MONDAY, APRIL 30, 2007 - Roche Harbor to Port Angeles and At Sea
We arose bright and early Monday morning, and at 0755 pulled away from the dock at Roche Harbor. Les and Rose and the Jaspers cast off our lines, and I just couldn't keep the tears back any longer. And so it was through teary eyes that we bid each other fair winds until we meet again in another harbor. It was a beautiful sunny day, and the feeling of wistfulness stayed with us as we made our way out Mosquito Pass. The Pacific Northwest has been such a special place for us, and we've made so many wonderful friends here, that we will always have a certain, special place in our hearts for this area, the people, and the time spent here.
The waters were as smooth as a lake, even as we turned into Haro Strait. I was taking some pictures and noticed another Selene in the Strait - it was Brian and Sasha on Furthur, who were coming from Stuart Island and heading back to Seattle. We chatted for few minutes on the radio and took pictures of each other's boats (got some great ones, Brian - will email them to you!). It seemed a fitting end to our PNW cruising to say good bye to them in the Strait of Juan de Fuca, since Brian was the one who sold us our Selene and helped to get us started. Thanks for everything, guys!
The going was very smooth and I got lots of the extra things needing stowage put away. Once we really got into the Strait, though, the seas picked up and there was no way I could do any more. Oh well.....time to get those sea legs back anyway!
We arrived in Port Angeles right at 1200, and John made a perfect docking, spinning the boat in it's length, without using any thrusters. There was, of course, not a soul around to offer accolades and admiration, as is always the case. Why is that?? But Brian, you would have been so proud :) . As we were docking, the phone rang - the Tildens were picking up lunch and would be at the docks in the next few minutes.
We spent about an hour at the dock, collecting the Tildens and their assorted gear, then left Port Angeles right at 1300. Roseanne and I stowed everything we could and secured the rest. Mark set up his MOB pole in the cockpit, and it actually was a good do. So good, in fact, that I'm going to purchase one before we set out ourselves from SF. It can be deployed in seconds and would really help to find someone who's fallen overboard.
Things were really smooth going until about 1630 when the winds started to pick up. We were bucking a flood tide, too, but couldn't do much about that since our decision to sail was based on getting out today. By 1840, the seas had also picked up and were very lumpy. Stabies work very well, but not in head seas. We were hobby horsing bad enough that the soup I had gotten for dinner would not have stayed in the mugs, so we just made up grilled sandwiches to eat. Which was an adventure in itself, as every time we unlatched the refer door, assorted jars, bottles, and yogurts would come flying out. Roseanne and I developed a system where she would slowly open the door while I would catch miscellaneous flying objects as they hurled themselves at us. John and Mark would call out from the bridge when a particularly big swell would be coming and we would quick slam the door shut. What a dufus I am!! I have the little refer spring rods that keep stuff from doing this and a whole roll of nonskid down below, but there was no way to rectify my oversight until this pitching boat was docked. Anyway, we did eventually get food and the only casualty was a container of yogurt that got slammed in the door during a particularly big swell. A bit of a mess, but very minor considering we could have been cold-cocked by a hurtling olive jar!!
As we were approaching Cape Flattery, night was beginning to fall, and we turned on our running lights. Mark went out to check on them, and low and behold the starboard light was not working. We had just had our Coast Guard inspection 2 days before. How could this be?? Whatever, it was definitely not working, so we all wracked our brains trying to figure out what to use instead. It was still way too bumpy to even think about allowing anyone to go onto the roof of the pilothouse to put in a new bulb (although I think Mark briefly considered it until the rest of us, in unison, said 'don't even think about it!' But, that tells you how important this little piece of equipment is on a night passage.) I remembered we had some green vinyl aboard and pulled out a flashlight that we could tape it to, but then John remembered the light Denise Robinson had given us at the rendezvous. She and her former husband had developed and sold the "Mega-Mini Light" which many sailboaters use for an anchor light. It's got a DC plug and a fresnel-type lens on it, so it was perfect for our use, and we wouldn't have to worry about batteries running out during the night. We wrapped the light in the vinyl and duct taped it on. Plugging it into the DC plug on the flybridge, there was enough cord to then duct tape it onto the railing up there. It wasn't exactly right, but it was better than nothing at all. At least the tankers and fishermen would be able to tell our direction of travel. Denise and Jay: thank you, thank you, for making sure we got one of the lights -- it saved our butts today!
Shortly after rounding Cape Flattery, the swells were more behind us, so the ride really evened out alot. The sunset was beautiful shades of pink and purple. Our watch schedule was set us thus: Mark and Roseanne had the 8pm to midnight shift; John and I had the midnight to 4am. They would relieve us with the 4am to 8am shift, and we had the 8am to noon shift. Noon to 8pm, we had a very flexible schedule, as we wind up being in the pilothouse most of that time anyway.
John went to bed around 2030, but I was wound up and wanted to see what the darkness looked up -- I guess I didn't want to go to bed in the light and then wake up for my shift in darkness, never having seen it before on the ocean. At any rate, our ride was very smooth, and when night finally did fall, I found I could see the water in front of the bow and on to the horizon. I finally went to bed at 2130, in anticipation of being up at midnight for my first night watch and overnight at sea.
TUESDAY, MAY 1, 2007 - At Sea and into Astoria
I laid in bed and rested very comfortably, but simply could not go to sleep. All the noises were different and there was something rattling up above us with the roll of the boat. I was too tired to get up and find it, but it was extremely annoying. The going was actually pretty smooth, but with all the new sounds and the sound of the occasional sideways wave hitting the hull (not to mention the anxiety of a night watch), I was left Sleepless at Sea ;) . Midnight came around soon enough, and John and I were up and pulling on our sweats. He had slept some, but like me, not very soundly.
Walking up the stairs to the pilothouse and looking out the window, I could just see the moon peeking through the clouds and a moonlit path on the water. Mark pointed out that the moon had been leading our way, and it really was quite beautiful. He gave us the report: lots of fishing boats, a few crab pots that could be seen in the moonlight, and pointed out the targets on the radar. He and Roseanne went below to rest, and it was just John and I on the bridge.
Night running is really not all that different from daytime. We have all of our instruments on, although they are set very low and a different color for night so as not to ruin our night vision. The pilothouse is completely dark except for the soft glow of the instruments. There were a couple of things that seemed too bright that we couldn't lower the intensity on. For example, our Simrad C-map never did get low enough not to interfer with the night vision, so we just laid a chart in front of it and checked it periodically. We need to work with it further to see how to lower it - I'm sure there must be a way. The other thing was the safety panel lights - they were very bright in the darkness, so again, we just taped a piece of paper over them, and that seemed to do the trick.
The moon would come and go under the clouds, but even when it went behind the clouds, the water and horizon were still discernible. I was very surprised at the amount of things we could see. On our watch, the traffic was minimal. Just a few fishing boats, but most were closer in shore than us. We were running right at the 45 fathom line, so we didn't encounter any crab pots, although we could see boats picking up pots off our port side.
I had been concerned about seasickness, particularly at night. It was interesting because normally, ginger has been a good cure for me. With all the pitching we had done on this passage, I had been feeling queasy, so had had a fair amount of ginger. By the time we were on watch, my stomach felt a bit raw, so I opted for some salted pretzel sticks and a diet coke. It worked almost immediately, and I felt much better. Another remedy added to the bag of tricks. Whatever works, right?
Anyhow, our watch was blessedly uneventful, although the seas did pick up throughout the early morning hours. The swells became quite large by the time Mark and Roseanne relieved us at 0400. I was really tired at that point, and found the last hour I had trouble staying awake. I finally had to move around and stand at the wheel to stay awake. We did encounter a little squall, but that did at least help my sleepiness. After giving Mark and Roseanne our update, we crashed in bed below and I fell immediately asleep in spite of the pitching that was now taking place.
It was funny that we slept better this time than we had earlier. I guess we were just that tired, but the pitching became pretty good, literallly bouncing us up off the bed and then back down. (and this was in the master stateroom, center of the boat. Thought of your story, Rosemary, about hanging onto the forward bunk and still getting bounced up!) It was startling, but not scary, and there were lots of the banging noises that you get when the waves hit the hull, but we did in fact get some sleep. We felt very secure in our little ship.
0800 came all too early, and we pulled ourselves out of our bed to relieve Mark and Roseanne. They were pretty tired, so after giving us the update, they retired below and John and I took the helm to calming seas. The swells were still quite large, but they had a good long period, so the ride continued to smooth as we made our way down the coast. We saw many fishing boats outside of Gray's Harbor, and were careful to give them a wide berth. The only wildlife we saw were Scoters - thousands of them on the water and in groups in the air. They are really amusing to watch when they try and take off -- it's so much work for them to skip across the water as they attempt to get into the air. As Mark says, they're just short of wingspan for their pudgy bodies, and many times will crash into the swells until they just seem to say screw-it, I'm staying here. Yes, well, it is the small things and we were all a little punchy. After Mark and Roseanne got up, we made pizza for lunch and enjoyed the good seas.
The closer we got to the Columbia River bar, the smoother the seas became. The swells were still large, but absolutely no issue at all. We finally made our approach to the bar at 1400 and crossed at the slack. The bar is actually quite long and takes quite a while get over. The swells were 8 feet or so, but were long and not breaking, so all was well. Following the well-marked channel, we docked in Astoria at 1630, poured ourselved a celebratory drink, and enjoyed a bit of back-patting and high fiving! What a great couple of days! Our first overnight passage AND the Columbia River Bar. Woo-Hoo!!!
WEDNESDAY, MAY 2, 2007 - Astoria
We were so tired last night that we went out to the Pig-N-Pancake for dinner and were in bed really early. I have never slept so soundly as I did last night, and woke up feeling very rested, as did the rest of the group.
Roseanne made a great breakfast of blueberry pancakes and bacon, and we had a leisurely morning, relaxing and enjoying our achievements of the last few days (AND rearranging the fridge, laying nonskid and fitting the RV thingies in there). Around 1100, we walked into town and went to the Maritime Museum. It is so worth while! We thoroughly enjoyed going through it and spent the better part of 3 hours there. It did however, make me think twice about the fact that now that we're in here, we've got to get back out! The stories, videos, and pictures of the bar crossings are absolutely incredible! And the Coast Guard is really astounding in their dedication to put their own lives at risk for all of us. My hat is off to all those who serve in this proud endeavor.
In keeping with the leisurely theme of the day, we had a late lunch, stopped to pick up pretzels and hot chocolate at the market (I'm telling you, it really worked!) and returned to the boat in big winds and rain. Our weather system finally arrived, and we were very happy to be here, tied to the dock. We are thinking to leave on Friday, if weather permits. We'll see.
THURSDAY, MAY 3, 2007 - Astoria
We were up a bit later last night, as we had a late dinner aboard Mystic Moon (it was way too nasty to go out). Today has been a real chill day for Roseanne and I. John and Mark rented a car to go to South jetty, Cape Disappointment, and the Astoria Column. I needed to get laundry done (it didn't get done before leaving, since we left a day early) and wanted to get these logs out. Roseanne is fighting with her new Vista system -- I'll let her speak to *that* battle! :) It really was nice to have a day to regroup and think about the next passage.
We hope to leave tomorrow on the morning slack and make our way to Winchester Bay (Reedsport) where Roseanne's sister lives. We should arrive there Saturday morning, in time to celebrate Mark's birthday. The weather forecast is favorable, so that's the plan for now.
Below, I've cut and pasted a portion of an email I sent to Rosemary Dobbe, who had sent me an email of encouragement and already knows all this stuff I'm just now learning. Just thought it would be fun to summarize some of what we've learned in a very short time:
For example: 1- full fridge without rails will spit food and jars out at a rather alarming rate in any big head sea - get those spring loaded thingies that they sell at RV stores and non-skid and USE them! (Had both on board in a locker - duh) 2- Eating soup in a large head sea is not really possible unless said soup is in a tippy cup! 3- Bouncing up and down on the bunk while trying to sleep is really only painful when on the gravitational pull side of the bounce. Oh, and you can sort of sleep through it, although you will dream you are bouncing on something (mine was an island - go figure.) 4- Forget the ginger. Salted pretzels and a diet coke are the ticket on the midnight to 4 shift. 5- It's true -the longest hour of watch IS the last one. 6 - Salty decks are slick as s**t - put the stupid rugs in the laz! 7- It is also true - it's impossible to be cute on a passage - cover all mirrors! 8- Improvising successfully in a pinch is very satisfying - it can *almost* make up for the lack-of-cute factor. 9- The sea really IS beautiful at night. and 10- It feels really good to know your friends are thinking of you and praying for safe journeys and even call to make sure you arrived intact! (Thanks!!)
Life is good.