2010 Challenge

This year's voyage north with Ohana will test new waters, skills that we have and some that we will discover. Stepping into these natural environs with considerable forces of water and weather invites a variety of tests. But this is just Nature's way of strengthening all creatures. Navigating the Northwest waters demands one's attention to a process of testing, discovery and adaptation. Plan and prepare but be aware and flexible. So again , Ohana will transport us into a world of swirling dark currents, gale winds, fog enshrouded reefs, as well as sun drenched secluded bays, gamboling dolphins and downwind reaches over sparkling water. Yes, this will be another voyage of great horizons.

Tomorrow, Austin and I will ride the ebb tide out of Puget Sound, cross the strait of Juan de Fuca and catch the flood pushing northward into the San Juan Islands. Weather permitting, we will drop our hook in the waters of Bedwell Harbour and await the morning for customs clearance and favorable tide to begin carrying us to the northernmost tip of Vancouver Island.

Saturday, September 12, 2009
Another summer like day and we are off for James Island at 0900 hours. Favorable flooding tides help us reach Friday Harbor by 1100 hours but then we confront the incoming push through Cattle pass and plod past Turn Island at 3 knots until we round the bend into the mouth of Humphrey Channel. The rest of our journey was mostly with the currents filling up around the southern San Juans. At 1300 hours we find no room at James. A small setback, we consult current charts and consider the light winds and calm seas and forecasted morning fog likely tomorrow. Soon we are making the crossing of Juan de Fuca across the mid afternoon sun sparkled surface. The decision was a commitment to a long day underway so we began planning our options for the night's safe harbor. Either Port Townsend or Port Ludlow, depending upon progress, weather and energy levels. We followed the southbound ebb along Whidbey east of Smith Island and met the countering northward flow from Puget Sound through Admiralty Inlet. The confluence of these currents occurs near Partridge Point and our speed slowed as we reached these converging waters near the end of the waning ebb. By 1730 hours, we drew even with Point Wilson and had secured a slip at Boat Haven marina in Port Townsend via 66A on the VHF. Our staysail deployed to assist the Yanmar, we were making near 7 knots in the 20 knot northwesterly. Now we joined the dozens of sailboats plying the waters off Port Townsend's shores. Boats of a colors, shapes, sizes. Sail configurations of unequaled variety. All this in celebration of the weekend's wooden boat festival. We ran the gauntlet of this eclectic water arcade, Brooke snapping pictures while helping point out crossing traffic. Finally, we were tied to dock with a stiff breeze on our nose, glad to be tied to the wood for the night.

Friday, September 11, 2009
Leisure morning. Arise comfortably well after the sun. Top off the water, take out the trash, go for a hike of the shoreline and swing by the store for a few last "must-haves" and we shed the dock lines at noon. En route to Reid Harbor at nearby Stuart Island, we again encountered salmon playing, feeding, running from predators ??? at the surface with over 600 feet of available water beneath them. Inspired by the sight as well as commercial fisherman talk on the VHF, we made for Reid to secure Ohana and prepare the dinghy for an afternoon's fishing expedition. We rounded the southwest point of Stuart and headed northward along the shore. Ahead were three commercial trawlers feverishly dropping sets while a scattering a small fishing boats scurried to and fro after surface fish like family pets dogging the dinner table for scraps. We joined the other scavengers and started to draft cast at a respectful distance from the trawlers to avoid unwanted shooing completely out of the room. Our efforts soon paid off as Brooke hooked onto a feisty five pounder. We continued to work the water at the surface but were more fascinated by the commercial operations close by. Set after set, now five trawlers were leap-frogging each other. The tender boat would head close to shore dragging the heavy net with its tractor sized diesel roaring. The mother ship made away from shore in a slow arc. The tender would then arc in compliment completing the circle. As the net was drawn aboard we could see, and hear the salmon leaping against the freeboard while being herded into position by a deckhand with a ten foot gaff. Eventually, the dinner party moved to our part of the room and we were obliged to exit but not without a fine salmon dinner in our hold.

Back on the US side now and the weather has improved. Cloudless skies and mid 70s...and the salmon are running. In fact, the salmon are on the surface, followed by the dolphins, line fisherman and many seiners. We'll come back to that shortly. After clearing Customs at Roche Harbor, we opted for a night at the dock and a chance to top off provisions for the remaining days of the trip. Roche, as always, is picturesque and of course the sunset "colors" ceremony is a unique way to cap off the day. A few random bleating boat horns acknowledged the lowering of the last flag, a meager sound off compared to midsummer raucous blaring, hooting and hollering. As if a few remaining boaters are gradually losing their grip on this year's season.

Sidney Spit has provided panoramic views as the weather lifts. Lingering clouds from the past day's torrential rains are swept upward by winds that are thankfully not present at our elevation. We dropped a crab pot before dinghying ashore to hike the spit. The fine white sands, driftwood and evening light made for great photo ops. Back at Ohana, we were crabless and went with a simple dining menu before retiring for a peaceful night on the buoy.

At last a new home. We have left the familiar environs of Montague and taken the short excursion to Ganges on Salt Spring Island. We enjoyed a favorable current and 12 knot winds to make 8knots underway. Dock lines are snug, the fridge is chillin some fresh produce from the local market... aaaand we're on line. Gusty winds are pushing a few dark clouds across the deep blue evening sky. Fall is in the air. Tomorrow we will find anchorage at Portland Island in Princess Margaret Bay possibly in the company of our friends and neighbors, the Mundts, aboard their vessel, Liberte. Ten years have elapsed and 17 years of college tuitions have been paid since our last rendezvous by sail. OMG!

September 6, 2009
0630 hours
Awakened by a building wind and fierce gusts, I lay in bed now pondering the strength of our mooring buoy’s design to hold our swinging 12 ton, full keeled mass. The wind howled through the halyards and I burrowed deeper under the comforter. Then five short harsh blasts penetrated the morning air. All about the bay, heads popped up above gangway hatches like grounds hogs on alert. Off our port side the forty foot sailboat, Tahoo, was sliding backward precariously close to the bow of her neighbor astern. Having anchored in the calm of the evening before, her hook was unable to hold and had clearly given up its grip. A motor yacht skipper upwind had witnessed the drifter through the steam rising from his morning coffee and in a commendable gesture of “motors” reaching out to “sails”, he sounded the alarm. But there was little time to marvel at this brotherly love across the aisle. Action was imperative. The skipper of Tahoo was now visibly clamoring about his cockpit. He moved his head, thrusting his gaze to various points of the compass like a nervous cockatoo with a morning hairdo to match. I was pressed to grab the camcorder but remained entranced and otherwise available to assist. Now the skipper of the threatened sailboat, Serenity, was making his way forward along her deck. His tufted white hair stood upright by the wind as he assumed a watchful perch on his bowsprit. This unlikely pair of birds now faced each other gesturing, bobbing heads and waving arms as if in some rare and serious mating ritual. In fact, if action wasn’t taken soon their vessels would mate like two elephants in a wind storm and it would be a serious matter. Somehow, the skippers reached an understanding and Tahoo’s engine coughed to life, belching and farting like an old man begrudgingly accepting the start to another day of work. Slowly the Tahoo inched away leaving Serenity in peace.