Night 0:
After dropping off a car in Anacortes (our ride home) the crew gathered at Shilshole at 2200 to load the boat and set sail for Port Townsend. On board were Holly, Chris, Kimmy, Adam B., Kevin, and myself. Fortunately, there wasn't a whole lot of wind, which meant a straight shot under motor (I'm beginning to hate the engine less and less with each passing trip). Clear skies and moderate temperatures were forecast for the whole weekend, and I couldn't be happier. Ask any Seattleite and they'll tell you how summer doesn't start till July 5. The trip up was uneventful for the most part. I stayed up the entire time, and my crew switched in out (people slept when not on watch). The most interesting happening came around 3am or 4am, when I came across Seattle-bound cruise ships in Admiralty Inlet. I spotted the port (red) light on the bow of the first ship, but couldn't believe he was taking such a broad angle down the channel, so I accidentally pointed my boat toward him (in an attempt to elude him). Naturally, he then pointed directly at me, so that I could see both bow lights, and given the his speed, I knew I might be in some trouble. I quickly changed course and headed toward the northbound lane (where I was supposed to be in the first place), and missed him by a few hundred yards. Scary! That's the last time I don't trust the textbook! Shortly thereafter, with Kevin as my watchman, I tried opening up the sails as the wind picked up. During our first tack, we noticed that the jib leech (the back edge) was getting caught on the port side spreader while the rest of the sail tried to come across, creating a large tear. Bad news for the first night out! After pulling the sails in, we headed into Port Townsend without further incident.
Day 1:
After a much needed two-hour nap in Port Townsend, we headed out for breakfast and sail tape before heading back to the boat to repair the sails. Around 1100, we set sail for the San Juans, which meant a crossing of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, the channel connecting Puget Sound to the Pacific Ocean. I had never sailed this before, and was a little fearful of what the open-ocean conditions would bring. It turns out my fears were well-founded. After about half an hour of good sailing, we cleared the point and the swells began -- 4 to 6 feet in height, every 3 or 4 seconds. The waves were moving from west to east, and, since we were trying to head north, going directly at our target was not an option (too much rolling). Instead, we had the motor through the waves, first in a northwest direction, and then surf with them in an northeast direction. It seemed to take forever, although in reality it was only about 20 nautical miles and 4-5 hours. Most of my crew was seasick (I was not), and we unanimously decided that it was time to get off the boat for a while as soon as we could. Unfortunately, stuck in the middle of a vast channel without so much as another boat within view, we knew it would be a while. Eventually, the swells settled down considerably about a mile from the entrance to Cattle Pass, our portal to the San Juans that separated San Juan and Lopez Islands. By 5:30, we had safely arrived at Friday Harbor, exhausted, nauseated, and ready for the warm and serene setting that awaited us.
Night 1:
The first thing I wanted to do after we docked was lay down and soak up the sun. Even the cement float that we were tied to was comfortable enough for me, especially since I had slept only two hours the night before. It wasn't nearly as full as I thought it would be, given that it was a holiday weekend. The weather, as it did all weekend, cooperated wonderfully -- mid 70's with a light breeze. Mt. Baker to the east gleamed in the afternoon sun, and L'Attiude's crew went out for a brew pub for dinner and beer. More than one person admitted to feeling like they were still rocking while at dinner -- such is the effect of long sails. After dinner we convened on the dock for some sing-along guitar courtesy of Adam B., before hitting the hay shortly after nightfall.
Day 2:
We began the day with some bagels and a much-appreciated shower at the marina. After pumping out the holding tank and swapping Holly (who needed to work on Monday) for Owen (who took the ferry in from Anacortes), we were once again on the water en route to James Island, which is east of Decatur and Lopez Islands. From our guide books, we learned that James Island is a small, hourglass-shaped marine state park, with boat-in access only. Besides some good trails and campsites, its claim to fame was the bandit raccoons that call it home. This would come into play later in our trip. The sail itself featured on-again, off-again winds, but for the most part we successfully avoided using the engine. We were not fortunate enough to come across any orcas, but we did happen upon a school of porpoises, much to Kimmy's delight. Overall it was a very calm and relaxed sail, in great contrast to the previous day's voyage.
Night 2:
We arrived at the island at about 1700, and rafted up to a motoryacht at the island's dock. Kimmy, Chris, Adam, and Owen then unloaded their camping gear and cookware and moved it over to their campsite, where they'd be spending the night. Kevin and I were to sleep on the boat. Dinner that night featured grilled brats and zucchini, followed up by the obligatory s'mores over the campfire. The setting was awesome, with two eastern facing coves overlooking Cypress Island and Mt. Baker.
Day 3:
Even after all of our sailing/motoring, I was still eager to explore some new territory. So on Monday, after fine breakfast of eggs, bacon, and french toast, Kevin and I set sail for Doe Island, another marine state park about 10 miles to the north, just a stone's throw from Orcas Island. The other four stayed back to hang out on the island, which worked well for everyone. Our route to Doe Island took us through Rosario Strait, about which I had been warned by multiple people. No worries though. The wind was blowing at about 10-15 knots from the south, perfect for our course, and we our destination in just over two hours. Doe Island itself is quite small, and could be circumnavigated in about 10 minutes. Even so, it had a nice small dock to tie up to. Figuring that this would be the closest we'd get to civilization, Kevin and I attempted to get rid of our rapidly accumulating garbage by paddling it over to the Orcas shore. Kimmy and Chris had brought along an inflatable canoe that would transport us. This turned out to be quite an operation. Getting the canoe pumped up was a long and tedious process, and paddling the 50 yards to shore was even more awkward, given the instability of the canoe. Once we made it ashore, we weren't sure where to go with our trash, as it seemed like we were surrounded by water and private property. Kevin asked a woman, who was out on her back deck, where Doe Bay was (our intended target), and apparently we were one bay off, with no possibility of getting there. So we felt stupid as we paddled our trash back to the boat and headed back to James Island in a stiff 15-20 knot southerly.
Night 3:
We arrived back at the dock at 1910, about ten minutes past our intended time, which is great, considering the uncertainty of the winds. There was even dock space available, which seemed like a great idea at the time (we had initially intended to tie up to a mooring ball on the east side of the island, near camp, but after the ordeal with the trash and canoe, decided to play it safe). Dinner consisted of steak kabobs on the grill, and we played board games, guitar, and ate s'mores for the rest of the night. Around 2330, Kevin and I decided to turn in for the night. Upon returning to the boat, we were greeted with an arresting sight. Three raccoons had found there way into the cockpit, and we had to scare them away. Then I realized I had left the window to the aft berth open, and immediately feared the worst. Kevin opened the hatch and confirmed my worries. The raccoons had gotten *everywhere*, and had completely torn apart all of our accumulated trash, leaving eggshells, butter wrappers, etc. strewn all over the floor of the main salon. What a mess! Getting to bed that night took an extra long time, but eventually we got the mess cleaned up enough to sleep.
Day 4:
Our plan for the day was to get up and sail/motor back to Anacortes, about 9 nautical miles east of James Island, and hand the boat over to the next charter at noon. Surprisingly, everything went smoothly -- we fueled up, pumped out, cleaned out the boat, and handed over the keys right on time. I cannot overstate how excellent my crew was on this trip, during the long sails, food preparation, and cleaning up the boat upon our return. I couldn't have picked out a finer group, and I was impressed by their perseverance in some pretty tough conditions.
Overall, it was a splendid weekend. The weather couldn't have been better, the wind was ideal, and despite a few nicks, the boat performed admirably. For what it's worth, I never got to put my anchoring skills into practice, but that made things nice and easy on everyone. I thought this cruise would satisfy my sailing bug to the point where I wouldn't need to do another long trip for a while, but instead, I think it did the opposite. I could've stayed up in the islands for a week, and I'm much more inclined to do a similar trip to the south Sound, which is a lot closer than the San Juans.
For all the pictures from the trip, follow this link
No comments:
Post a Comment