We enjoyed a lazy start this morning. Vi made omelets to help us use up leftovers and avocados. We headed around the bend to Winter Harbour afterward, expecting to find a small store with fresh produce and hot showers. Instead we found a deserted town and a sign that said their hours are 4:30 to 6:30p. Ha! Those are the kind of hours I’d keep if I was a shop owner. I guess with so few boats around, there’s no one around to stay open for in May.
The cruise to our next anchorage in Quatsino Sound was brief and pleasant. The water was relatively smooth compared to yesterday and we even shook out jib to see if we could get some push from behind, but the winds were so fluky it was a lost cause. One minute we’re heeled over with 25 knots and the next they’re coming from another direction at 2 knots. Needless to say, the mountains around us were generating a lot of turbulence.
The other remarkable item of note for this day is cell phone coverage. It was completely unexpected - we’ve had no coverage since leaving Port Hardy. But a casual inspection of a map of Vancouver Island shows that Quatsino Sound heads inland toward Port Hardy and is actually not that far away from it. We’re probably picking up their cell towers.
Kevin is hard at work making Indian food as I write and it is with his hotspot that this message will be sent. According to him, we’ll be having mud on rice for dinner. We can’t wait.
Wednesday, May 24, 2017
Quijote Snoozers
Thankfully the winds were less than 10 knots on our way down the coast today. We departed as planned at 5am making use of first light. Unfortunately that exactly coincided with low tide, so we had to pick our way carefully out of Sea Otter Cove with about a foot to spare beneath our keel.
It was a pretty rough day, even with winds on the light side of the 10-20 knots predicted. A couple feet of chop on top of six feet or so of ocean swell made a glorious mess of the seas. It was a little wet and uncomfortable at times, but Quijote Crew soldiered on and made it to North Harbour in Quatsino Sound in almost exactly four hours. It was a good thing we started early. The wind kicked up to over twenty knots as we entered the inlet and has been blowing hard all afternoon, 35-45 out where we were this morning if the predictions hold.
Now all that remains is the hunker. We tore off wet clothes, cranked up the heat, and made tomato soup for lunch before a satisfying nap.
It was a pretty rough day, even with winds on the light side of the 10-20 knots predicted. A couple feet of chop on top of six feet or so of ocean swell made a glorious mess of the seas. It was a little wet and uncomfortable at times, but Quijote Crew soldiered on and made it to North Harbour in Quatsino Sound in almost exactly four hours. It was a good thing we started early. The wind kicked up to over twenty knots as we entered the inlet and has been blowing hard all afternoon, 35-45 out where we were this morning if the predictions hold.
Now all that remains is the hunker. We tore off wet clothes, cranked up the heat, and made tomato soup for lunch before a satisfying nap.
The Mad Dash for Quatsino
There was deliberation this morning. A weather system is moving into the Canadian coast tomorrow, bringing high winds. For a while all we could get was a weather forecast from Prince Rupert, which didn’t include the west coast of Vancouver Island, but what it did talk about was forty knot winds as far south as Queen Charlotte Sound, where we were. We debated the merits of hunkering down vs running south while the weather is still good.
In the end, we did finally catch a forecast that included the west coast of Vancouver Island and it told us that getting around Cape Scott would be easy, but tomorrow afternoon the weather would catch up with us. So the plan was to make hay getting around Cape Scott, The northernmost point on Vancouver Island, skip Guise Bay, and anchor in the next day’s cove, Sea Otter Cove. That will allow us to get up bright and early tomorrow morning and make a dash for Quatsino Sound where there’s ample protection. We’ll arrive early enough in the day to hopefully miss most of the high winds that are forecasted.
We have a couple days planned for Quatsino, plus the extra day that we didn’t spend on the way down, so that should allow us to hunker down until the weather passes and we can make our way around the Brooks Peninsula. South of the Brooks, they say, the weather turns tropical by comparison to the north end of the Island. We’ll see.
With that, we’re in Sea Otter Cove tonight and we had a lovely day getting here. The north coast was wild and the rolling waves coming in off the Pacific Ocean were big, big enough for me anyway. Two to three meter seas rolled underneath us and continued on to the rocky coast line. We could see them crashing most of the way, especially outside the entrance to our cove. We had to trust our sources, trust our route, and squeeze through a narrow, rolling kelp clogged passageway to get into the bay and through shallow water to the four mooring buoys.
Thankfully all went as planned and we’re in, on our own for another night. The buoys look like they’d hold a cruise ship in a hurricane. Not that a cruise ship could get in here.
In the end, we did finally catch a forecast that included the west coast of Vancouver Island and it told us that getting around Cape Scott would be easy, but tomorrow afternoon the weather would catch up with us. So the plan was to make hay getting around Cape Scott, The northernmost point on Vancouver Island, skip Guise Bay, and anchor in the next day’s cove, Sea Otter Cove. That will allow us to get up bright and early tomorrow morning and make a dash for Quatsino Sound where there’s ample protection. We’ll arrive early enough in the day to hopefully miss most of the high winds that are forecasted.
We have a couple days planned for Quatsino, plus the extra day that we didn’t spend on the way down, so that should allow us to hunker down until the weather passes and we can make our way around the Brooks Peninsula. South of the Brooks, they say, the weather turns tropical by comparison to the north end of the Island. We’ll see.
With that, we’re in Sea Otter Cove tonight and we had a lovely day getting here. The north coast was wild and the rolling waves coming in off the Pacific Ocean were big, big enough for me anyway. Two to three meter seas rolled underneath us and continued on to the rocky coast line. We could see them crashing most of the way, especially outside the entrance to our cove. We had to trust our sources, trust our route, and squeeze through a narrow, rolling kelp clogged passageway to get into the bay and through shallow water to the four mooring buoys.
Thankfully all went as planned and we’re in, on our own for another night. The buoys look like they’d hold a cruise ship in a hurricane. Not that a cruise ship could get in here.
Happy Day, Happy Hour
Before leaving Port Hardy this morning, we had to wait for the fuel dock to open and then waited for several other boats to fill up, but we were in no hurry with only twenty-five miles to do and no currents to worry about. Leaving later turned out to be just as well anyway because it gave the fog time to lift.
Vi whipped up a pot of oatmeal and we ate it with whole milk greek yogurt and fresh fruit. Yum, just like home.
It was a beautiful run along the north end of Vancouver Island and through the Goletas Channel. We only saw two boats the whole day: a sailing cruiser towing a dinghy, like we were, coming the other way from who knows where; and a trawler with booms extended, presumably with lines in the water, so we gave him plenty of space.
We also saw whales and dolphins feeding along the way. We’ve seen dolphins playing on our bow wave in the past, but these appeared to be too busy feeding themselves to pay us any attention.
Bull Harbor is so named for the bull seals that once occupied the bay. No sign of them remains, but there is an aqua-farm at the mouth and some First Nation structures at the head of the bay. There’s also a sign warning us not to go ashore without prior approval. That’s unfortunate because the book describes a short trail to the other side of the isthmus that would have been fun to explore. And there is no one around to grant us approval to explore. Curiously there aren’t any other boats around either. In fact we have, for this entire trip, been a convoy of one. I expected to beat the crowds, but I didn’t expect to be the only one out here.
Mind you I’m not complaining. Instead of exploring on shore, we had did a floating happy hour and enjoyed our time in the sun.
Vi whipped up a pot of oatmeal and we ate it with whole milk greek yogurt and fresh fruit. Yum, just like home.
It was a beautiful run along the north end of Vancouver Island and through the Goletas Channel. We only saw two boats the whole day: a sailing cruiser towing a dinghy, like we were, coming the other way from who knows where; and a trawler with booms extended, presumably with lines in the water, so we gave him plenty of space.
We also saw whales and dolphins feeding along the way. We’ve seen dolphins playing on our bow wave in the past, but these appeared to be too busy feeding themselves to pay us any attention.
Bull Harbor is so named for the bull seals that once occupied the bay. No sign of them remains, but there is an aqua-farm at the mouth and some First Nation structures at the head of the bay. There’s also a sign warning us not to go ashore without prior approval. That’s unfortunate because the book describes a short trail to the other side of the isthmus that would have been fun to explore. And there is no one around to grant us approval to explore. Curiously there aren’t any other boats around either. In fact we have, for this entire trip, been a convoy of one. I expected to beat the crowds, but I didn’t expect to be the only one out here.
Mind you I’m not complaining. Instead of exploring on shore, we had did a floating happy hour and enjoyed our time in the sun.
Saturday, May 20, 2017
Kevin Joins Quijote
Kevin has joined us on a spectacular sunny day in Port Hardy. It was cool and overcast when we started today and as we ventured into Queen Charlotte Sound the fog rolled in. We crossed the strait most of the way with about 50 yards visibility, relying on the plotter and AIS to keep us away from rocks and shipping respectively. Finally on approach to Port Hardy, we had to believe the plotter when it told us we’d arrived because we still couldn’t see anything. Then slowly the rigging of fishing boats started to appear out of the mist like monsters awaiting a feast.
I talked to the harbormaster by phone before we arrived and she recommended we tie up to the Coast Guard dock since they were out of town and wouldn’t be using it. Thankfully the dock was easy to find among all the commercial boats. This harbor doesn’t appear to cater to much recreational traffic, at least at this time of the year. In fact we haven’t seen any other sailboats since we left Desolation Sound. I guess people are skittish about transiting passages this far north this early in the summer. I’m not complaining; it leaves more room for us.
Today we’ll do the usual in town chores to get ready for the next leg of our trip which will head around Cape Scott at the north end of Vancouver Island. That’ll be the farthest point north we’ll go this time. From there we’ll head south down the west coast.
Two weeks down, four to go!
I talked to the harbormaster by phone before we arrived and she recommended we tie up to the Coast Guard dock since they were out of town and wouldn’t be using it. Thankfully the dock was easy to find among all the commercial boats. This harbor doesn’t appear to cater to much recreational traffic, at least at this time of the year. In fact we haven’t seen any other sailboats since we left Desolation Sound. I guess people are skittish about transiting passages this far north this early in the summer. I’m not complaining; it leaves more room for us.
Today we’ll do the usual in town chores to get ready for the next leg of our trip which will head around Cape Scott at the north end of Vancouver Island. That’ll be the farthest point north we’ll go this time. From there we’ll head south down the west coast.
Two weeks down, four to go!
Thursday, May 18, 2017
'Tis better to be a threat than a meal
Vi and I read our books in the cockpit tonight after dinner. Quijote was floating on glassy water under a clear, tinted sky with the sound of birds all around us.
Bootleg Cove is populated with several kinds of birds. They’re often more vocal than visible: the distinct, shrill whistle of a bald eagle perched somewhere in the treetops, the harsh croak of ravens among the trees, and the rattle of kingfisher along the shoreline were constant companions for our stay today. Listening to this chorus while we read our books, we were startled by a heavy flapping of wings above us. We looked up to see a juvenile kingfisher with his punkish crown of feathers looking down on us from from the top of the wind generator. We regarded each other warily for a moment. Finding threat where he’d hoped to find food, he was off again as quickly as he came.
That might be just as well: according to the bird book we have on board, the kingfisher “returns to it’s perch with a freshly caught fish in it’s bill, beats it senseless against the perch, then swallows it headfirst."
Bootleg Cove is populated with several kinds of birds. They’re often more vocal than visible: the distinct, shrill whistle of a bald eagle perched somewhere in the treetops, the harsh croak of ravens among the trees, and the rattle of kingfisher along the shoreline were constant companions for our stay today. Listening to this chorus while we read our books, we were startled by a heavy flapping of wings above us. We looked up to see a juvenile kingfisher with his punkish crown of feathers looking down on us from from the top of the wind generator. We regarded each other warily for a moment. Finding threat where he’d hoped to find food, he was off again as quickly as he came.
That might be just as well: according to the bird book we have on board, the kingfisher “returns to it’s perch with a freshly caught fish in it’s bill, beats it senseless against the perch, then swallows it headfirst."
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Quijote Rides a Waterfall
The sun finally paid us a visit yesterday. What a lovely evening.
Yesterday morning at this time, we were just getting up to sounds of… no rain! It had rained hard all night long. It felt cozy to be snuggled into bed, listening to the incessant driving rain and wind. I was dreading the thought of pulling on rain gear for another day of it. It slacked off just in time. The morning was heavy with low hanging clouds in a light breeze and the rigging was dripping onto the wet, glistening deck. Gearing up for the cold, we entered Johnstone Strait at slack, caught the ebb tide, and rode north.
The weather improved as we proceeded and the wind stiffened. We travelled all day in sunshine with 20 knot winds in our face, gusting to 25. The effects on boat speed of wind and current mostly cancelled each other out. Sources warn us about opposing wind and current making for rough conditions, but the chop was on the bow, rather than sideways to it, so Quijote did a good job of cutting through it, burying her bow into a large wave at times and shedding water through her scuppers.
There’s a feature along the way called Earl’s Ledge that the book tells us can be dangerous at ebb on spring tides. The topography of the bottom pours water from one elevation to another, creating substantial turbulence at times of rapid current. We were approaching it at probably the worst time for the day in that regard, but since it wasn’t a spring tide (in fact we are only two days away from a neap tide when currents are at their most benign) and since we were traveling with the current, I was confident that we could ride on through and get to the other side quickly.
As we approached the feature, our speed over ground increased as it would when heading over a waterfall. That’s essentially what this is, although the fall is all underwater. In the distance we could see a wall of turbulence ahead of us. I wondered briefly if we should turn around and wait it out, but by then the current was pushing us toward it was over three knots, so getting turned around and battling our way away from it would have been difficult. On we charged, right into the teeth of the monster. With swords held high, we screamed our battle cries.
In the center of the strait, the water looked particularly violent, but looking at the topography on the chart, the north side of the strait where we were traveling had a more gradual drop off, and sure enough, the turbulence was only moderately scary. We plowed through it at over nine knots, then quickly slowed into the glassy upwelling of the back eddy. Soon we were through that too.
I’m really glad we were able to safely experience Earl’s Ledge in moderate current. I’ve run through it before, closer to slack, and I’ve wondered what the fuss is about. I can see how with larger current, closer to the center, and heading the other direction, a small boat might get into trouble.
We’re in Boughey Bay now. The weather forecast has offered up three days of “winds: light.” The timing is perfect as we head into the Broughton Archipelago today.
Tuesday, May 16, 2017
Hole in the Wall - The Long Lake
All went well getting into Johnstone Strait via Okisollo Channel today - other than the rain. It was a cold, wet, blustery day out there; and a long one at that. But we’re snuggled into Handfield Bay now, warm and well fed.
Handfield Bay is one that Bob, Kay, and I tried to get into last year on our way north, but were turned around by the crowd. It was of the few anchorages that we were denied. There is no one else out here tonight. What should that tell me? I always like to say: when there are no skiers on a hill, there is usually a good reason. That’s a lesson I’ve learned the hard way.
This time though is going to be different. I say that because: “periods of rain will end Tuesday Morning.” So sayeth the weather forecast. They also tell me that the winds will be light for two days while we’re in the Broughton Archipelago. Two days of light winds spells high pressure and that translates to sunshine in my mind. Yes please!
Getting the currents figured out right and timing the narrows arrival spot-on can be so anticlimactic. They post pictures of raging rapids and big boats spun sideways. They offer dire warnings to time the transit at or near slack. Death, doom and despair. So I take their advice and what do I get? It’s like motoring through a long lake. I’m not complaining, mind you; just wishing I could see the same waters at their worst - from shore.
Handfield Bay is one that Bob, Kay, and I tried to get into last year on our way north, but were turned around by the crowd. It was of the few anchorages that we were denied. There is no one else out here tonight. What should that tell me? I always like to say: when there are no skiers on a hill, there is usually a good reason. That’s a lesson I’ve learned the hard way.
This time though is going to be different. I say that because: “periods of rain will end Tuesday Morning.” So sayeth the weather forecast. They also tell me that the winds will be light for two days while we’re in the Broughton Archipelago. Two days of light winds spells high pressure and that translates to sunshine in my mind. Yes please!
Getting the currents figured out right and timing the narrows arrival spot-on can be so anticlimactic. They post pictures of raging rapids and big boats spun sideways. They offer dire warnings to time the transit at or near slack. Death, doom and despair. So I take their advice and what do I get? It’s like motoring through a long lake. I’m not complaining, mind you; just wishing I could see the same waters at their worst - from shore.
Monday, May 15, 2017
Where's Kay?
The paperwork has been done, tables consulted, math figured, and times recorded. All that’s left is the doing. We’ll depart our anchorage tomorrow morning at 10:30am, travel 15 miles up up whale passage, slide by the Rendezvous Islands and slip into the Hole in the Wall east entrance at 1pm. Traveling 5.3 knots (speed over ground), we’ll squirt out the West end of the narrow 4 mile channel at 1:45p, ten minutes before slack, when the current should be manageable. We’ll hang a right and breeze through the Okisolo Upper Rapids at exactly slack and make our way out to Johnstone Straight. This scenic route bypasses Seymour Narrows that we transited in both directions last year (also scenic, but it’s always nice to do something different.) Both routes have to be timed carefully to avoid currents in excess of ten knots with commensurate turbulence.
Today was a pretty chill day. We left Campbell River to have the current going with us and arrived at Bird Cove on Read Island around 11am. Vi whipped up an awesome turkey sandwich lunch and then we rowed the dinghy ashore to explore the island. We didn’t get very far, but scrambling around on the rocks felt really good and the cove has other arms that were nice to see. We startled a pair of red headed loons on shore; what did Kay call those again? I miss her wildlife acumen. Kay we miss you in so many ways!
Today was a pretty chill day. We left Campbell River to have the current going with us and arrived at Bird Cove on Read Island around 11am. Vi whipped up an awesome turkey sandwich lunch and then we rowed the dinghy ashore to explore the island. We didn’t get very far, but scrambling around on the rocks felt really good and the cove has other arms that were nice to see. We startled a pair of red headed loons on shore; what did Kay call those again? I miss her wildlife acumen. Kay we miss you in so many ways!
Saturday, May 13, 2017
Down One Crew Leaves Two
We were sad to see Lavanya off at the bus station this afternoon. Aside from excellent company, she was a cleaning, cooking machine. An hour before her bus departed, she could be seen down below on her knees scrubbing the floor. Never let it be said that the girl doesn’t leave a place cleaner than she found it.
The ride into Campbell River was peaceful. We started early to get Lavanya off to her bus on time. The seas were rippled and traffic was mostly non-existant. May is the best time to come to Desolation Sound; the weather can be very good, the kids are in school, and most people are still getting their boats ready to fight the crowds. By the time those crowds arrive, I expect to be well north of here. We’ll be in Johnstone Strait in a couple of days.
The Blind Helmsman
This was the Last Recorded Photo of Rod's Favorite Hat. The wind took it away shortly afterward. We quit sailing in circles though, so maybe it was for the best.
Friday, May 12, 2017
A Night in Desolation Sound
The weather today was as lovely as yesterday was nasty. Sunny with ten knot winds was all the encouragement we needed to pull out the spinnaker. We didn’t have many miles to make and with a little open space to play with, we made the best of our good fortune.
Now we’re in Squirrel Cove, a protected anchorage on Cortez Island in Desolation Sound. All just names. The book says space is at a premium in this cove during peak season, but there is plenty of room now. We are one of a half dozen or so boats. There is some shoreline that looks like it might make good exploring, but the girls have decided to nap instead, while I putter away at things I haven’t had time to do on the boat.
I’ll throw a few more names out, not because I think anyone reading it will care, but because I’d like to use this as one method of journalling our travels for future reference. Our ship’s log will do as well, but neither, log nor blog can be scrupulously thorough. I might find details in one that I missed in the other.
On that note, we had planned to anchor in Skerry Bay Wednesday night. The book advertises it as intimate and protected, but we found it full of mooring balls and aquaculture. It was neither practical nor scenic, so we went hunting for something else and ended up in the East Cove of Tucker Bay. Both Tucker and Skerry are on the North End of Lasquiti Island, but Tucker at least had swinging room and we were lucky to have the cove to ourselves. It gets shallow a long way from the head of the cove where a wrecked sail boat is a testament to the dangers of inattention to the charts. I should also note that Tucker would be uncomfortable in strong north-westerlies. Thankfully the winds Wednesday night were from the southeast, so we slept comfortably.
It was those same south-easterlies though, that made our anchorage a little bumpy last night. It pays to be nimble and have alternative options.
Now we’re in Squirrel Cove, a protected anchorage on Cortez Island in Desolation Sound. All just names. The book says space is at a premium in this cove during peak season, but there is plenty of room now. We are one of a half dozen or so boats. There is some shoreline that looks like it might make good exploring, but the girls have decided to nap instead, while I putter away at things I haven’t had time to do on the boat.
I’ll throw a few more names out, not because I think anyone reading it will care, but because I’d like to use this as one method of journalling our travels for future reference. Our ship’s log will do as well, but neither, log nor blog can be scrupulously thorough. I might find details in one that I missed in the other.
On that note, we had planned to anchor in Skerry Bay Wednesday night. The book advertises it as intimate and protected, but we found it full of mooring balls and aquaculture. It was neither practical nor scenic, so we went hunting for something else and ended up in the East Cove of Tucker Bay. Both Tucker and Skerry are on the North End of Lasquiti Island, but Tucker at least had swinging room and we were lucky to have the cove to ourselves. It gets shallow a long way from the head of the cove where a wrecked sail boat is a testament to the dangers of inattention to the charts. I should also note that Tucker would be uncomfortable in strong north-westerlies. Thankfully the winds Wednesday night were from the southeast, so we slept comfortably.
It was those same south-easterlies though, that made our anchorage a little bumpy last night. It pays to be nimble and have alternative options.
Surfing on Malaspina Strait
Today was crazy windy and from the right direction finally. What do you get when the wind gusts up to 33 knots and you have full sails up? You get wide eyed looks all around and a boat that surfs! We had a bit more sail than was prudent for those conditions, so we furled them in and headed for shelter.
It was a wet day. When we finally got ourselves anchored and then re-anchored in gusty winds and driving rain, it felt good to go below, peel everything off and relax a little. Even now, the rollers are coming in off Malaspina Strait and making our lives a little unstable. But at least the sun is out now and dinner is on the way. Life is good.
Tomorrow we’ll be in Desolation Sound.
It was a wet day. When we finally got ourselves anchored and then re-anchored in gusty winds and driving rain, it felt good to go below, peel everything off and relax a little. Even now, the rollers are coming in off Malaspina Strait and making our lives a little unstable. But at least the sun is out now and dinner is on the way. Life is good.
Tomorrow we’ll be in Desolation Sound.
Thursday, May 11, 2017
Safety in Numbers
With eight or ten knots of wind, we unfurled the mainsail today and plodded downwind at three or four knots, then we added the genoa for five knots. The genoa is designed to provide the power, but with off-shore sailing in mind, it’s built with a heavy Dacron than gives it a wide range of wind speeds it can tolerate. But a stiff material that performs well in 35 knot winds, doesn’t do so well in eight. Enter the drifter: a light air nylon sail with a lovely shape and exceptional performance in eight knot winds.
We furled the genoa and unfurled the drifter. I didn’t see much improvement at first, but we discovered that the top of the sail was wrapped up in the spinnaker halyard. After that snafu was unfu’d, the boat speed went up to over six knots. Yahoo.
OK, you’re thinking: so what. But imagine two boats sailing with the trade winds, one at five knots and one at six knots. It will take the former six days to go as far as the latter can go in five days. That translates to safety in terms of crew endurance, resources consumed and exposure to adverse weather - a sound investment.
We furled the genoa and unfurled the drifter. I didn’t see much improvement at first, but we discovered that the top of the sail was wrapped up in the spinnaker halyard. After that snafu was unfu’d, the boat speed went up to over six knots. Yahoo.
OK, you’re thinking: so what. But imagine two boats sailing with the trade winds, one at five knots and one at six knots. It will take the former six days to go as far as the latter can go in five days. That translates to safety in terms of crew endurance, resources consumed and exposure to adverse weather - a sound investment.
Smooth Sailing on the Strait of Georgia
We finally got some sailing in today, a chance to shake out the new sails after several days of doldrums. Quijote has a newer generation 50 horsepower Yanmar diesel that is smooth, quiet, and very reliable. But as satisfying as it is to hum along all day with the engine doing the work, there is always a sense of relief when the sails go up and the engine is cut. The exhaust system gives a final gurgle and then peace settles in, returning all the sounds usurped by the thrum of the engine: the sound of the hull gliding through the water, the wind in the rigging, the seabirds along the shoreline. It’s hard to do anything for the first few moments of sailing, so powerful is the urge to just sit and listen.
But fun awaits. There are sails to trim, navigation to attend to, hazards to avoid.
But fun awaits. There are sails to trim, navigation to attend to, hazards to avoid.
Wednesday, May 10, 2017
Always Learning
It’s the Gulf Islands tonight, a place called Pirate’s Cove. The book describes this place as having wall to wall boats during the summer, which is why we’re here in the beginning of May. Truthfully, if it wasn’t a Tuesday in the beginning of May, we’d be somewhere else. Thankfully there is ample room tonight.
This cove has the dubious distinction of being the place where I first anchored my own bareboat about twenty years ago. I was with a couple of friends who had even less experience than I did. We floated in ready to drop anchor and the engine quit. Huh? Turns out: when we slowed down, the dinghy caught up and the line it was tethered to wrapped around the prop. Guess who got to go for a swim to cut it free with a kitchen knife. That’ll make your teeth chatter. It was one of many lessons on a relentless learning curve. That’s one of the things I love about this sport: I never stop learning.
This cove has the dubious distinction of being the place where I first anchored my own bareboat about twenty years ago. I was with a couple of friends who had even less experience than I did. We floated in ready to drop anchor and the engine quit. Huh? Turns out: when we slowed down, the dinghy caught up and the line it was tethered to wrapped around the prop. Guess who got to go for a swim to cut it free with a kitchen knife. That’ll make your teeth chatter. It was one of many lessons on a relentless learning curve. That’s one of the things I love about this sport: I never stop learning.
Monday, May 8, 2017
What a difference a week makes
Yesterday was the official opening day of boating season, so today boats were streaming through the locks. I counted 33 boats in the lock with us as we were lowered from the level of Lake Union to Puget Sound. Compare that to last weekend when we were the only boat in the lock. All proceeded in an orderly fashion though and we squirted out into the sound a mere hour and a half after leaving the dock - not bad, considering the stampede.
The day’s travel northward was relatively uneventful. With no main sail and wind out of the north, we didn’t have an opportunity to do any sailing, but it was a lovely day and the spinnakers were out in force. It’s Sunday night in Port Townsend. so moorage is plentiful. Dinner in town was followed by hot showers and a look at tomorrow’s charts. We’ll start the day at the sail loft where we’ll pick up a couple new sails, detailed in a previous post, and then head north into Canadian waters.
The day’s travel northward was relatively uneventful. With no main sail and wind out of the north, we didn’t have an opportunity to do any sailing, but it was a lovely day and the spinnakers were out in force. It’s Sunday night in Port Townsend. so moorage is plentiful. Dinner in town was followed by hot showers and a look at tomorrow’s charts. We’ll start the day at the sail loft where we’ll pick up a couple new sails, detailed in a previous post, and then head north into Canadian waters.
Monday, May 1, 2017
The Final Shakedown
The latest blog has morphed from one that was intended to be used between trips into one that will be used for the upcoming trip, essentially leaving the details about the maintenance that has been going on in the blog rather than starting up a new one.
A pot of gold in Paulsbo?
Last weekend several of us launched out to put Quijote and a few of the crew through their paces, a shakedown cruise if you will. It turned out to be a great time, as is most often the case when we venture out onto the water.
We started off with a minor crisis when, no sooner had we requested the Ballard bridge be opened than the engine temperature alarm started wailing. We shut the engine down and drifted for a while to let the engine cool while we investigated the source of the problem. Several weeks ago I found that the previous owner had used the wrong kind of coolant in the engine, so I drained and refilled it with distilled water, warmed it up, then repeated the process a couple of times to get most of the old coolant out, before filling it up again. Going though all this, I noticed that more coolant was drained than it was taking to refill, so I was sensitive to the fact that there might not be enough coolant in the engine. After the engine cooled I pulled the coolant cap off and found that it was indeed dry, so it was just a matter of adding more as coolant worked its way into the nooks and crannies.
With that problem resolved, we headed out the locks. We actually had the lock to ourself for the first time that I can remember.
The first order of business once we had poked our nose out into the sound was to test the water-maker. It was inoperable when I first fired it up many months ago, and it took several weeks of troubleshooting, ordering and replacing various parts as one problem and then another was fixed. I finally got it to a state where I was confident that it was working properly, but sitting in a clean freshwater lake, as Lake Union is, didn’t allow me to test it fully.
For the first time had the opportunity to actually make fresh water out of seawater and I’m happy to report that it works like a champ! I installed a sample valve while I was working on it that allows me to divert the flow to a tasting cup before sending the desalinated water to the fresh water tanks. When I diverted the water into a cup and tasted it, it was wonderful. Ain't technology amazing!
We followed our footsteps of last year’s preparation cruise and headed around the south end of Bainbridge Island and up into Liberty Bay. The weather was a little dodgy, but at least it wasn’t raining. It took us a couple of tries to get ourselves docked after getting kicked out of the first place we tried, but we were finally able to step off the boat and wander around Paulsbo for a while. When we made our way back to the boat intending to head out into the bay for a little anchor practice, we found the winds had kicked up enough that getting out of the slip had me a little worried. I pictured getting blown sideways in 25 kts wind with no flow over the rudder to give me any control. It probably wouldn’t have been a problem, but the crew was happy to wait it out and when the winds finally gave us a lull, we jumped at the dock lines and charged out of there.
We were glad we did. Even with the winds snorting again, it is always more quiet in an anchorage than it is in a marina. It is also the case that boat naturally points its bow into the wind when at anchor, so the cockpit stays relatively dry behind the dodger. That’s not the case when tied to a dock. So it was a good decision. The anchoring was well done by the crew and we enjoyed a terrific meal before settling off to sleep with the weather raging around us.
The following morning we pushed out early to make slack water in Agate Passage, so we were back in town relatively early.
All in all it was a very successful weekend. We learned a few things and added items to our shopping lists that will be helpful to have when we make our departure next Sunday morning.
Quijote Crew makes their way home through the Ballard locks
A pot of gold in Paulsbo?
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