A happy hooker

(Oh wait - you were thinking what?)

On our trip to the San Juans and the Gulf Islands this year, we had a problem at the first mooring buoy we attempted to pick up: the bronze end broke off of our boat hook.

We were attempting to pick up a buoy at Flagler State Park when it happened. Eolian has a lot of freeboard (more than 6 feet at the bow), and so reaching down to pass a line thru the ring on a mooring buoy is just not possible. What we have done in the past is to pull the ring up to deck level (one person) and thread a line thru it (other person). Notice that this arrangement leaves no one at the helm. This is not easy, since the chain below the ring is very heavy (probably at least 1/2" chain, possibly 5/8"). When there is a current, the buoy stretches the chain out, making it even more difficult to pull up, especially since no one is at the helm to stop the boat from falling back down current or down wind.

Well, the current at Flagler was horrendous, and the tension applied to the boat hook, even tho it was a straight pull, was more than it could handle. This failure simply was the straw that broke the camel's back, and it galvanized us to find a better way to pick up a buoy.

Enter the Happy Hooker. This is a device that attaches to the end of your boat hook pole, and that allows the threading of a light messenger line thru the mooring buoy ring with a single thrust-and-retrieve action. It is an ingenious device, made of plastic. (I am tempted to use it as a pattern to make one of cast aluminum.)

I can't wait for us to try it out. If it works, Jane (out on the bow) will be a happy (buoy) hooker indeed.

I'll let you know.

A happy hooker

4 Days

It is just 4 days a year. That really doesn't seem like so much of an effort to keep the exterior teak on Eolian spiffy. Yet it seems that every year I go into anxiety attack mode, worrying that we won't get it done. In order to do the brightwork the easy way, we need 4 days of not-rain. In Seattle, that seems to be a major constraint. And 4 days of not-anything-else-pressing. Some years that is harder to come by than not-rain.

The drill is:

• Day 1: Tape and sand
• Day 2: Coat 1
• Day 3: Coat 2
• Day 4: Coat 3 and de-tape

It is only Day 1 that is really onerous. The other days, the commitment is only about 3 hours, most typically first thing in the morning after the dew has come off.

This year, we tried something different (thanks to Jane, aka Wonderful Woman): We did the work at anchor. Aside from Day 1, this only took up time that we would have been lazing around anyway, and again aside from Day 1, we still had the day to use however we saw fit. And by doing the work at anchor, we had easy access to the entire outside of the boat by dinghy, and no docklines to work around. It really was a better arrangement. Thanks Jane!

Jane did the fiddly stuff: the handrails and the "eyebrow". I did the bulk stuff: the caprail. And this year I even took half of the eyebrow down to bare wood and started over, since the varnish had failed on it.

We finished yesterday - and we just barely made it... the pictures I took this morning show that it rained over night.

And, without the task hanging over my head anymore, I feel like a kid on the first day of summer vacation!

4 Days

Sadness

Something sad has happened.

When we were in Friday Harbor, we discovered that the Front Street Ale House was closed.

Coming to this pub has been a tradition with us, well forever. (Here's a picture of Jane and Adam there nine years ago. The whole family was there, but if I recall correctly, he bought the beer, thus he is immortalized in Internet fame.)

This was a brew pub. I am guessing that none of the beer they brewed made it off the island tho, so you've probably not tasted it (unless you were there of course). And it was good beer they made - something to look forward to, welcoming you to shore.

Things change, etc. But I am sad that this icon is no longer waiting for us as we walk up into town.

RIP Front Street Ale House

Sadness

Another sunny day in paradise

We have settled into a routine now. Rise before the sun, drink a latte or two, waiting for the coming day to dry the dew off the new varnish, and then apply a coat. The application takes us about 3 hours, and then the day is ours.

Yesterday, we went ashore into Winslow and found a laundromat (even cruisers have to do the laundry, eventually). We had lunch at the Harbor House pub, and then returned out to the anchorage, where we:

• read
• knitted (not me - Jane)
• enjoyed the cool breeze
• wine in the cockpit in the evening
  

There is one more coat to go...

Another sunny day in paradise

Cruising...

They say that cruising is working on your boat in exotic harbors. I don't know if Eagle Harbor qualifies as exotic, but we spent the day here working on the brightwork. Today was all prep work today, taping and sanding. In the now summer-like heat.

We're beat tonite. The cool shower (at anchor; no hot water) at the end felt wonderful.

And all day long, these guys wouldn't leave us alone. I have found that with geese, greed trumps fear. They will take pieces of bread right out of your fingers. The girls are generally more careful of my fingers.

Is anyone surprised?

Cruising...

Long, but satisfying

Yesterday was a looong day. We hoisted anchor in Friday Harbor, San Juan Island at 06:15 and headed out. We got started this early for two reasons:

• Based on our past experience, we wanted to reach slack water when we were at Partridge Bank. We needed an ebb tide to give us a ride out of the San Juan Islands, but we needed a flood tide for the ride down Admiralty Inlet and into Puget Sound.
• It was a long trip - we needed the time to make it. Our plan/hope was to go all the way into Eagle Harbor, on Bainbridge Island - a trip of 67 miles.

We motored out of the harbor, and caught a nice breeze that carried us about half way out of the Islands. Then it faded, we had to start the motor. We drove most of the way to Smith Island, where the breeze filled in from the West, rising to 10-15 (NOAA forecast: East, 10-15). We sailed basically from there all the way to Eagle Harbor. There were two other short stretches where we needed to start the engine. It was a long day - we dropped anchor at 19:55, after nearly 14 hours.

It was a very clear day - we were able to see Mount Rainier from the San Juan Islands, and when we got into Admiralty Inlet, the Seattle skyline appeared. Looks pretty insignificant, doesn't it?

Long, but satisfying

Finally.

Delayed post from Saturday, 7/3

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We are in Montague Harbor. Summer has knocked on the door. It is late in the day and the sun is shining at a shallow angle, glancing off the water and making a light show on the ceiling of the cabin. What you can't see in this picture is that the pattern is constantly rippling, changing.

And, tonight, I can finally declare that I have reached an important mental state: VACATION. Yes, it has been nearly a week since we left Seattle, but perhaps that says how tightly wound I had become (I think Jane would agree with that assessment).

We had a wonderful sail over here from Ganges. After using the engine to get out of the harbor, directly upwind, we made a left turn and unfurled the sails into a spectacular reach, making 6.5 kt. As we made it thru Captain's Passage, the wind fell off, and our speed dropped correspondingly, but finally, finally, that was OK with me. I checked with myself - I was at peace - I felt no urge to meet some self-imposed schedule. So we kept sailing at falling speeds. We sailed the entire way into Montague Harbor, only starting the engine to do the harbor maneuvering to deploy the anchor.

We had planned to visit the restaurant at the marina tonite, but it turns out that reservations are required, and this is Canada Day weekend... So we enjoyed happy hour on the deck with a view that cannot be topped from any restaurant on shore.

Finally.

Off the grid

Sometime today we will leave Ganges and head over to Montague. Our wide-spread Wi-Fi provider does not have a presence there, so we probably will be off the grid for awhile.

We had a wonderful day yesterday, off the boat for the first time since Mystery Bay. We had breakfast (well, almost lunch) at the Tree House Cafe - a very unique and charming outdoor cafe positioned, oddly enough, right under a tree. If you should ever find yourself in Ganges, this is a not-to-miss place.

After brunch, we did some shopping, visiting a used book store (we seem to haunt these, don't we). I got a couple of interesting volumes there on NW coast history - the second volume of the books David Conover wrote about his life on Wallace Island, and one called "Bits and Pieces - Tales Told at Greenwoods," which sounded intriguing.

Next we visited Mouat's, a hardware/marine supply/housewares store that dominates the waterfront and got a repair device for the washdown hose (taking us back to now 1 failure for the cruise), and a glass slug that I just couldn't resist.

I also bought 10 gallons of diesel for $4.83/gal (CN). Wow.

We replenished the fresh veggies and then back out to the boat.

Off the grid

Up close and personal

We're finding little "things" on the deck this morning.

Day before yesterday, when we anchored here in Ganges, we ended up with a prime spot. Apparently we arrived not long after several boats left. We are far enough to the dock to allow the seemingly continuous series of sea planes to get to the dock, but close enough to discourage anyone from anchoring between us and the dock. And outside of us is a "work in progress" wooden tug hanging on a rusty cable anchor rode. Everyone is giving him a wide berth.

But yesterday afternoon, when the large orange official-looking Marine Safety boat came up to us, I thought they were going to ask us to move. Not so. They informed us that there were going to be fireworks here in the evening, and that we should tell others who might be tempted to anchor inside of us that they would be in harm's way.

Canada Day fireworks! Wow! And it turns out that we got *the* front-row seat.
Like just about everybody, we have been to many fireworks displays - but not like this. As it got dark, Jane and I were out in the cockpit, trying to figure out where they would be shot from. And we remarked at all the people standing on the docks, also waiting for things to get going.

There was a rousing rendition of "O Canada!" from loudspeakers on the dock (and the entire harbor joined in!), and then the first rocket (OK, technically they are mortars) went up... from the dock! When it exploded it was directly above us - I literally ducked. Talk about impressive... Yes, I watched to make sure that nothing burning landed on us (setting the furled sails on fire would have ruined our evening); nothing ever did. These guys knew exactly what they were doing. There was the occasional "tink" as some piece of burned-out casing landed, but they were cool.

It was the most intimate encounter with large fireworks I have ever had. Well, except for the time when I was probably 8 years old and we went to see the fireworks at Arlington Heights, Ill. Something went wrong with one of the rockets, and it landed in the stockpile of unfired munitions. While running for our lives, I looked over my shoulder at the most impressive ground display I will ever see.

Up close and personal

Things are not what they seem

6/28/2010

Today was the day to cross the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Never to be taken lightly, this body of water can kick up some prodigious conditions, especially when wind and tides oppose. Today, there was no wind to speak of (despite a forecast of 20 kt westerlies, which would have been perfect beam reach conditions) - perhaps just 4 kt out of the South. Given the currents, sailing in that zephyr was just not a choice. So we burnt diesel.

But, oh those currents. Thanks to the GPS, it was possible to keep a steady course toward the destination, but it sure didn't look that way. There were times, hours on end, when we had the bow pointed as much as 45° off of the desired course (3-4 kt cross-course current? Sure!). Not being able to see the GPS from where she sits, Jane was very nervous about our course, and I can certainly see why. Without the benefit of the GPS view, it looked like we were heading in a completely wrong direction.

It was another long day. In retrospect tho, perhaps we should have left about an hour later (sleep in! I could have slept in!). Again, we rose at 05:15 and weighed anchor at 07:00. But we arrived at Cattle Pass (the entrance to San Juan Channel) at 12:45, just before the end of the ebb tide. An hour later, and we would have had a sleigh ride up the Channel. But as Jane pointed out, if we left an hour later, we might just have arrived 2-3 hours later without as much help from the ebb tide.

Arrived where? Parks Bay, one our favorite gunkholes. It is right across the channel from Friday Harbor, but it is a world away. No internet, no cell phone coverage, and the shoreline is all owned by the University of Washington - landing is forbidden. And as a complete surprise, there was only one boat in here when we arrived. As the sun sets and I type this, another two have arrived. We are lonely here, and I like it.

There is an eagle's nest on the NW shore, and there was a young eaglet up there, crying pretty much continuously for food. Mom and Dad were soaring 100 feet above - surely they could hear him, but they didn't respond. Perhaps they were saying, "Get a job!"

I put the dinghy over the side and tore down the outboard - it turns out that there was a little water in the gas tank, and it had wetted the screen over the outlet, restricting the flow of gasoline. I dumped the gas back into the large jerry can of outboard fuel we keep on deck, cleaned and dryed the screen, and put everything back together. The outboard runs fine. So now we are back to one failure for the trip, and I don't see how I would be able to reduce that - I can't see how I might fix the boat hook, given that the casting that makes up the working end went over the side.

We grilled some cheeseburgers, and endeavored mightily to reduce the liquor supply down to that allowed by Canadian customs - because we've decided to go into Canada tomorrow.

Sacrifices must be made.

Things are not what they seem

A little slice of Heaven

We are here, in Ganges, Saltspring Island, BC. We left after lunch and got here at about 4 PM, and fortuitously were able to anchor right near the town dock.

Jane just said that we have a little slice of heaven here. The sun is still shining, it is warm, we had BBQ and grilled corn on the cob for dinner, and now as the evening sets, the water is calm like a ripply mirror and there is a live band somewhere on shore playing jazz.

And I am down below catching up on the blog - there are a couple of days to do, and I am working on them.

But for now, I am going up in the cockpit to watch the evening fall and listen to the music.

A little slice of Heaven

Poetry in cove

6/30

Tuesday morning, we rose late. Heading to Canada, the tide would be against us until the afternoon, so there was no reason to force ourselves out of our comfy warm covers prematurely. We breakfasted on the last of our blueberries, since we couldn't take them into Canada (?), and spent the morning reading (me) and knitting (Jane).

After lunch, we dug out our Canadian courtesy flag and got the ship's papers ready, and hoisted anchor. Unfortunately, the anchor wash-down hose failed, after the anchor was aboard. We'll have to get a new one at Ganges when we get there. The trip failure count now is back to 2.

Going across Boundary Passage is always interesting. Aside from it being an international boundary, it is also a major junction between the waters in the Strait of Georgia and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. A lot of water flows thru there every tidal cycle. Consequently, there are lots of tide rips, overfalls, boils, and the charts are marked with foreboding "swirls" (the Norwegian word is "maelstrom") all over the place. The direct path between Parks Bay and Bedwell Harbor (South Pender Island) passes right thru the worst of these. We altered that path, going north of Flattop Island.

It was an interesting day - for most of it, we had the wind on our port quarter, and flew the yankee by itself. At one point we were seeing 15 kt relative wind and were doing 7.5 kt over the ground. Thankfully this was just when we were trying to stem the south-flowing current at Flattop Island. But eventually, the wind faded and we were forced to start up the diesel.

After clearing customs, we anchored in Poet's Cove, not far from a spot others remember well. Not wanting to pay the exorbitant international roaming fees, we both have our cell phones turned off. And there is no internet service available here (doesn't BBX have a site at Bedwell? I'll just jump on line and check. No - wait...). Wow - three days without a connection - how long will it be before the twitching stops? Before I don't feel the need to check my email, facebook, etc. every 30 seconds?

This morning it is downright chilly. In the cockpit, inside the full enclosure, the thermometer reads 46°, and the cabin was 56° before I lit the Dickenson. But it is a bright sunny morning, and I am sure it will warm up (he says bravely). Interestingly, the Poet's Cove anchorage is hard under a high cliff which is shading the anchorage, so it may be a while before that sun actually shines on us.

This morning there are platoons of these guys patrolling between the boats, keeping things orderly - entirely appropriate since we are in their country!

And as were leaving the harbor, we saw something sad and almost a little comical . There was a bald eagle, in the water. I guess he dove on a fish and misjudged and got too far into the water. He was slowly making his way to shore with a kind of slow overhand (overwing?) crawl. There was a kayak with two folks in it debating whether to close in and help. I didn't get any pictures because we were too busy getting under way, and I don't know how it all turned out.

I'll bet the eagle was embarrassed.

Poetry in cove

The power of sunscreen

Posted on Wednesday, because we just anchored in Ganges where there is INTERNET!

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6/27

We rise at 05:15 on normal workdays - why does it seem so early on a vacation day? After getting some coffee in us, we did the last of the tasks to be ready to leave, and cast off at 07:00. It was a partly cloudy morning, but it was warm and we were moving downwind, so it was comfortable out on deck in just a sweatshirt.

We left at this early hour for two reasons: First, we wanted to get the best of the northward-flowing ebb tide, and second, we hoped, that if things worked out well with the tide, to be able to tie up at Ft. Flagler State Park on the far north end of Marrowstone Island instead of in Port Ludlow.

Soon, the sun was shining, and we had a great wind off the aft starboard quarter, and thanks to the tide, were making 8.5 kt. It was glorious! I peeled off the sweatshirt, and then the tee shirt. We got out the sunscreen, and prepared for a summer day!

And then the clouds came in.

We continued to make 8.5 kt all day, and blew right past Port Ludlow. When we turned the corner at the top of Marrowstone Island, we were still in the ebb tide, but by the time we got to the entrance of Killisut Bay, the flood had started. I guess you could call that perfect timing, but it was by the skin of our teeth.

Our plan was to take a buoy at Ft. Flagler State park. Maneuvering against the rushing tide influx (it was like being in a river), I brought the buoy alongside and Jane hooked it with the boat hook on the first try. Then, while pulling up the ring to thread a line thru, the end broke off the boat hook! Sploosh! There went all our capability to tie to a mooring buoy for this trip! Trip failure count = 1.

A quick decision, and we headed south into the waterway between Marrowstone and Indian islands. Entering the waterway at the top is complicated, but threading the needle below Ft. Flagler is much, much worse. A local told us this afternoon that everybody eventually runs aground in there, and that it hasn't been surveyed in a looong time. When we saw 5.8 feet on the depth sounder, we made a panic U-turn (we draw 6 feet). We went back and anchored between the buoys at Ft. Flagler, and waited for the tide to raise the water level.

By 14:00, we had another two feet of water, and so we tried again (and used a slightly different path thru the maze). Excellent! The least water we saw was 10 feet. On the way down, we saw this boat - it appears that it was washed ashore (lost its way thru the maze perhaps?), and is awaiting a very high tide to rescue it. Luckily, June is the month where there are both very high and very low tides.

So, here we are, anchored in Mystery Bay - perhaps I'll do a "Destinations" post on it later. We went ashore to the State Park here by rowing - the outboard is starving for fuel (dirty filter is my guess - I'll fix it later. Trip failure count = 2). It is lovely. In fact the word that comes to mind here is: cozy.

It is dinner time now, and we are down below. It has been raining off and on for a while, and we have 20 kt blowing thru the anchorage.

Seems like a good night for Thai Panang Curry. I'll get to work on it.

The power of sunscreen