I get to the cashier and proudly announce I want a Waffle Sundae. I had thought this would be a normal social interaction where one declares need and monetary compensation, and the other supplies service or product in exchange.

“What kind?” I am asked.

Realizing how unprepared I was, I took a chance on “…. Chocolate?”

“Chocolate what?”

“umm .. I don’t know” I admit

Gesturing toward the poster that started the problem, the cashier pointed out as if to a young child “You see there are different kinds”

“Right, so what are my choices?” I feel this will get the exchange back on an even keel.

However the cashier was crafty indeed “You can have anything you want”

“Okay, I just want a sundae ….in a waffle cone …with chocolate” I thought I was being very succinct, and clear, and I added “with oreo cookie crumbs” just to add to the argument that I knew what I was about.

“Yes but what kind?” ….

I left a few minutes later with a simple vanilla cone.. It just seemed easier; and in the end, ice cream is ice cream.

The beginning of March I got word from Captain Rob (the Harbor Master) that I was going to have to move Ivy to make room for the S/V Hawaiian Chieftain, that was due March 18^th. I had been tied up north-south on the outside, which was a little exposed to northerlies, but typically a comfortable moorage. I had to relocate inside now moored east-west exposed to the south, and being that most storms blow up from the south, this has proved a bit less friendly. Oh well Winter is fading and Summer is showing, so I guess I can live with it for a month or so.

The S/V Hawaiian Chieftain made port right on time, was a beautiful day to see her come in. Unfortunately on her way from Crescent City she picked up a couple crab pots, and had a difficult time maneuvering with the starboard screw seized and the port fouled, but eventually they tied up to a dockload of tourists, all getting in the way. I had seen both the S/V Hawaiian Chieftain and the S/V Lady Washington in Everett just prior to leaving last year, but Everett is a big marina and the ships drew big crowds, so I more or less stayed clear of them. It wasn’t going to be that easy this time as Hawaiian Chieftain was less then ten feet from my Ivy. Everyday at dawn the dock was cluttered with noisy people and their kids and cameras. I must confess to being a bit of a bah-humbug, but this was my world they were invading, I had my routine down, and I didn’t care for the intrusion.

John (S/V Morning Light) and I had breakfast with Andrew the skipper Sunday morning at a little dive called the Blue Moon. Turns out Andrew has an Irwin 33, so we immediately fell into heavy sail talk. I think Andrew was just as happy to find people he could relate to as fellow sailors as we were to find another to argue the merits of the Rocna anchor over a CQR. A surprising week of good weather for the tours and day sails and the S/V Hawaiian Chieftain was off again, this time headed up to Newport.

In the mean time on Ivy I had been dealing with a few other situations. First, my laptop had been acting very unprofessionally. I would go out for a walk and come back only to find it turned off, when I know I had left it running; also the keyboard would get very warm, so I kind of knew what was about. Ivy is a very dusty boat down below, and I knew that the CPU fan was probably all clogged up, causing the video card and CPU to overheat. The problem with this diagnosis is, I didn’t want that to be, as it meant opening up the case, dealing with all those ridiculously small screws, and carefully detaching ribbon after ribbon until I got to the motherboard. Well, after putting it off far too long, that’s what I did, and that was the situation. I cleaned it out, put some fresh thermal paste on the heat-sink and put it all back together, only losing two screws and breaking one wire to the wifi card (better then I thought I’d do, believe me). Too little, too late.. I had put it off too long, and damaged the CPU. It certainly ran better than before, but now developed this insubordination that when I launched Firefox, the screen seemed to glare back at me as if to say ‘open it yourself ya bastard’.

All in all, two years is what I seem to get out of a computer, and I was coming up on that mark, so it was time to reach into the pockets and make my sacrifice to the digital gods. I generally buy the cheapest technology I can get away with, as this allows me to refresh often and stay more or less current. What I found was a new 2.2ghz dual core, with 3gb ram for $350, not the sweetest deal I have ever got, but pretty good considering I was in a hurry. Unfortunately it is running Windows 7, so I am going kicking and screaming into 64bit.

The second issue is with Ivy’s crew. I have for the last several months had some discomfort in my abdomen. You know that sharp, sudden, gut wrenching pain that alerts you that something is serious and better be taken care of immediately? That’s not what this was at all, I would hardly call it a pain or even discomfort, just a weird gnawing. Well after trying the ‘wait and see if it goes away’ technique that worked so well on my computer, I thought a visit to a Doctor might not go a miss. Four Doctor visits, an X-Ray and an Ultrasound, about the best they can give me is “umm.. it looks like you might have sludgy bile in your gallbladder”. Well.. I NEVER! How can you possibly defend yourself against such a criticism? The next step would be exploratory surgery, and being without health insurance, let’s just say that is going to be near the bottom on my list of next steps. So it’s back to ‘wait and see if it goes away’. If I can just make it to Mexico without it getting any worse I will be better able to afford whatever treatment there, without seriously bruising the cruising kitty.

I debated long about mentioning this health issue in this blog; but the reality of it is, these are the kind of problems and decisions one has to make out here on the raggedy edge. Not that I want to get political here, but I cannot get affordable health insurance inside the US. Once I leave US waters I will be able to afford good coverage, from a US insurance company, how screwy is that?

Randy

S/V Ivy

Well after three weeks in Seattle, I was suggested an unlikely cure for my cold in the way of a trip to Phoenix. It shows how far I have crept out of my old hermit life that my initial response was not “No, can’t do it, too many things to do, not in my plans, etc.” Now, I have to admit ‘Phoenix’ and ‘paradise’ are two words I was unlikely to ever use in a sentence, but walking around in shorts and a t-shirt in January certainly can change one’s mind; and while I had initially thought the area was nothing but dirt with the occasionally manicured lawn, getting out and doing some hiking proved to me there was great beauty there, it just wasn’t the ‘in your face’ kind of beauty I was used to. It was a nice lazy week and the Phoenix sun burned that cold right out of me. Phoenix you impressed me!

All this time away from Ivy was giving me an unsettled feeling. This is longest I had been away from her in three years, and while I couldn’t think of any one thing that could cause me concern, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to get back to Coos Bay. Well after a very hectic day of travel I arrived back aboard and found absolutely nothing a miss, and waking up the next day to a cold, dreary, overcast and rainy morning made me wonder what the hurry to get back was all about. Oh well, home again, home again, jiggity jig.

My time in Phoenix did not make me forget about the iPhone, as a matter of fact I kept finding ways it would enrich my life. As I had previously mentioned, my internet connection here in Coos Bay is wonky.. ‘There is an app for that’; although it is not something AT&T nor Apple condone, you can tether the iPhone to your laptop, turning the iPhone into a wireless 3G modem, pretty darn cool. Also there is Skype for the iPhone, which allows users to make unlimited phone calls all over USA and Canada for $30/year, never using your AT&T minutes. If this is all starting to sound like an ad for iPhone… let me cut to the chase. I did it, I went to the AT&T store and signed up for a two year contract, and got my shiny white iPhone 3GS 16GB phone. For thirty days and thirty nights I adored my iPhone; downloading apps, listening to MP3′s, getting involved in iPhone forums online,  until the day I read on the web “Under no circumstance will AT&T unlock an iPhone so it can be used on another carrier”. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I sign an exclusive contract with AT&T for two long years, at the end of which I OWN the phone outright, and I cannot then take MY iPhone to a foreign country and use a local carrier? This small print, made this gorgeous, piece of technological art completely useless to me. With a very heavy heart, on the last day of my trial period, I returned the iPhone to AT&T. My life has gone grey, no longer checking the weather every twenty minutes, downloading apps like Virtual Cowbell, seeing how fast I can run by watching my dot on the GPS unit in Maps, nor smugly pulling out my iPhone when deep in conversation, some obscure fact comes into question. Never again to utter the words ‘There is an app for that’. iPhone how I miss thee!

Randy
S/V Ivy

Winter is on it’s way, and so am I! I will be in Seattle 12/22 .. you guys better get the heaters stoked, I am not all too excited about the cold weather I have been hearing about!

It has been an awfully long time since I made a blog entry, and as for living the wild, exciting life of a solo sailor.. well, not so much; the truth of it is I have been mostly bored out of my mind. As you may have guessed, I won’t be anchored off in some tucked away bay, sipping foofy drinks (with the little umbrellas in them) in Mexico this winter. I really tired of looking at all the weather models, trying to line up the wind, the seas, the time of day, and the tide, only come to find the river bar was closed. So I resigned to winter off here in southern Oregon. 2010 will work just as well as 2009.. well better I hope! Besides S/V Distant End, and S/V Isabella will then be coming down the coast, which I hope to hitch up with.

After spending two months in Charleston I realized that was about a month and twenty nine days too many, not that there is anything specifically wrong with Charleston, it’s more there really wasn’t anything there at all, especially after everything closed down for year. John (S/V Morning Light) and I took the bus into Coos Bay proper (my first time into ‘the big city’), to investigate the marina there, as there was rumor that it was even cheaper then Charleston. As it turns out it is $3/ft per month – everything included, half what Charleston was, and Charleston was about half what I was paying in Everett, so being the tight wad that I am you can imagine how this appealed to me! On December 1st we both motored our boats the twelve miles up the river (fear not, neither of us are without paddles), and are now docked in downtown Coos Bay. So nice to be within walking distance of a Safeway, a Fred Meyer and a library. There are some small adjustments to be made, there are no restrooms, showers or laundry facilities at the marina, so we have had to scout around a bit. Another issue is; the entire city of Coos Bay has free Wifi (which on the face sounds like a good thing.. no?), but they have a limit of one hour online, then you have to log off for four; and since there is this free access, there is no competition, so I cannot even buy 24/7 Wifi access… BOOO! I have a workaround, but it requires some computer geekery, and I do not know exactly how ethical it is, even though there are no expressed rules against it.

Since my last installment I aged a year, how in heck did I ever get to be fifty years old? And why haven’t I grown up any! I am now eligible to be AARP member .. <ed. note – remember to insert some hilarious witticism about being an old timer here, maybe something regarding loss of memory..

umm..

where was I?

Randy
S/V Ivy

“….?!” I asked, then after a moment I was able to get out “Please Explain?” Jon said that there had been some noise coming from the engine compartment, and when they got the compartment opened, their motor said “SCREEEEEEEEEEEEECH” and then went quiet and had nothing more to say. Jon said he and Kyle had just been discussing their options, and I told him to let me know what they came up with. After about 20 minutes, I got a hail and they were still undecided, but leaning towards going on, and what was my thought on the matter. This is when the big coward in me reared it’s head, and I said “I think we should go back”.

Even though we probably could have made it to Crescent City, I did not like the idea of having such a big issue crop up so early in our trip. Also there was due a storm on Monday, and if we did not keep a good pace, we might have been caught out in it. Even so, I felt uncomfortable as this was not technically my issue, and I felt a bit as if I was treading on sovereign territory, but as soon as I mentioned my feelings, we all agreed to head back to Coos Bay.

Of course this meant beating into the wind, and the lumpy seas made it no better. I paid the price for not having changed into my foul weather gear, and was immediately soaked to the bone. When I radioed over to Jon and mentioned that Ivy may not have the power to tow La Mouette in, and a call to the Coast Guard might not be a miss, Jon said they had Vessel Assist Insurance and I suddenly felt a great deal better about the whole situation. La Mouette received a few scratches from rafting to the Vessel Assist boat, but all in all we both made it back in unscathed.

After two weeks of diagnosis and troubleshooting La Mouette’s engine has been officially pronounced dead, so it is the breaking of the fellowship. I am very sad to lose La Mouette as a buddy boat, but I feel Ivy and I will meet up with her, Jon and Kyle again.

A word about Crabvolk. Granted there is precious little to do here in Charleston so it is easy to see the attraction to dock crabbing, with the promise of free food. The Crabvolk show up at about 5am with their beer-stocked coolers, 1970’s vintage patio chairs, crab traps and cookers; and homestead whole swatches of the visitors dock. Most do not get that a dock is not a sidewalk, and refuse to make way for any unfortunate enough to need to traverse the minefield of seaweed, gull and dog droppings, and ex-crab parts. Also, they seem genuinely surprised that people might be sleeping, but obviously are not too seriously traumatized by it, as they go right back to screaming, laughing and yelling their off color jokes to their friends at the other end of the dock. It’s always most festive when they bring their children who seem to really love the whole ‘killing things’ aspect, and squeal in delight if they find something to torture a bit before it passes. Unfortunately they cannot crab twenty-four hours a day, and usually quiet down well before 1am.

Just trying to keep the spirits up!

Randy

S/V Ivy

Well Ivy and La Mouette are doing great! We left Newport 10/05 at about 4pm. This all came up suddenly to me as I was still in a bit of a fog from the Westport to Newport leg. I had bundled up my laundry Monday at noon, and was heading to the little launderette and shower in the Marina/RV Park, when I asked the guys on La Mouette what they thought about leaving, and they said “Sure, looks good now?”. Weighing laundry and shower over getting south, I compromised to just a quick shower. Being that I have always lived my life in sort of controlled chaos, I am not over burdened by having everything put away just so; as a matter of fact I still have groceries I bought in La Push still in their grocery bags sitting on the cabin sole! I got back to Ivy, and over to the fuel dock and made my way out the bar. Jon and Kyle obviously have a keener sense of order, as they were another twenty minutes or so behind me. When they did get out off the bar and in open water I saw La Mouette for the first time this trip with her sails up, very pretty! I actually radioed over and said “You know Ivy does like girls, and responds favorably to seeing them dressed so”, Jon responded “That’s all good, La Mouette is French, she goes both ways” (I am just repeating what was said).

I had just brought up Ivy’s reefed main, and had not pulled the jib out of it’s bag as I had not thought we would have winds strong enough to carry, however La Mouette was running with her full main and genny, wing and wing (wing and wing is a sail configuration where the main is let out to a near 90 degree angle to the boat, and the jib or genny is poled out at a near 90 degree angle on the other side), even so we both had our engines going to maintain speed. Another clear night, another big, round, bright moon; if only for the cold it would have been pretty hard to find a more idyllic night.

About the only thing I found odd was the lack of any other boats out and about. I guess this is just another sign that Ivy and La Mouette need to get their tails south, as it is now moving past the point where fishing boats are staying out all night. The wind freshened just a bit, and after a time I got a hail from La Mouette that they had turned off their engine, and were finally sailing unassisted. In hindsight, it was the right call for me not to have set out the jib I think. Wing and wing is a point of sail that requires attention, and being alone it is better for me to remain conservative but I was green with envy, looking at Ivy’s hull I noticed she was too.

Well, another bit of humiliation for Randy.. around 3am I was looking at the chart, looking at our speed, looking at the time, and saw that we were in danger of not catching the slack tide at Coos Bay. I hailed La Mouette and asked them what they thought. Jon said they had just started their motor and we could go faster if we wanted. So we graduated up to about 5kts, and kept that until about 7:30am, right to the mouth of the Coos River bar. I noticed that while La Mouette had arrived a few moments ahead of Ivy they were not heading in, So I took over the lead and started for the entrance. Something just felt wrong, and I couldn’t put my finger on it. So I pulled up my tide chart, and *DOH!* Yes it was just turning slack, but it was turning from ebb to flood, opposite to what I had been thinking. There had been no need to hurry as we now had at least seven hours of good flood tide to make the bar, and La Mouette could have continued on sailing without her motor.. I felt a true moron. Later both Jon and Kyle assured me they had started their motor before my hail, I worry that might be just to protect my feelings.

We made the bar, and I got out my phone and tried calling the marina for slip assignment, when a small fishing boat came up beside. They asked if it was my first time in Coos Bay, after I admitted it was, they said “yeah… you might want to steer a bit more over …. this way” pointing to port, and I realized I was not quite making the turn north, and heading straight for shallow water. As soon as I got Ivy back on course the fisherman said “By the way, the Coast Guard is hailing you, might want to hail them back”. It was all good, the Coast Guard just wanted to know how many were onboard, how long we were staying etc..

Even though it is shorthand to call it Coos Bay, we are actually in Charleston, which is on the south side of the Coos River, and about 7 miles southwest of Coos Bay proper. Crabbing seems to be the one local entertainment as every morning when I walk by, I pass at least a dozen people on the dock with their crab pots out, and even though the faces change throughout the day, some stay out on the docks well into the night.

Randy

S/V Ivy

As I was walking down the dock on Tuesday 9/22, I saw another sailboat tied up, and thought to myself ‘hmmm.. I know what kind of boat that is’. As I got closer, and started to notice more detail, I saw that it wasn’t so much the kind of boat I knew, I knew that boat specifically.

Life before Ivy, yes I must admit there was another boat in my past. A Dufour 27 Safari named La Mouette. Several months before buying Ivy, I had been very serious about buying La Mouette; my brother Dave and I had sea trialed her, and I had her hauled out and inspected, only to find an issue with the keel to hull joint, and that was something I did not think I could tackle. Even after buying Ivy, I would at times, wander the few docks over to where La Mouette was moored to look at her. She is a much different concept in design to Ivy; being more a racer, La Mouette has more severe and angular lines, and she has a fin keel and spade rudder, where Ivy has a cutaway forefoot and hung rudder, so La Mouette while a sturdy ride, is going to be bumpy ride compared to Ivy (any of these terms you don’t know, just go with it, it is technical jargon who-ha only a sailor with too much time on his hands could appreciate).

La Mouette

I knocked on the hull and introduced myself to Kyle one of the two owners of La Mouette, and we exchanged stories. It turns out Jon and Kyle on La Mouette are on almost the exact same itinerary as Ivy and I, so we have informally decided to join forces and buddy boat. One other crew on La Mouette is Jon’s father David, who will now be following and monitoring them from shore on his scooter. Jon also keeps a blog which is very entertaining at http://earthletters.blogspot.com .

Jon, David and Kyle, crew of La Mouette

Well I do not know how long I had initially planned to stay in Westport, or if I had ever really got to the point of thinking that far ahead; but a phone conversation to Mickey and Leslie aboard S/V Distant End made things easy to decide. They both offered to come down to Westport to visit me Sunday morning 9/27, and bring along a new RayMarine ST2000 tiller pilot. While I had originally thought to go with the less expensive Simrad unit, I found everywhere across the country they were out of stock; also I have investigating them both a bit, and general consensus is the Simrad may be a slightly better unit, RayMarine is a vastly better company, and any trouble down the way I will have much easier time with RayMarine. So, if I can get the new tiller pilot rigged Sunday afternoon, Monday 9/28 will be my next ETD for Garibaldi. Meanwhile the crew on La Mouette are busy doing some engine maintenance.

Friday 9/25

My brother Steve and his girlfriend Angel came down to visit. It had been a while since I had seen them so it was great to get some face time. We did not do anything of great significance, just hung out, which was perfect because hanging out with Steve is always an adventure unto itself.

Sunday 9/27

It’s so great to have good friends and family who will drive halfway across the state to come visit you! Mickey and Leslie on S/V Distant End, which I buddy boated last summer, came down to Westport today, and with them came the newest member of my crew, a Raymarine ST2000 tiller pilot. Again, as with my visit with Steve and Angel, we did little but enjoy each other’s company. After cruising last year, I wintered over back in Everett moored right next to S/V Distant End, so we three became very close. In this last Washington port I feel like I am wrapping up the ‘getting ready’, and dipping my toes in the ‘I am a sailor bum’ chapter of my life.

Mickey and Leslie from S/V Distant End

The tiller pilot is disturbingly simple to install, so much so that I am untrustful, and it is taking much longer then really needed; but now with just two wires to connect I can’t see anyway I might have screwed it up, so maybe in the end I am just way over thinking things. I am taking Mickey’s advice, and not initially hooking the tiller pilot into my chart plotter/gps/radar network. It is one more thing I would be worried about, and the temptation to just punch the waypoints in, turn on the motor, engage the tiller pilot, and set my alarm clock to wake me when we have arrived would be too great; besides that is not the experience I am looking for at all. Depending on the weather I guess, I will see how well or long that attitude holds up. Ivy, unlike most cruising boats, sports an unfettered view of the heavens and seas from all points in the cockpit, which is a fancy way of saying I have no shelter from wind or seas when I am at the helm.

Another bit of boat enhancement in Westport is a new VHF antenna. My first attempt leaving Neah Bay with Yang Shi was unsuccessful due to my inability to remain in contact with them on the VHF radio. I was using my handheld unit, which is good for about 10-12 miles, as I knew there were issues with my hull mounted radio. Larry diagnosed the issue, and with Lee so incredibly made a present of a new antenna to me when we brought Yang Shi back around to Neah Bay. I soldered up the connector right then and there, but it was a jury rig situation, in case I ran into problems on my way down, but finally here in Westport I had the time to install it proper, and a radio check showed that I am now receiving and transmitting loud and clear on my hull mount radio as well, and this should now give me a range of over 25 miles.

One final adjust to Ivy is not so much an improvement, but a downgrade. I had outfitted Ivy with a complete new wardrobe of sails, and had been using them up until now. These are beautiful sails, and it has really been heart wrenching to have so abused them recently; so I made the decision to take them down and put up the old ones; but Ivy was having none of taking off her pretty, new, full batten Main. At every turn she fought me, until I had to throw the towel in for the night, then next morning before Ivy was fully aware, I was able to sneak out and get the sail down, and put up her old everyday Main. Yes it has some wear around the edges, and I have had to repair a place or two, but it is fine sail, and should serve me and Ivy well enough down the coast.

Sunday 10/4

We left Westport at 6:30pm Thursday10/1. I went out early to commission the tiller pilot (some various maneuvers one has to do to acclimate the tiller pilot). No issue what so ever crossing the bar, and me fiddling with the tiller pilot, and Jon and Kyle putting La Mouette’s engine through some paces, we started our first trip together. Let me say having a tiller pilot is awesome. Aside from about four hours I had the tiller pilot engaged the whole trip, and two of those four hours, I really just took over for something to do. The tiller pilot did initiate an experience I had not previously experienced aboard Ivy, Seasickness. With so much to do, and so many things on my mind when leaving port, I have never really had an opportunity to sit about, or go down below; and with this new freedom I took a sneak down below to grab my sailing gloves. It was only a minute or so, but I guess that’s all it really takes. It lasted until midnight, luckily it wasn’t projectile vomitingly bad, just a slight case that made me hate everything in the world, especially spiteful of anything food related.

We had scheduled this trip based on average speed of 4kts. Ivy I knew could average between 5kts and 5.5kts, but La Mouette’s engine was much older, somewhat smaller and until recently not really well cared for, and none knew how much of improvement it would get with the maintenance done in Westport. After a few hours out, and making great speed we saw a problem. We were going to be hitting all of our obstacles early, the first being the Columbia River bar. Listening to the WX weather radio station we heard that the Columbia bar was estimated to be it’s worst at 4am right when we were crossing (a river bar can extend out to sea several miles, so while we were not crossing the bar with the intent of entering the Columbia, we still were crossing the bar horizontally), with possible ten-foot breakers; so an enroute course correction allowed us the safety of 10 miles, instead of our previously planned 5 miles. Even with this new course we could feel the waves piling up, as we got close.

After comfortably well past the Columbia, we began to see some traffic. After passing one big ship, it seemed to stop for a long time; then a helicopter took off from it, which buzzed us and hit us with it’s spot light, probably unintentionally, and continued on to Astoria. We figured there was probably some medical issue, as the big ship then continued on.

With dawn the sun came out and we settled into a great day of travel. I had awesome cell coverage so I called, or tried to call several people, but one thing I did not have was a lot of battery left on my phone so I had to give up that game after a while. I saw my first Sunfish, and I have to say they are one ugly creature, and stupid as a brick from what I observed. At about 2pm, Ivy found herself under attack by a crazed seal. I have never seen a seal act like this; it appeared to be having a great time darting in and around the stern of my boat, getting very close then disappearing for a moment, resurfacing far off, only to target Ivy again. I think Ivy must have been disturbing the water and fish, and the seal was having an gastronomic orgy. I was very concerned that with all it’s torpedoing here and there it might get hurt on my prop, so I throttled down and put it in neutral and began to explain to the seal it needed to be elsewhere. My hand gestures and various other attempts couldn’t breech the language barrier though, so once the seal got onto an outward-bound trajectory, I put it in gear and gunned it. Fortunately the seal was either full, or bored, or both as it then allowed me to leave.

It was at this time that we had a good estimate as to how fast the two boats were going, so we took a look at our new ETA of Newport, and found we would most likely arrive at 1am Saturday morning. None of us wanted to try crossing a river bar at night, so we came up with a few alternatives, Garibaldi on the end of slack tide going ebb (not so hot), continuing on to Coos Bay (my personal favourite, but I had serious concerns if I could stay awake the sixteen extra hours), or slow down to make Newport at dawn with the beginning of the flood tide. It was eventually decided to slow down for Newport.

Right at Dusk I saw my second whale of the trip. Off my starboard bow about ¼ mile I saw him jump out of the water, probably got half his body out, then surfaced again right as he got abeam of me, and spouted a ‘hello’. I radioed La Mouette to be on the lookout as they were behind and off my starboard quarter. A while later the whale returned and in the last of the day’s light I saw him blow a spout of ‘see ya later’ and he was gone.

As it had been a clear day, and was promising to be a clear night, I bundled up as thick as I could. I felt sort of like Robot Man bundled so thickly I could barely bend my knees and elbows, but even still I ended up chilled to the bone; in the end the cold served as well as coffee could have in keeping me awake. The full moon robbed the skies of most the stars, but the moon was pretty, so I had few complaints.

At about 4am, I was still about 10 miles northwest of the entrance of Newport and time was really starting to drag, and I asked no one in particular, the sky and seas, or all three “How am I going to stay awake?” I know that the whole ‘the Universe abhors a vacuum’ theory has been disproved, but I think someone should look into the theory of ‘the Universe abhors an unanswered question, asked offhandedly by some guy at sea” theory. Soon after uttering this I saw on my radar a huge hit, about ten miles north of me, looking back up north I saw rain and lots of it, along with lightning. I was still trying to kill time, so I decided to dodge the rain by heading due west. Well, I don’t know if this particular squall had my number, or if I was just bad at determining it’s course, because it seemed to just follow me. It soon became apparent that I was going to get wet, but I still had a choice of where I was going to punch through, so I found the smallest bit of the rain blob on my radar and headed straight into it. Upon entering I thought something was odd, there was no rain, then quietly the boat heeled over about twenty five degrees (heel or heel over is sailor talk for tipping over), and then the wind started to howl, and then the rains came. All I could do was try to keep the wind directly in front of me, and give the motor every bit of diesel it would drink. I think the winds were around 35kts, and the rain; cats and dogs X 2, maybe a tad below cows and horses. It was supremely surreal; everything had that Sci-Fi slo-mo effect of running half speed “I    t h i n k    w e    e n t e r e d   a   w o r m h o l e    c a p t a i n”. Well after about twenty minutes which took an hour, I was wet, wind burned, very much awake and alive and through it. I had feared that Ivy’s 35’ aluminum lightning rod of a mast would attract some electrical attention, but the lightning stayed in the skies.

I contacted La Mouette who had very unfairly missed the entire storm except a few drops of rain, and they stated they were heading in to Newport. I think Ivy was even more excited to hear this then I, which is saying something, and she was like a dolphin racing the last miles in to Newport. Ivy and I got to the entrance of the Newport bar just at dawn, just at slack tide, just ahead of La Mouette, and they told me to go on ahead and not wait as they were both well rested, and I might want to get tied up and in the rack as soon as possible.

I started down the entrance, and saw what I thought were two diagonal amber lights blinking at the far end. Remember it had been a while since I got any sleep, and if someone had said “swimming giraffe” at that point I think I might have seen that instead. I knew two amber lights blinking was a bar advisory.. probably the bar closed, and I think my mind jumped to the worst possible nightmare it could find. It was still so dark that I couldn’t make out really how these lights were situated, but I decided to turn back, get out to open water to figure it out. I tried hailing the coast guard but got nothing back, hailed La Mouette who were just approaching the bar entrance, and advised them of what I saw. They agreed to take the lead and get some better eyes with binoculars (.. yep Randy has to get his binoculars in a better, easier to reach locale!). Once we got down a bit, it was lighter, and plain to see these were red navigation lights on the bridge we were to go under, not any type of advisory sign. I decided I would get all embarrassed about that at a later time, and took over lead spot, as I knew kinda where we were going. We made it in, easy as falling down, got tied up, and I slept until 4pm, up just long enough to make some Mac ‘n Cheese, to have the strength for a real power sleep through the night until 5am.

Next stop Coos Bay, don’t know when, still feeling a bit sleep rich, and dumb from it..

Your's truly in Westport

Randy

S/V Ivy

Ivy in LaPush, wating and waiting and waiting!

I have been waiting in LaPush a few days, mostly being lazy, but looking for some weather to make the next leg down the coast. Throughout the week I had my sites set on leaving tonight at around 5pm, but as has become typical, the closer I get to an ETD the more the conditions deteriorate. I did get out and about the town a little, and took care of two very important details. As insignificant as this may seem to some, ‘where and when am I going to shower and do laundry next?’ is a real concern amongst cruisers. Most bigger marinas have facilities, but LaPush is small, and one has to hike south down highway 101 a fair bit to the Lonesome Creek RV Park and convenience store.

I have had a lot of feedback from people, writing how great the weather has been, wondering why I seem unwilling to use it, and the reason is; I probably have a very different criteria for ‘good weather’. It’s easy to see that most would assume a sunny day would be great on a boat in the ocean; blue skies, a little sun tan lotion, a baseball cap and an ice cold beverage of your choice, sounds good to me! Though the truth is wind and seas are the key, and while the sun can be very good for one’s optimism, rain in fact can be just as advantageous if for instance motoring into unfavorable weather, as it tends to beat down the seas. It all becomes a balancing act, and after balancing out all the weather aspects, I am finding I have yet another scale to balance, and that is time. While I did leave Port Townsend at a good time in the season, some hold-ups I encountered set me back a bit, and I am now feeling a little behind the eight ball. Every day I do not get out and risk marginal conditions, maybe a day I am kicking myself in the butt later, for taking too much time getting down the coast. Let me be clear, the conditions that I am avoiding are not necessarily dangerous or stormy; for all who have seen the movie Master and Commander when the HMS Surprise is rounding Cape Horn? That is not what we are talking about, if it were I would be not sailing nor motoring much more then I am already not sailing nor motoring.

I do not know if this is offering a bit too much on my personal process, but I have a imaginary counsel of trusted friends and family, who I ask to vote yay or nay before heading out. I think I know them all well enough to know how they’d vote. Just thought I’d mention so you can take responsibility if I do something rash because you voted incorrectly. Having reread this all, I wonder if it is wise to state I am having conversations with imaginary people, but heck I did that all the time when I was four or five years old; and as most of you know, I really haven’t grown up much since, so there you go.

Also a number of people have written me stating “this bit or that was over my head” or that I am using “too technical of terms”; strangely I had thought I was being quite lubberly (‘lubber’ or ‘landlubber’ is to sailing, what muggle is to Harry Potter, can be used derogatorily, but often not) in my writing; so from now on, I will define a term parenthetically like I just did, if I sense it may be a term or situation that most will find unfamiliar. Also I had a request that I stop using military time, so you might have noticed I have gone to standard time these last few posts.

South Jetty and James Island at LaPush on a calm day.

Monday 9/21

I woke up Saturday 9/19 at 4am with the intent of leaving for Westport, but as I did my route planning two problems became glaring. First, no way around it, it was going to take me sixteen hours to make the leg, which meant some of it was going to be in the dark, and if I did leave right then, it would have put me at Westport at 8pm at an ebb tide (ebb tide is an outgoing tide; flood tide is an incoming tide; and slack tide occurs between the two where there is no current either way) which is the worst of the four states of tide to cross a river bar. I decided to hold off leaving until 6pm, which would put me at Westport at 10am Sunday morning, a few hours into the flood tide.

I putz about a bit, had breakfast at the little restaurant of blueberry pancake.. very yummy! I walked down to the store to buy quick-grab-it snacks, and then tried to get some rest, but my mind was too active. I did leave LaPush at 6pm, but failed to look at the tide situation I was leaving in (bad Randy), as it turned out it was maximum ebb, and as I pulled out, and turned on my Chartplotter/Depth Finder, it showed I had just one foot clearance under my boat. Randy goes where angels fear to tread, but by the time I knew all this, I was already a bit committed. I crossed the bar no issues, but as turned the corner and headed west out to sea, I was facing some strong willed waves, all stacked up waiting for their chance to break on the beach of LaPush. If given the chance, I think after about half hour of this I would have turned back to LaPush, but that avenue of escape was closed to me, with the ebb tide. At some point in all of this, the sea claimed one of the bungy cords I had been using as a make shift autopilot, and a few other assorted things in the cockpit… o well the boat needed lightening up a bit I guess!

After I made the course change south at about 8pm, the situation settled a great deal, and the seas lost some of their height, if not all of their will. It was quite sloppy (sloppy is in fact a technical sailing term, but I figure if you know me, you already know what that means), and while I was in little danger or distress, I was empathetic to the pounding Ivy was receiving. I was able to break away from the cockpit long enough to raise the main (main or mainsail pronounced ‘mainsil’ NOT ‘main sail’, that would be lubberly: is the typically larger sail, hoisted most aft on a modern sailboat) which was still reefed (reef is a process of making a sail smaller), and that quieted down things much more.

The winds were too light to sail unassisted by the motor (also called the ‘iron genny’, I will explain what a genny is later ..if it in ever in fact becomes applicable), though they were coming from a favourable direction, so with that combination I was able to make a good speed of 5.5kts (kts is short for knots which is a tad faster then a mph, kind of like how a mph is a tad faster then a kph; funny how we seem to be making the measurements slower and slower, I think that is because we all like to think we are going faster and faster). Unfortunately I was going at about the same speed as the wind, so as I sped up surfing down the back of a wave, I would lose all the wind in my sail, and as I slowed down again, it would refill with a slam. Ivy did not like this a great deal, and each time it happened I winced in shared pain; in fact there was much consoling from me to Ivy; yep I talk to my boat too, I am a regular chatty cathy.

As the sun set and the night came on, the stars took my breath away. I remember on Galatea how beautiful it was as night, but I thought some of that might have been romanticizing the past, it wasn’t. There was a new moon, so the stars had no competition, I even saw seven shooting stars. At midnight I started to see a lot of fishing boats, or their lights anyway. It did make me feel a little less alone, and I thought about their crews labouring away in the wee hours; being crew on a fishing boat is no picnic. The winds started to veer north, so they became directly behind me. This added a new twist to the issue of the sail slamming away. Every few dozen times it happened, I would accidentally gybe (to gybe is to bring the sails to the other side of the boat, having the wind cross behind you, the opposite of tack having the wind cross in front of you. Gybing can be very dangerous, and probably where the stick that holds the mainsail down horizontally, got it’s name ‘boom’).

I had worried that I might fall asleep as it had been a long time back in my rock and roll days, since I had pulled an all-nighter. Well, out in the muck there was precious little chance of that. The two pots of coffee I had thought to brew helped as well, but I realized I was going through it pretty fast, so at about 1am I had to start rationing it. Though I couldn’t see how much I was pouring, I limited myself to what I thought to be a half cup an hour. It’s these silly little games one sets up, that allow the passing of time, without them time literally stands still; I know for a fact that it was 2:33am for about two hours.

At dawn It was starting to get a tad nippy, and I kept thinking just a little longer the sun will be up and it will be nice and toasty. Well, the heat from the sun doesn’t happen at the exact moment the light does I found out, and I didn’t actually start warming until I made the course change east at 9am.

When I got to the entrance of Westport there was an endless line of boats coming out. At first I thought perhaps this was just because the tide had turned and was normal for Westport. As I got closer to the bar, I started having quite a rollercoaster of a ride, and my already great respect for the fishing boats I was passing grew considerably, as they were all heading into the waves I was surfing down. The actual crossing of the bar was bracing, I felt a bit like Major Kong riding the bomb in the movie Dr Strangelove, but it was soon passed and once through I contacted the Westport Marina on VHF channel 71 for slip assignment, to tie up my boat. As I slowed down to take down the main, the boat slew through a bunch of algae-ish grass, and immediately the motor started running rough, so I guess I sucked some of it up into the water intake for the cooling system of the motor, and plugged it. I tried to think what to do in that circumstance and the only think I could think of was shrug and say ‘o well’, and try to make it to the slip as quickly as possible.

After tying up, I went to the marina office to pay and was told there that the bar had in fact just opened up, which is why every boat in the marina was either out or going out soon. So the conditions of the bar I had were not exactly typical.

With all the shaking, rolling and pitching I have now put Ivy through, I am finally able to declare the fuel issue that so plagued me last year as fixed. I guess I am so mono-task oriented, I can only have one problem at a time with my motor, so that probably more then anything else is why I am promoting the previous fuel issue to a none-issue.

After getting back to the boat, I slept. I slept pretty much all the way until 5am this morning Monday 9/21. Being singlehanded does have it’s drawbacks as all work, is my work, and there is not another person to egg you on when you are feeling sluggardly. I have taken today as personal holiday to finish out this post, and see a bit of the town. I think I may get completely schnockered tonight, at least that is my plan. As I grow older, I am finding I am becoming a cheap date, and one or two drinks can set me on my tail, but only if I do not fall asleep first, but I hope this celebration is not denied me by slumber.

So I have done my first night crossing, and am safe and sound in Westport. One problem with Westport is moorage is cheap, so I am not going to be able to use that as a reason for moving on, the finally good weather we are getting will probably be enough, as I already feel concern for not making hay while the sun shines.

Westport Marina

Randy

S/V Ivy

P.S. Larry from Yang Shi got me hooked on Werther’s butterscotch candies, as if I need yet another addiction.

At dawn they decided to contact the Coast Guard and apprise them of their situation. They were about half way between LaPush and Westport, and the Coast Guard strongly worded their suggestion on returning to LaPush, as while there was due a temporary reprieve from the wind, it was indeed only temporary, and Westport was at that time closing it’s bar.

At about this point Yang Shi’s dinghy which was being towed behind, with the large and heavy steering vane oar secured inside, realized liberation and self realization was at hand and snapped the shackle holding it’s line and is now somewhere, off on it’s own adventure.

As morning became afternoon, conditions eventually did deteriorate further, and the Coast Guard at La Push decided to come out the 15 remaining miles to tow Yang Shi in, and by all accounts were the ultimate in consummate seamanship. They briskly towed Yang Shi to safety, so in spite of all else Yang Shi’s hull is now very clean indeed. Safe and sound in LaPush it was decided 2009 was not the year for Yang Shi, and she was returning to inland waters.

Those of you who have been with me from the start, know that I had to make the same decision in 2008, and while there are precious few words I could offer Lee, I hope that knowing he isn’t the first to have to turn around, repair and reassess and set their aim on next year, gives him some solace.

Meanwhile back aboard Ivy, I sat through the next few days of icky, ugly, wet and windy weather and I had my own concerns. The sun was rising later and later each day, and setting earlier and earlier. Looking at the various weather models I saw that weak, low pressure systems were arriving about every two days like clockwork. Well, no pun intended, after five days of muck, I saw a ray of sunshine. It appeared that Wednesday 9/9 the final system was clearing through, and Thursday 9/10 on was looking good.

Neah Bay

I had been in contact with Lee aboard Yang Shi, and Larry who had returned home to Arlington. Yang Shi now having had a mechanic fix the engine, was unfortunately down one crew, as Bob had boat maintenance of his own to deal with back in Everett, so I offered to come down over land to LaPush to help deliver Yang Shi back to Neah Bay. Do not think this was altogether so altruistic of me, I had ulterior motives as well. This would give me some experience crewing on someone else’s boat, also give me a chance to dig into the vast knowledge Larry had about seamanship, coastal navigation, and route planning, and give me eyes-on reconnaissance on my next port of call, something I have been lucky enough to do with every port this year.

Thursday 9/10, well in a word the trip back on Yang Shi was.. uneventful. Boy how I love that word ‘uneventful’! We saw some crab-pots, we got some fog, we never did find the buoy off Umitilla Reef, but all in all it was a glorious passage. It is so amazing the feeling of well being a trip like that gives. Could it have been better? Sure, we could have had more favorable winds, and been able to sail, but it was also good to exercise the newly repaired motor. It was a quick trip, I believe we averaged just over 6kts and made it into Neah Bay just after 4pm.

Back in Neah Bay, I was itching to get started, and Saturday looked fair, Sunday was suppose to be better (I am just going to ignore the fact that Fridays exist from now on I think). So watching weather model after weather model hour after hour, as Saturday approached, it looked less and less good.. disheartening! However Sunday was my ace in the hole: North or Northwest winds 10-15kts, West swell 10 feet at 13 seconds, and all models agreed, right up until Saturday night at 9pm; when they all did an about face and forecast Southerlies 5-10kts.. pisser! I went to bed thinking if they still claimed this in the morning, I would be looking at hanging in Neah Bay for another week. Well, I woke up Sunday 9/13 at 5am, and yes all the forecasts were still Southerlies. Just on a lark I rechecked at 6:30am and the new (6:00am) forecast had gone back to North or Northwesterlies. I am out of here!

Leaving Neah Bay

I was able to get everything stowed and ready, and by 8am I got underway, a little later then I would have liked, as I really enjoy the leaving at dawn concept.. a bit schmaltzy and over romantic I know, but I like to think of Ivy and I both waking up at the same time underway. There was no shortage of fog on the way out, and I was battling a pretty willful current. I had a very disappointing run out to Duncan Rock, as it took about four hours, averaging a ground speed of just 2.5kts. Even though the flood was at 10am I found the flooding current lasted a good two hours further. Maybe in the Strait this is a well known phenomenon, as I did notice the reverse happening on the Port Angeles to Neah Bay trip as well.

Southward bound, I made the new course for Umitilla Reef, and I was back up to about 5 kts. As for the North Northwesterly promised? LIES LIES LIES! South wind, 5kt on the nose the entire trip. Larry from Yang Shi had told me that even while motoring into the wind, one can gain some speed by lifting just a little bit of skirt, as this helps stabilize the boat and keeps the prop in the deepest possible water, so I raised the main with one reef, and it did make for an easier motion, I suspect he is right about the speed as well, but it pained me to see my new full batten main getting flogged so.

It was not the worst day ever by a long shot, but gray, overcast when the fog did lift; 10 foot Westerly swells complicated by Southerly wind waves just made for so much slop. The bungy cord to the tiller trick worked quite well, and for half an hour at a time I was able to leave the helm to itself, however I do think a tiller pilot is in my near future. I am thinking of getting the very smallest, cheapest unit out there, a Simrad TP10 (looking for advice and recommendations from all you old salts). Ivy when motoring seems to have a average to light helm, and if I am sailing, if I ever do sail, if I ever get some PREVAILING WEATHER! I will use the self steering vane. I will have to evict the spider now living in it though.

Ivan The Spider

After making Umitilla Reef and heading South South East, I was finally getting some wind on the main, and up to a respectable speed of around 5.5kts. I made La Push at 7pm, being close to dusk it was already getting hard to see, and the near fog made it all the worse. It was tricky coming in, right when you enter the channel and cross the bar, it gets fairly narrow; and I was respectfully nervous trying to make the approach, but once in everything settled down, and I was able to idle the motor down and breathe out for the first time in fifteen minutes.

On a positive note, Ivy freed from the labor of towing her dinghy is now making 5.5kts through the water. I had always planned to strap her dinghy to the foredeck once I got to Neah Bay, but in the attempt the week before I had plum forgot until I got out there in it. Yang Shi’s now unfettered dinghy, underlined the importance of giving my dinghy a little respite.

Randy
S/V Ivy

The plan was to leave 10am, but somehow I got it in my head we were to leave at noon. I tried to get a good night sleep, but woke at 5am after poor and often interrupted sleep, spent a few hours dropping in waypoints in my chartplotter; then saw Yang Shi leaving the marina at 9:45am. I got my Skype up and called Lee asking what the heck?? Well, then it dawned on me that I might have misremembered, and I tried to stow stuff as fast as possible, ate an energy bar for breakfast, and weighed anchor. I left Neah Bay at 10:20am and started hailing Yang Shi, no response… I tried every ten minutes, even threw out a radio check to Neah Bay Coast Guard and they heard me loud and clear. At 11:40am I got a hail from Larry on Yang Shi, saying they were past Cape Flattery, and conditions looked ok; I was still halfway between Neah Bay and Cape Flattery about three miles or so behind. I started hailing Yang Shi again at noon, but no response…

The swells were 4′ to 6′ every 9 seconds or so coming a beam from the west, but the wind was right on the nose 10-15kts, and was expected to stay that way the entire trip, still no sailing for Ivy. Yang Shi with her three crew could keep this up all day and night no issue, but it is work staying at the helm while motoring. I had rigged up a pair of bungy cords to the tiller that more or less kept on course, but it would only stay that way for 10 minutes or so at a time before readjustment. If I had an autopilot it would have been a different story, as that is an electronic device that keeps the helm to a specific compass course, my self steering device depends on wind and requires me to be sailing, and I seem to be doing precious little of that!

At 1pm I was getting a tad frustrated by my lack of radio contact with Yang Shi, the only reason I had agreed to go, was to buddy boat, and since this wasn’t working out, I began to rethink the decision. Still trying to hail Yang Shi every 10 minutes, at 2pm I had reached my point of no return; if I continued I would have to press on at least to LaPush, and the flood tide necessary for crossing the bar did not start until 8pm, right at sunset. In the end I decided to return to Neah Bay as I knew bad weather was coming, and if I made LaPush it would have been staying at the marina at $25/night, and back in Neah Bay I could anchor for free as long as it takes to find good weather.

The return trip was much cooler then going out, and I found I was having to really bundle up; that aside, it was an uneventful trip back in. I made Neah Bay by 5pm, anchored and immediately got my computer out and Skyped Lee. They had run into an overheating issue with their engine just west of LaPush *cough – leaving on a Friday* . I later called Lee and they had fixed their issue and were continuing on to Westport.

It is Sunday 9/06, and the better weather that I was looking for tomorrow on Monday has dissipated some. I may be getting a bit too particular, looking for ideal conditions; but I do not think it is too much ask for the prevailing conditions to return for just three or four days. Weak low pressure systems appear to be hitting the area every few days, and no high of any substance on the horizon until possibly a week from tomorrow, so looks like I may be here in Neah Bay for a while.

Neah Bay is kind of like traveling back to the ’60s, and I mean that in the best possible way. Take away the new cars, the satellite dishes and espresso cafes and you could easily believe it’s 1965. It gives me a warm, comfortable return to my childhood kind of feeling. No one seems to be in any major hurry, and you can just sense the lack of stress here. One thing though, Neah Bay is a dry town, I hear the local Macah officials wanted complete autonomy so with no alcohol being sold, there is no reason for county or state interference. In Port Angeles I loaded up with a six pack of Budweiser, and I am already half through it, man Budweiser sucks.

My refrigerator is rocking my socks right off. One thing I have to watch is; it seems to be a bit of an over-achiever. The first day I loaded it up with perishables, I set it on low, and about halfway up on the refrigerator/freezer knob. When I checked it the next day, everything was frozen rock solid. After turning it back to a quarter the way up it is perfect, and it sips so little power I haven’t even noticed it’s impact. Waeco (Dometic) CF-18, highly recommended!

Randy

S/V Ivy

For an archive of previous sailing adventures see my Sailing Blog at http://gocheapgonow.info