Finally.

Blind Bay peace

It's later than many years, but we are, finally, off the dock.  I am typing this at anchor in Blind Bay, one of our favorite anchorages.  It is another wonderful, sunny, quiet day here.  In order to get here tho, this list had to be accomplished:

• Change the oil in the main engine
• Change the pencil zinc in the main engine heat exchanger
• Change the oil in the genset
• Top up the water in the batteries
• Locate, acquire and install a replacement fitting for the main engine expansion tank.  It seems like most years there is a major winter project - this was this year's.
• Dive on the prop and clean it; change the prop nut zinc
• Clean up the dinghy from the winter
• Clean up the boat from the winter
• Remove and store the extra "winter" fenders and lines that we install to weather the winter storms
• Fill the water tanks (300 gal)
• Check the fuel (we're good - both are half full)
• Test the anchor windlass
• Check the dinghy motor fuel
• Reinstall and test the dinghy motor

Oops... Tho we had all winter to do it...

Typically, we remove the dinghy outboard and store it in my shop over the winter.  And then getting ready for the season, I clean it up, paint the rusty spots and test run it.  But this season?  Well, I never seem to have gotten around to taking the motor home.

When I tried to start the dinghy outboard, it was dead.  A preliminary investigation showed that there was no spark.  Installing a new spark plug didn't fix it, leading to pretty much the only other likely conclusion: the points in the magneto are fouled.  To get at them, the flywheel must be removed.  Tho I have a lot of tools aboard, I don't have what it would take to do that.

So: decision time... do we go even tho we don't have a functioning motor on the dinghy?  Well of course!

So here we are, peacefully at anchor, with a rowing dinghy!  And tomorrow we will fulfill our annual tradition of listening to the Indy 500 at anchor.

Finally.

The Opposite Perspective

We have anchored in Blind Bay and Indian Cove on Shaw Island countless times.  But other than the obligatory trips to the Shaw Island General Store for ice cream, we have never been on Shaw Island.

There was one exception however, when we took a hike from Blind Bay over to the campground at Indian Cove.  Now Shaw Island is not big - the hike is almost exactly 2 miles long.  When we did that hike, we promised ourselves that we'd repeat it some day, with backpacking gear and spend the nite at the campground.

We took the occasion of our 45th wedding anniversary to do just that last Thursday...

Backpacking on the ferry

When hiking on Shaw Island, you are likely to run into some of the residents...  residents who will not gracefully surrender right of way to you or car traffic.

On the way, you will pass this charming little hut, where someone is selling locally gathered seeds.  On the honor system, of course.

The campground is lovely.  There are 10 sites, most of which are on the edge of a 20 foot high bluff directly above the beach.  All are supplied with picnic tables and a fire ring (firewood is available).  Water spigots are not far.

And then there is the beach at Indian Cove, one of the nicest beaches in the Islands.

The view begs you to just sit and contemplate. 

So we had the opportunity to see the anchorages we are so familiar with, but from the opposite perspective - from land.

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Finally, being the gadget nerd that I am, this trip provided the opportunity to try out some neat things that I had received from my son and daughter-in-law as presents...

Backpacker's beer - No one wants to carry the weight of a six-pack when backpacking.  But most of that weight is water.  What if you removed that water?  Yeah, that's the ticket!  It's real beer, with a real head, and it is as cold as your water source.  You won't believe how good it tastes!

Heating water for coffee... and charging my phone!

Unlike almost all of our backpacking campsites, This one on Shaw Island has cell service.  But the battery in my ageing iPhone 5s is failing and needs frequent transfusions of electrons to stay alive.  Imagine my delight then, at receiving this backpacker's pot!  Yes, it does indeed have a wire attached to it...  You see, the base of the pot is a thermoelectric generator, and creates electricity as long as there is enough temperature difference between the bottom of the pot and its contents.

The Opposite Perspective

Memory Test

Calm first nite of the year, at anchor in Blind Bay

Operating any boat requires that you have a good memory.  Just think about all the things and procedures that you have to keep in mind just to get off the dock.  The bigger the boat, the more systems.  The more systems, the more that needs to be kept in mind.

So here's a partial list from Eolian's "ready for sea" list:

• Forward head items stowed or put in sink
• Pictures laid flat in safe locations
• Refrigerator door pinned
• Galley counter cleared of loose items
• Wine glass rack closed
• Aft head items stowed or put in sink
• [...]

 And for the first time off the dock for the year, those lists held in memory might be a little fuzzy.  And they are longer... because the boat is still in "winter configuration".

When we first got Eolian we had an actual written checklist that we used when getting ready to leave the dock.  And we used it religiously for a long time, years in fact.  But after more than a decade moored in the same place, the list became, well, a hassle.  We remembered everything, right?

Fast forward to the first time off the dock in the first spring in Cap Sante marina.  We went thru the normal "first time off the dock" list that starts with:

• Take off the winter fenders and take them up the dock to the Suburban
• Take off the winter-doubled docklines
• Check the water tanks for water sufficient for the planned trip (Eolian holds 300 gallons - trips less than a couple of weeks don't require full tanks)
• Check the fuel tanks (as above)
• [...]

 And then we started the engine, checked for water discharge, discussed what strategy to use when backing out of the slip given the current wind, checked for traffic in the waterway, and removed all but the bow and stern lines.  I released the stern line, got aboard and put the transmission in reverse.  At the same time Jane released the bow line and also climbed aboard.

I have learned that the best strategy to use when backing out of the slip is to advance the throttle "with authority" (as Art of Phoenix Rising used to say) - it minimizes the prop walk - and then put the transmission in neutral.  All went as planned.  For about a half a second.  And then the bow swung wildly to starboard, heading for the other boat that shares our slip.  As soon as this happened, I switched the transmission to forward and cranked the wheel to stop the boat's movement.  Thankfully, there was no contact with anything.

Then a brief burst in reverse to correct for my panicked over-correction.   Another half second of reflection brought home the conclusion:  we still had a dockline on somewhere.  And at that same moment, Jane spotted the offending line - led from the starboard bow.

With that line removed the rest of our undocking was uneventful, albeit drenched with adrenaline.  

What happened?

Here's the deconstruction of the event.  In all the years we were at Shilshole, our slip opened to the south - the direction the prevailing winter storms come from.  Of course we had a line led from the boat to the end of the finger slip, but there was no way to run a line from the other side of the boat to anything.  But at Cap Sante, our slip opens to the north.  This means that we can have two lines running upwind from the bow to the dock - one to our finger pier and one to a cleat on the dock proper. 

Guess which line we missed.

Yeah, that one.

So we failed the memory test, both of us did.  Or I should say that we passed the memory test with flying colors, but memory alone was insufficient.  An alert, conscious, complete final check would have revealed that we had left a line on, a line that we had never used in any previous year.  So, now there is a final item on the checklist, right before "release the docklines and engage the transmission":

• Be present in this moment, not thinking about 30 seconds down the line.  Make a final, calm, complete check of everything, uncolored by the excitement of getting off the dock.

Will we remember this new item?  And not let it become so routine that we are just going thru the motions?

I hope so.

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Years ago when I was a kid, I used to read Flying magazine. I particularly enjoyed a long-running series of articles entitled "I Learned About Flying From That." Each article was written by a pilot, who humbly admitted to having made a mistake, and then having lived, told about it in the hopes that others would not have to make the same mistake. I thought then that it was a good format, and I still think that now. This series of postings is my attempt to recreate that article series with a new subject and new technology.

(If you would like to help others to learn from your mistakes, please send your article to: WindborneInPugetSound at gmail dot com)

Memory Test

Peace

I mentioned earlier that while on our Shaw Island hike, we encountered and had a mid-road conversation with a nun.

But that bald statement gives nothing of the event.  Despite the warmth of the morning, Sister Miriam, a woman in her late 20's or early 30's, was dressed in the full black regalia, and yet she looked entirely comfortable.  Our conversation ranged over the usual topics one might expect when just meeting someone on an island...  where are you from, where are you going, how long have you been here...  like that.  And Sister Miriam is a woman who quietly and confidently knows where she is and where she is going.  But far more than the topics, during this conversation we were presented with an overwhelming sensation of... PEACE.  It was subliminal, but it was powerful.

It was so powerful that immediately after we resumed our walk we both turned to each other and remarked on it.  It was so powerful that even now, as I am writing, it is with me.  It is simply amazing to me that a brief conversation in the middle of a road on a small island could be so transformative.

I wonder if Sister Miriam knows she carries such a powerful aura.

Peace

The Arduous Hike to Enlightenment

Yesterday afternoon we moved the boat from Indian Cove, around the corner to Blind Bay.

We've anchored in both Blind Bay and Indian Cove numerous times, and on many a sun-downer evening in Blind Bay, speculated just exactly where on the shoreline we should look to be looking towards Indian Cove. 

This morning we finally addressed that burning question. We put on our hiking shoes and dinghied over to the ferry landing. As we walked up the hill, we promised ourselves that when we returned we would have earned a nice ice cream cone. 

It was a quiet two mile saunter on paved roads where we waved at every car and every car waved back. At one point there was a car parked in the middle of the road, stationary, talking on a phone. Not a problem as there was no other traffic. And then there was the pleasant conversation we had with the nun, also out walking, also held in the middle of the road. 

It was not at all arduous, and yet we were enlightened. It turns out that Indian Cove is just over the tree line at the back of Blind Bay, much closer than you would think.  And now we know just where to look. 

The ice cream comes were delicious. 

The Arduous Hike to Enlightenment

Destination: Indian Cove, Shaw Island, San Juan Islands

If you arrived here by searching for a chart, please see this page.

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Shaw Island
Excerpt from Chart 18421

On Shaw Island's southeastern shore, just off Upright Passage, lies Indian Cove. 

Indian Cove
Depths in fathoms

It was one of those summer days when the wind was blowing straight down the Strait of Georgia, right thru the San Juans.  Our anchorage had become uncomfortable, and we sought a place that provided some protection from the strong northwesterlies.  Indian Cove was just the spot.  It was almost calm there, despite the howling wind seemingly everywhere else.

Entering Indian Cove should be done from the southern end, not thru the little channel north of Canoe Island, which is strewn with rocks.  From the south, the only thing to worry about is that rock off the southwestern tip of Canoe Island - it's well-marked with kelp.

Anchorage is good in Indian Cove on a mud bottom which slopes up gently towards the shore without surprises.

Anchoring at the eastern end of the cove provides easier access to the county park, with its wonderful sandy public beach - one of the prime attractions of this anchorage.

However, even at the eastern end of the cove, you are looking straight down Upright Channel right out Cattle Pass and into the Strait of Juan de Fuca.  This would not be a recommended anchorage if the wind were forecast to turn southerly.

Destination: Indian Cove, Shaw Island, San Juan Islands

Ships passing in the night

This morning as I sit in the cockpit in the bright sunshine, it seems like a dream.  Funny how things look so different now, in the sunshine.

We anchored here in Blind Bay yesterday afternoon in a light southeasterly breeze.  We had a relaxed afternoon and evening and went to bed, still with that light SE breeze, just providing enough ventilation to make good sleeping.

You know, when you've lived with a boat long enough, you really do get to know her intimately.  And you are sensitive to the slightest change.  A little before 04:00, there was that change.  Both Jane and I were awake - the first words were, "It came up all at once."  As we laid there and listened to the wind in the rigging, Jane said, "We took a vote - you were elected to go out and check things out." 

So I pulled on my sweats.  And the first thing I noticed was that the main saloon was flooded with light.  Now I was not fully awake, and my first thought was of the moon, which had been so bright a week or two ago.  But then I realized it wasn't the moon - it was the anchor light of a big, white powerboat - something like a Meridian 60.  And it was awfully close. 

As I gained the cockpit, I saw that the wind was blowing 20 kts, now out of the northeast - a 180 deg shift.  My first thought was that we were dragging.  But a quick survey showed that it was not us - it was the powerboat.  And it was moving right at us, slowly, inevitably, a 3-story white fiberglass wall.  I grabbed the air horn we always keep in the cockpit and blasted it at the boat, which was so close now that I was beginning to think about fenders.  I yelled, "You're dragging!  Right onto us!"

Lights appeard, shadows moved, and people got aboveboard.  Immediately the two giant diesels fired up.  But he had a problem - tho no longer hooked, he still had his anchor out and so he couldn't power forward without risking wrapping the chain around one of his shafts.  While his mate worked on getting the anchor aboard, he managed to control the boat so that it squeaked in between us and the boat anchored to our starboard side, barely.  His dragging anchor couldn't have missed ours by much.

Then he started to maneauver around behind us, looking for a new spot.  He had two giant fixed-mount searchlights pointing straight ahead, but these were not helpful since he was drifting sideways down wind.  The anchorage was crowded, but somehow he managed to avoid hitting anyone - a task made the more difficult by the many boats showing no lites at all.  (Why would people do this?  It boggles my mind.  Even a boat on a mooring buoy should have a lite - a solar-powered garden lite costs less than $3, and could save your boat one day.)

When finally he was hooked again and things had settled down, we still heard shouting.  Because it was so dark and so windy, it was hard to tell where exactly this was coming from, but it was definitely from in front of us somewhere.  were we going to need the air horn again?

We finally determined that the excitement was coming from a powerboat with three sailboats rafted up to his port side.  When the wind came up and from a new direction, they too had broken loose.  They may have had more than one anchor out, which would mean that the anchors were now tangled.  And because all the sailboats were on one side of the powerboat, he was unable to effectively maneauver.  I don't know why they didn't just break up the raft, but they didn't.  We stared hard thru the wind and darkness, and finally decided that they too had eventually managed to re-anchor.

And then I realized I had dozed off in the cockpit.  So we went back to bed, just as the sky began to lighten in the east.

And now, in the bright morning sunshine, everything looks normal.  The big powerboat is gone - left while we were sleeping.  So did the raftup.

It wasn't a dream.

Ships passing in the night

Destination: Parks Bay, Shaw Island, San Juan Islands

If you arrived here by searching for a chart, please see this page.

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Shaw Island
Excerpt from Chart 18421

Just a short trip, across San Juan Channel from Friday Harbor, lies lovely Parks Bay.  Parks bay is a delightful, close little cove, with room for perhaps a dozen boats or so.

Parks Bay
Depths in fathoms

Anchoring is good here on a mud bottom, especially so in the back. The little bights in the very back are full of pilings tho, which are only just visible, still submerged at low tide.  You should anchor there only after careful exploration with a dinghy.  The last time we were there (summer 2009), there were some escaped dock segments tied to some of the pilings, making wonderful places for small boats to tie up, and more importantly, clearly marking the pilings.

The heavily forested shoreline is all owned by the University of Washington and is marked No Trespassing.  There are no houses, but there is a UW pier and small shed in the very back of the bay.  It is apparently connected to the road system on Shaw Island, since we have seen a pickup truck parked there infrequently.

There was no (ATT) cell phone coverage and no internet available in Parks Bay when last we were there.  This is not surprising, given the high ridge of land carving the bay out of San Juan Channel, and the unoccupied shoreline.  On the forested shoreline you are almost guaranteed to see deer in the mornings and evenings.  Parks Bay is a little bit of quiet, disconnected, peaceful idyllic heaven.

Destination: Parks Bay, Shaw Island, San Juan Islands

Destination: Blind Bay, Shaw Island, San Juan Islands

If you arrived here by searching for a chart, please see this page.

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When we're in the San Juan Islands, we almost always spend a night (or sometimes several!) at anchor in Blind Bay.  Blind Bay is on the North shore of Shaw Island, nearly directly across Harney Channel from the ferry terminal on Orcas Island.  

The entrance to Blind Bay is guarded by a collection of rocks and small islands.  The clear entrance is to the East of the largest of these, named logically enough, Blind Island.  The end of the shoal extending from the Eastern arm surrounding Blind Bay is punctuated with a rock which is submerged at high tide; there is a privately maintained black and white marker on the rock.  Make your passage between the marker and Blind Island.

The bay itself is a wonderful anchorage with no surprises.  It is big enough to be uncrowded, even on the busiest weekend of the summer, yet small enough to be protected.  The bottom is mud (which our Bruce anchor loves), and slopes very gently from 30 feet at the entrance (depths in these chart segments are in fathoms).

The shoreline is low bank, pastoral and uncrowded, and is all private.  This is a view taken from the Southern end of the bay, looking to the Southeast, in about 18 feet of water.

Although the shoreline is private, Blind Island is a Marine Park, and is available for hiking and exploring - kids will love it.  Camping is allowed on the island, but only for those arriving on a human-powered craft - that is, by kayak or canoe.

There are 4 State Park buoys on the south side of Blind Island, but we think the water is a little shallow for us there and prefer to anchor in the back of the bay.  This picture is taken from Blind Island, looking back into Blind Bay.

Shaw Island is one of the San Juan Islands which is served by the Washington State Ferry system.  The ferry terminal for the island is on the tip of the Eastern arm surrounding Blind Bay.  An order of Nuns used to run the terminal and the small general store on shore above it.  It was a pleasantly jarring anachronism to see a nun, in full flowing black and white habit, with an orange life preserver over all of it, operating the vehicle ramp and directing traffic onto the ferry.

The store is a delightful little general store, selling stamps, bait, clothes, handmade island crafts, groceries.  And ice cream.   It is the perfect dinghy destination for an ice cream cone on a warm summer day.

And when the fog comes in, lending a very nautical and kind of mysterious quality to things, Blind Bay is even more a comforting, cozy anchorage.

It's a good place to settle in.

Destination: Blind Bay, Shaw Island, San Juan Islands