items from the boat, and Anita and Stephan drove down from Vancouver to finished the deal. They will be berthing Moonrise in Vancouver where they can learn to sail her at their leisure. They are very excited to have her and we are very happy to have found new owners who will take her to the Gulf Islands and explore the coast of British Columbia. Moonrise will show them all of her old haunts!

Happy boat buyers!

It was important to us to sell our boat to someone who would use her the way she was intended to be used and not let her languish at the dock.  We are excited for Anita and Stephan and know they are just the people we were looking for. We look forward to seeing photos of Moonrise at a beautiful anchorage next summer and hope they will stay in touch. Maybe we will meet them in a beautiful anchorage sometime in the future and we can give the old girl a pat and a little kiss from us.  Bon voyage, Moonrise. We shed tears as we say goodbye to you. You will be in our hearts forever, with thanks for all the adventures and learning.

Anita, looking excited as she puts their foul weather gear in the hanging locker. That’s a good expression on a new boat owner’s face!

Mike ‘splains the finer points of the GPS to Stephan and Anita.

Have wonderful times on this good boat, Anita and Stephan! Fair winds and following seas to you all!

 

 

 

Water and Light

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There is something about a lighthouse that makes me want to move in. Perhaps it is the eternal romantic in me, but I would totally love to experience living out on a big rock overlooking the sea. (First…. get a million dollars…) Some of the lighthouses I’ve seen are actually short and squat, but I would want one of the tall skinny light houses.  I would gladly walk up a narrow metal winding staircase to get to the view at the top. There I would keep a kerosene stove, a comfortable couch with plump pillows and cozy throws, a low table, a library, and a lamp. I would be completely content for a long period of time. No doubt the reality would be different than my fantasy, but maybe not… I can imagine a lot of things.

So although pretty much everyone with even a phone camera takes photos of lighthouses, I did, too. And here they are. (You can add them to your Pinterest page by allowing your mouse to hover toward the top of the photo, watching for the magic Pinterst logo to appear. How cool is that?) Our rocky coastline is lousy with light houses, some of which are still useful for keeping ships from dying on rocks. All of them, though, are rich fantasy material.

Lighthouse at Dungeness Spit with the Olympic Mountains singing backup.

Approaching Victoria.

Racing around Race Rocks.

A better one of Race Rocks, near Victoria. Crazy currents.

Patos Island and Mt. Baker

May all of your best fantasies come true!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fire

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For the first time ever during an extended trip, we had no rain. There were a few misty mornings, but rain never fell and for this we were grateful. Not that we couldn’t have found things to do in the cabin, but the glory of waking up early to a sunny day and having coffee in the cockpit, then sitting in the same cockpit to watch the sunset, is unparalleled in my experience. Sunshine all day long with temperatures in the comfortable to low-simmer range is just my idea of happiness. If I can be warm in the shade, life is good.

The star of the day’s sun show is always at the end. Like the final display at a Fourth of July fireworks, Mother Nature saves the best for last. Here are the sunset photos that captured that moment the best.

 D’Arcy Island

D’Arcy Island is small, off the southern tip of Sidney Island, and used to be a leper colony. Last year we enjoyed anchoring in a cove off the west side, but that side was too exposed to the wind this year. We chose the north side, between two reefs. We were tired from the challenging weather we had encountered in the Strait of Juan de Fuca, followed by hair-raising anchoring in Sooke Harbor (when we discovered our chart was not adequate to that shoal area). We wanted a rest and finally felt like we had actually ‘arrived’ somewhere.  We never got off the boat, content to rest and relax, read and sleep. I think that’s what can happen when you are somewhere you’ve been before. The drive to explore has already been satisfied.

North side of D’Arcy Island

Penelakut Island and Thetis Island

It’s hard to say enough good things about Penelakut Island (formerly Kuper Island). It has everything I love: warm water (well, warm-ish…), sandstone and pebble beaches, tidepools, large smooth rocks, eagles, and views. We anchored off the west side of the island, away from the protected coves that draw 99% of the boaters even on a crowded weekend. In fine weather, there is no reason to run for the cover of a shallow cove and anchor with the herd. The reward is privacy, and this blazing sunset.

Penelakut Island, west side

Separating Penelakut and Thetis Islands on the east side is Clam Bay, a large bay with good anchoring depths throughout. It offers one of the only large and protected anchorages on that side of land for several miles. It is connected to Telegraph Cove on the west side by ‘the cut’, a channel of shallow water that allows small boats to pass through. We chose to explore the cut by dingy and kayak.

Image from Fisheries and Oceans Canada

At Clam Bay I had my first experience of having to say ‘no’ to someone going from boat to boat to sell hand made crafts. Penelakut Island is owned by the Penelakut tribe. One evening a young man of this tribe paddled his canoe/kayak up to the boat and asked permission to tie up. He was selling lovely wooden animals, carved in his tribe’s tradition. He had some nice ravens, and a beautiful salmon. Alas, not only did we not have cash on hand, but we are not acquiring new decorative items for either the boat or the home. I had to say ‘no thank you’. We had a nice conversation whereby he told me he had three children, and he and his wife had just purchased their house, ahead of his older sister who had only recently married. He seemed pleased that he had managed to win this sibling competition. He had carved some of the objects, and his father had carved others. His oldest child, a girl of 8 years, had recently announced that she, too, wanted to learn carving. I hated to say no to him, but he took it gracefully and went on to the next boat.  I hope he sold them all.

Clam Bay, Penelakut and Thetis Islands, east side. This is the true color of the sky. Brilliant rose pink for miles.

Patos Island

Patos Island is part of the San Juan Islands, so it’s on the American side. I’m glad, as it makes it that much easier to plan a trip back. If I could just get the boat up to Bellingham to stay in a marina up there,  we could make the leap to the islands so much easier.  It’s an idea we are toying with for our next boat.

Patos Island, looking up into the  Strait of Georgia

And this one from the same place. Strange effect with the camera’s mirror makes this look like it’s an alien planet.

There are so many different land masses in this area that it’s unusual to get to see the sun actually set on the horizon. Maybe this is what it’s like out at sea where there is nothing to interfere with the view. Anchored off the north side of Patos Island we could see far up the Strait of Georgia until it looked like the land stopped.  When we awoke in the morning, there was fog shrouding the land, but over the water it was clear, a strange looking phenomenon that happened several times during our trip.  It  was as though Moonrise were anchored at the edge of a great sea, the possibilities endless.

Looking back over this post I heave a big sigh and think it’s already time to go back. I wonder what it is like up there in the winter? Perhaps we will find out.