Part
2 - July 19 to August 7, 2008.
(Click
here to go back to Part
1 which covers July 3 to July 18)
Saturday July 19, 2008 - Day 15
Carllie: 1136 hours, 1,388 miles to
go - officially past the half way point hurray! The fog cleared as
the sun came out today and provided much-needed heat for today’s
outdoor showers. I started rationing water about a week ago as this first
half of our trip was taking far longer than we had anticipated. Even though
Garett calculated that we were using about 1/4 gal. less than our 2 gal./day
allotment and we had still had enough for 20 more days, I figure it’s
better to have too much water than too little (I really don’t want
to have to go without washing for the last few days of our crossing),
and with those extremely light winds we had no idea when we would pass
the North Pacific high and begin to get steady winds, so I started using
salt water for all hand and sponge-washing and showers, using only a little
fresh water to rinse off.
So! Back to today’s MAGNIFICENT showers…I
waited until that reliable ol’ sun--which comes through even on
the gloomiest of days--had actually burned off the fog and provided a
little warmth against the cooling breeze in 60 degree F air temperature,
before I stripped off and scurried onto the sunny side of the aft deck
for my shower with LOTS of heated salt water (no limited to that! what
a luxury!) followed by half a litre-bottle of fresh water. Wow! Did that
feel great! Salt water is very invigorating--I had discovered this through
my daily swims in Mexico and Hawaii—even when used in smaller quantities
to bathe or shower. After toweling off and a teeny bit of air drying,
I felt terrific! Maybe the cool air combines with the hot water to create
the effect of hot-cold-hot-cold showers we have at home. After a somewhat
unsettling night on studious “fog watch” it was very refreshing
and much needed.
We had tuna sushi for lunch today, as I made so much
last night. Yum yum all over again. Grilled tuna for dinner.
Fog watch started during the first watch, Garett’s,
from 8 to 11 p.m. By the time I stumbled out of bed for my watch, visibility
had been reduced to half a mile. This was my first experience in fog since
we sailed down the Oregon and northern California coasts in August two
years ago, and I was pretty nervous with it at first as you really do
feel like you have blinders on and must rely on your radar and be very
diligent in checking it. Unlike the nights in those halcyon sunny days
and clear nights when we had little or no wind and perfect visibility
for miles and I sometimes dozed through the 20-minute watch alarm, tonight
I was on high alert and studiously put on my boots and foulies every 20
minutes to go out into the cold cockpit to check the radar for traffic.
At midnight, only an hour after I came on watch, I returned
to the cockpit and took the radar off standby mode. Was I surprised to
see a big radar blip only a few miles aft of us! (“Bogie incoming
at 5 o’clock!") I knew it was a freighter by the size of the
return, and immediately hailed him on VHF Ch-16: “This is the sailing
vessel Light Wave hailing the freighter 4-5 miles aft of us.
Please respond.” I repeated that message once more before an indistinct
voice came on mumbling something possibly English but certainly incoherent.
“Say again,” I said. He mumbles again. It’s definitely
not their captain nor regular radio operator. I try to start the motor
to take evasive action, but the battery is drained. I throw open the hatch
and yell for Garett telling him there’s a freighter coming up on
us 3 miles astern and I can’t start the motor. While Garett puts
on his boots and jacket, I go back to the radio and give the freighter
our Lat/Long position. This numbskull on the freighter then says, “Sorry,
I made a mistake,” and I think, “What??” Maybe he had
been hoping to talk to a friend on another freighter way out here in the
middle of the Pacific? Anyway, I can’t get another peep out of him,
and I don’t know if the helmsman on the freighter is aware of our
position or not.
By now Garett has hauled out our quick-start jumper battery
for the engine. I had already removed the cover over the engine so he
could attach the terminals, but first while I am bearing off 30 degrees
on the Autopilot Garett tries to make contact with the freighter. Two
minutes later, the lights of this huge freighter loom out of the mist--bow
light and high stern light identifying it as a very big ship if the size
alone didn’t convince us—he’s about 300 yards off our
port side (Garett says 1/4 mile but I don’t think so) and I’m
panicking.“Start the engine! Start the engine!” I squeal.
Garett phlegmatically and quietly says, “It’s okay, he’s
passing us.”(The fact that we can in fact see his green starboard
light and not his red port light, shows he is not coming towards us but
is indeed passing us), but is I am not convinced and the hair on the back
of my neck is standing up. However, sure enough that big freighter does
rumble past a good ways off…
After that I continued my very diligent monitoring of
the radar every 20 minutes. It was not what you call a “peaceful”
watch! I made a quicky noodle soup to calm my nerves, ate crackers and
even made a hot chocolate! What a piggy. By morning, even though I had
had another 3 hours of fitful sleep during Garett’s second watch,
I was so strung out that I really needed that shower!
My sketch of the freighter passing us 300 yards
off on a foggy, foggy night. Yikes!
A foggy morning.
Garett doing burpees in our cockpit.
Garett baked a coconut loaf from my
Quick Breads recipe book. It was okay
but nothing to write home about...sorry sweetie!
Sketch of my considerably more delectable
real bread, "Irish Freckle Bread" (see NAME? menu).
Irish Freckle Bread turned
out really good, and it's so
easy to make.
Sunday July 20, 2008 - Day 16
Carllie: 0943 hours, 1291 miles to Victoria,
Gentle sea, slow long swell, 5-8 kts SW wind: This trip home across
the vast wide Pacific has been far more like the idyllic crossings we
envisioned before our rough passage from Mexico to Hawaii. From the 3rd
to the 13th day out of Hawaii, we had calm seas and very little wind (3-5kts
of wind) 10 days of the 11. Even now, with more wind (7-12 kts), a big
long swell and foggy conditions, sailing is peaceful. During the calmer
times we had clear night skies and moonlight, but even now we can see
the moon shining through the fog, and last night we saw what Garett calls
a “Moonbow”!
Obviously it's not possible to set up a
tripod and photograph a "moonbow", so
here's my attempt at a sketch of one. A moonbow
is an unexpected touch of beauty on a dark
night at sea.
For lunch we enjoyed cold char-grilled tuna leftover
from yesterday, fabulous with a bit of mayonnaise for a dip. It’s
such a treat to eat that fresh tuna from mid-ocean as it is so sweet raw,
and delicious grilled.
Garett: I predict arrival time in Victoria of 4 p.m.
on Wednesday July 30th which would make it a 25-day passage.
Brrr! Still a bit chilly, but I am enjoying
soaking up the sun's rays today.
All the lines Garett had set up for added
protection and grab lines gave me extra
laundry lines as well. It's tough to get
things really dry in the middle of a vast
body of salt water, however.
El Capitan reading one of my books.
Grey skies aft...
...and in front of us.
Monday July 21, 2008 - Day 17
Carllie: 1615 hours, 1130 miles to go!
Today was really a sleepy day for me. Could be because I didn’t
rest at all during my two watches as we were really racing along last
night at between 6 and 7.5 knots with huge waves chasing us, and I do
sleep just a wee bit better in the daytime in these conditions, stretched
out on the cuddy couch. I have vague memories of disturbing dreams dealing
with a lot of water…
Yesterday we opened a special care package from our friend
Kasandra Dasken at home, of games to play and Patrick McManus stories
to read aloud and kill ourselves laughing over. Garret tried to teach
me how to play Sudoku, but I went into my “cross-eyed, brain bunged-up”
mode very quickly and after an hour begged off to play the much more enjoyable
Mexican Train Dominoes. I know this game (Sudoku) of mathematical deductive
reasoning would be good for my brain and mental processes, so I tried
again by myself this morning on my second watch and didn’t let myself
get frustrated with it this time, but still the trick and magic of this
game eludes me. It’s more fun for me to challenge myself to write
an accurate and colorful description of some experience, or to draw one
of my simple little drawings than to struggle with figuring out where
each number from 1 to 9 fits in each row and each box of Sudoku. But thanks,
Kasandra. Garett enjoyed it. Maybe I’ll catch on eventually.
Last night (early hours of this morning) during my watch
I also tackled Lesson 15 of Pimsleur’s Spanish III. Unfortunately,
we hadn’t copied Lesson 14 onto our MP3 player, so Lesson 15 (actually
my 65th Spanish lesson) was “mas deficile” (very difficult).
I had to look up unfamiliar words in our Spanish dictionary. It is always
so mentally stimulating to complete a Spanish (or other language) lesson,
and it has been great to have the time to be able to do these language
lessons once a day as you make much faster progress that way. I study/learn
languages because it makes my brain feel good. I will have to do a Google
search “learn a new language to maintain a healthy brain ”
or something like that. Surely I can learn Spanish and even a few phrases
in Japanese and Cantonese, then I can wrap my mind around Sudoku?
The swells have now moderated and wind lessened, and
we are sailing at a little more comfortable 5 knots. It has been a cool
damp day with air temperature of 59 degrees F. and 87% humidity. Fog seems
to be lying in wait, but there is a high overcast.
We had a pancake breakfast late today, so skipped lunch
and at 4:45 we will have another dinner of grilled tuna-mayo-onion salad,
potato-carrot-sprouted garbanzo beans-egg salad and tomato-onion-sprouted
beans marinade along with Garett’s “La especialidad de la
casa” (the specialty of the house), cured tuna (like lox), cream
cheese & onions on crackers. (Way too much to eat, but it was good
entertainment value!)
Finished our relaxing day with another 5 rounds of Mexican
Train Dominoes. It’s nice to have this TIME to spend together. In
land life, we have an hour together in the morning, then about 4-5 hours
at night when we are both tired. It’s been a blessing having all
of this time to enjoy life together. After all, we did choose each other
as life partners!
Before retiring to the “sleeping hull” I
practiced my ukulele again for about an hour. I love having music an active,
growing part of my life, rather than just passively listening to the music
created by others. My private karaoke singing when I wail away with every
CD I put on--from the soundtrack to “You’ve got Mail”
to the dulcet country tones of the Dixie Chicks--only takes me so far
in musical satisfaction.
Garett laughed so hard over the Patrick
McManus short stories Kasandra had
sent us he looked like he was in pain.
It was funnier to watch Garett than pay
attention to the story.
Our fabulous dinner, too much of
it, earlier described. We have the
time to be creative cooks at sea
or in a peaceful anchorage.
The sun sets on another day.
Looking for that green flash again,
but there was too much cloud tonight.
Tuesday July 22, 2008 - Day 18
Carllie: 0609 hours, 1075 miles to go
:o), Carllie’s watch: It is a foggy morning, visibility about
1/4 mile, checking radar every 20 minutes as we found freighter blips
on our radar twice last night. As we get nearer to the continent we will
undoubtedly see more and more freighter traffic, traveling to and from
Alaska, Japan, Russia, North America, and even South America. So we will
have to keep our eyes open and radar ready. Even if it’s not foggy
our Furuno radar has a range of 16 miles, beyond sight of our horizon
on deck, giving us lots of advance warning if anything approaches.
We are now heading almost exactly due north, sailing
wing-on-wing downwind, because the wind has backed to the south from SWS.
Eventually, when Garett gets up, we will reset our sails for a broad reach,
starboard tack, which should put us back on our GPS track of 060 degrees
(east-northeast) for home. It is good to make northing, however, as we
are expecting a “low trough” in a few days, generating northwest
winds of 15-20 knots, and we will have to head due east when that arrives.
“Dinner in a Bowl” - Dinner
tonight was borne of my experience with our new Kuhn Rikon pressure cooker
over two years of offshore sailing. It’s served in one bowl each,
and made in one pressure cooker. And it’s delicious and nutritious.
See my Rice Lentil Pilaf recipe in Cooking on Board (link to come).
Garett setting up whisker pole again
for another downwind wing-on-wing
sail.
Trying to coax a dominoes tile
out of a side port on our computer.
Oops! Luckily, he succeeded.
And here's the naughty culprit!
Wednesday July 23, 2008 - Day 19
Carllie: 0625 hours, 952 miles to go!
Fog, light rain, cold! (Hard to tell we’re nearing home!): I
am getting pretty efficient about putting on my boots and storm jacket
every 20 minutes to go outside into the wet, cold, foggy morning--or night--to
check the radar for “bogies.” Inevitably when Garett calls
me for my last watch at 0500hrs, I am in the deepest sleep I have had,
and all I want to do is go back to sleep. This, of course, is not possible
right away, but once I settle into my watch as soon as I have done each
20-minute radar check, all I want to do is slip out of my boots and jacket
and snuggle up on the our Polartec-covered couch with my Polartec-covered
pillows and Polartec blanket. It really is amazing how soundly I can sleep
in the next 15 minutes until that 20-minute alarm beeps again. Before
we “found the wind” and the fog descended on us, I had actually
been known to sleep right through the alarm after a few seconds of its
unfriendly nagging, even though I always put the wrist watch producing
this racket right beside my head--ergo pretty darn close to my ears. As
they say, “You only hear what you want to hear.”
Stopping this journal entry to do my radar check, I spied
a mass of rain heading our way from the SE. This is likely the second
part of a weather system that Garett predicted a few days ago (after analyzing
our Weather Fax downloads). We got the “warm front” (if you
want to call it that) last night again during my watch, 11 p.m. to 2 a.m.,
with 10-15 kt winds from the southeast. I put our rain-catcher hose into
the port for the water tank before I came back inside as that rain shower
showed on radar as being only 4 miles away. Sure enough, it is now raining
and our water tank is being fed lovely fresh rainwater.
In our calm days at sea (evidently
now over), during several nights while resting in the sleeping hull, I
heard the happy chittering of birds flying over. Each time these birds
flew close over Light Wave, and I heard them talking away to
us. It was quite entertaining and I smiled and chuckled at them while
snuggled into my cozy berth listening to their chittering. Couldn’t
catch a photo of these small birds that fly so fast, skimming the wave-tops
much like swallows skim treetops and lake waters at home, but I did sketch
this drawing of those birds, and of the big “gooney bird”
that followed us for several days (we are not absolutely sure it’s
a gooney bird, but it sounds convincing.
Our chittering "wave skimmers"
in the background and the big
"goony bird" that followed us
for hundreds of miles, in the
foreground.
As 5 a.m. approached, before I started this watch, as
usual I was sound, sound asleep and, as will soon be ascertained, dreaming
vivid dreams. Suddenly, I heard the hatch being thrown open and Garett
yelled, “Carllie, it’s 15 after!” then slammed the hatch
closed. Fifteen after! Boy, I slept in, past his first call. Poor Garett.
I fling back the covers, throw on my warm sweater and boots and charge
up the stairs. Where’s Garett? Not outside as he usually is, waiting
for me to take over. I open the cuddy door, and there he is drowsily peering
up from his prone position on the couch. I cheerily call out, “Sorry
I’m late!!”
“Wazzat?” he says. “You have another
hour to sleep!” I tell him he just threw open the hatch and told
me it was 15 after five. “No I didn’t,” he says. “Are
you shurrrr?” I demand (this is my constant response to Garett’s
declarations of truth). “It wasn’t me,” he says. “Another
hour.” I figure I must have had a very vivid dream, and scurry back
to my warm bed, laughing at myself as much as a half-asleep crewman can
laugh.
Garett making quesadillas. Yummy!
Thursday July 24, 2008 - Day 20
Carllie: 0635 hours, 835 mile to go!
Sea slate grey, sky light grey; 12-15 kt NWS wind and bigger seas, 4-6’
NW swell: Since I have come on watch at 0500 hrs, the winds, now
from the NW, have increased steadily to 12-15 kts now, along with the
seas. Have to keep slowly heading off to the east to make sailing smoother
and more in control. In this kind of sea state, whenever LW’s speed
hovers around and surpasses 7 kts, we have to do something to slow her
down a tad.
As some of these swells pushing us along are now 6 feet
high, and we are doing some pretty good surfing down the waves, I am wondering
if Garett--who unlike me sleeps with his head forward up into the bow--is
feeling the blood rushing to his head and it’s maybe waking him
up. Usually, when the seas and winds get a bit hairy he is wide awake
by the time I call him to relieve me or to help shorten sail--even though
he crams a set of our handy-dandy memory foam earplugs into his ears and
can hardly hear a thing, as do I when I go down to sleep. Garett is so
attuned to LW’s motion that he knows instantly if things are getting
iffy and his captain’s instincts wake him up--like a mother to the
cry of a child.
It’s really quite amazing how the sound of the
wind and waves is diminished inside the cuddy cabin with the door shut...
Thinking about these last 19 days at sea, I realize how
wonderful it has been to be free of all the demands and distractions of
even being at anchor in some lovely bay, let alone living in a city amid
the huge population of an anxious people. We have so far (knock on wood!)
been pretty lucky with our weather. Many days I have not taken any form
of drug to prevent seasickness, a real sign of how good the weather and
resulting sea conditions have been. (And also a happy sign that I am at
last achieving some degree of mastery of the dread mal de mer.) Consequent
to all of this good fortune, we have had time--time to enjoy each other’s
company; time to ponder life and try to understand the big picture; time
to work on our personal projects like writing, writing improvement exercises,
ukulele, Spanish, Cantonese; time to contemplate the life that lies before
us and how we will manage “re-entry” into that world while
retaining the perspective and peace we have gained in our two years of
exploring.
Garett: On my 8 p.m. to 11 p.m. watch the wind started
to build. We had reduced sail at dinner time to just the drifter as with
we doused the poled our screecher at 4 p.m. when we hit 9 knots. By 9
p.m. we were going again 7 to 8 knots and it was time to take the drifter
down and put up the jib. To take the drifter down you have to go to the
bow of the boat and we make it a rule that even though I am tied to the
boat through my safety harness I don't go forward unless Carllie is there,
so I waited until the change of watch at 11 p.m.
When Carllie came up we reviewed the procedure and how
we do it because in the past we have managed to run over the drifter and
get it dragging under the boat as a parachute, which happened once 18
months ago approaching San Francisco. Even with our best intentions to
use the wind to pin the sail to the rigging by slowly turning the boat
into a beam reach to prevent running over it, we still managed in the
dark to drop some of the sail into the water. It was an exciting 10 minutes
as I slowly pulled it back over the bow beam on a dark and windy night.
Making our "one pot dinner"
in our fabulous Kuhn Rikon
Pressure Cooker--that I will be
sure to use at home.
You can see how the fog has
closed in.
Friday July 25, 2008 - Day 21
Carllie: 0710 hours, big seas, wind
NW 12-18, rough! Water 56 F Air 53 F. Brrr! I was going to write
about how Light Wave “swallows things” like pens,
flashlights, books, and then spits them up later when she finds them unappetizing
(like the pen that was missing when I wrote the first part of this journal
entry, and then reappeared for the last part.) But it is so rough and
windy right now I am not inspired to humor. We are still 2 degrees south
of where we need to be to get home, and the wind is from the northwest,
so it’s hard to make the northing we need to make. I am concerned.
We really do not want to end up in Tilamook, Oregon stead of British Columbia,
as there is no way we could sail up the Oregon coast at this time of year.
When Garett went off watch and I came on at 0500 hrs,
the seas were really big, 9-10’ swells following us, and the wind
strong. However, Garett had full sail up (I don’t even think he
had reefed the main), and we were flying just ahead of the seas. He assured
me that we were fine, as we were sailing at a controllable speed just
over 5 kts. Well, Murphy’s Law kicked in and within half an hour
of Garett’s going down to sleep, the wind picked up and we were
careening pell-mell down the waves. When we began spurting over 7 knots,
I lowered the main.
The wind continued to veer more and more to the north,
and the seas got rougher as the big swells continued to build. Eventually,
I knew we needed to hoist the main again so that we could maintain our
northern course. We were at 46.12 degrees Lat., and I knew we had to make
48 degrees to get home. The wind was now 15-20 knots north-northwest so
the main would have to be reefed before we raised it, and as I did not
yet know how to reef the main, I waited for Garett to get up at 8 a.m.
By 0745 hours the seas were rough and I knew we also needed the main to
sail a little fast er than the big swells and waves that were bashing
us around a bit, so I called Garett up to help.
With a reefed main the motion was a bit better, but we
really could not head up (toward the wind, north) at all as the waves
and swells were too big. Garett knew from our weather faxes that the wind
would be backing to the southwest tomorrow and assured me that we would
be fine sailing downwind (almost due east) for the day.
So al in all we had a pretty turbulent weather day. But
just as we were setting the reefed main in the morning and my spirits
were flagging with all of this rough weather (I had been babied and grown
soft with the favorable weather thus far), a friendly pod of Pacific White-Sided
Dolphins paid us a visit to cheer us on! While Garett raised the main
(and instructed me on how to reef it so I can act independently next time),
I called out to them, “Hi there!” and we cheered while watching
them ride our bow waves. They bulleted towards Light Wave singly
or by two’s, from aft, the beam sides or forward, streaking just
under the surface of the water with their distinctive white patches on
black making them visible and easy to track. They break the surface with
a swishing sound, you hear a quick “poof!” as they breathe,
and they curve instantly back under the water in about a second. They
stayed with us for about 45 minutes, watching us when they raced past
the cockpit just as we watched them. We continued to call out to them
and to think joyous, thankful thoughts to them. Soon, we became absorbed
in our morning routines and they were gone when we next looked. It seems
to me that if they are in the vicinity when you need a little morale boost,
why they will just come on over for a little playtime, reminding us to
have fun with the ocean.
A sketch of a Pacific White-Sided Dolphin
playing in our bow waves.
A pretty day dawns.
Morning is always welcome, after a long
rough night at sea--even if it is still rough!
Saturday July 26, 2008 - Day 22
Carllie: 0106 hours, 613 miles to go,
grey skies and sea but sun is peaking through the clouds!, wind now from
W-S-W, big rolling seas, but not rough. Water 57 F and air 55 F. How cold
can it get?? Even though I have been looking
forward with great joy to seeing all of our friends again when we get
home, I am finding they are starting to crowd me! My dreams are full of
colourful and highly unlikely sit-coms peopled with my huge cast of friends.
I am starting to feel a tad resentful… Stop crowding me! (hah hah,
just kidding...in reality I can hardly wait to be with our friends again)
For two years Garett and I have roamed this part of the world in our tough
little catamaran. We have plucked bouquets of new friends all along the
way, and it was only occasionally in those first five months that I was
so homesick I longed to go home and pack up the pursuit of this dream
and adventure. However, as Garett had predicted, the ideal place for me
at this time in my life was out on the water in nature, far from the pressures
of city living. Last year I loved being with so many friends when we did
some volunteer work in the summertime, but this year methinks I may have
to create a little more “quiet time” in order to mix and mingle
happily.
Today, the seas are slate grey, but those big swells
have abated to 3-4 feet west-southwest. As Garett predicted (maybe he
will have another life as a meteorologist?), the wind has backed to the
west, and will continue slowly to back to the south. We are heading almost
due north now on a beam-to-broad reach (from heading due east yesterday),
which makes me happy as we had actually fallen slightly south yesterday
even though we made good miles going east.
Today I will bake some bread. So we will have fresh baked
bread for the rest of the trip. Five more sleeps! Five and a half more
days until we reach land! I plan to put out all of the fishing lines when
Garett gets up…maybe we’ll catch a salmon!
Water, water everywhere...
Sunday July 27, 2008 - Day 23
Carllie: 0712 hours, 507 miles to go,
very light SE breeze: Waking up in the morning has always been a
challenge for me. At home I solve my morning sleepiness by having a hot
shower, finishing it with cold-hot-cold. On Light Wave at sea,
every morning Garett calls me at 5 a.m. for my final watch. Can you believe
it? 5 a.m.! Always I am so sound asleep at that time that it takes me
a few minutes to even muster the will to roll myself out of the berth
I’ve snuggled into. Eventually, I stumble out into the bright light
(sunrise was at 4:30 am today), squinting and shivering and wishing nothing
more than to snuggle back down on the cuddy couch and stick my thumb in
my mouth. However, bit by bit my cells begin to wake up as I force myself
to slip into my boots, pull on my jacket and toque and go outside into
the cockpit every 20 minutes to actually watch for other vessels. I scan
the horizon 360 degrees, and every other time I turn on the radar to do
a broader sweep. A safe sailor is a careful sailor. Initially, after each
outdoor excursion I collapse onto the cuddy couch and snuggle in for 15
minutes of shut-eye. Bit-by-bit, as my mind wakes up to do the watch,
my body wakes up. It’s an interesting way to start the day!
Garett: The weather faxes show a fairly
deep (for this time of year) 998 millibar low to come by us this evening.
The winds started at 10 knots this morning but have slowly built through
the day. By 6 p.m. we were sailing with a reefed main and jib. After dinner
we were down to just the jib and still making 5 to 6 knots.
2000 hours: I am all bundled up
in more storm suit and am sitting in the cockpit in the dark (no moon
and cloud cover - very dark) with my ear plugs in to dull the noise while
Carllie goes to sleep for her off-watch. I have the drogue all ready for
deployment later tonight as the weather faxes off the SSB are predicting
25 knots of wind.
2200 hours: The wind continues
to build as we hit 7.2 knots--almost time to put out the drogue--but we
fall back to 6 knots. A few minutes later we are up to 7.5 but quickly
drop down to 6.5. I say to myself, "Next time it goes above 7 knots
I am going to put out the drogue." Two minutes later we surge to
8.5 knots and the boat is jerking and straining? It is time for the drogue.
In 10 minutes I have it ready to deploy after making sure the lines won't
tangle with anything as it plays out. I let it go. Thirty seconds later
the speed settles to 5 to 6 knots and the jerky motion is gone. I really
can't believe the difference. It is now 2300 hours and I wake up Carllie.
She too felt that the boat had seemed out of control but is now much better
with the drogue.
Back to Carllie: 2315 hours, my first
watch this night: The boat creaks and shudders, a halyard bangs and
rattles in the mast, and the drogue lines groan on each side of the cuddy
cabin, taking the load of the drogue that is single-handedly putting the
brakes on. Light Wave would otherwise hurtle down steep waves
out of control and in danger. ("Whoa, Light Wave! Whoa!)
Garett just said that the drogue is worth a million bucks. He only deployed
it about an hour ago, when LW’s speed suddenly accelerated to 8.5
knots--way too much. Downstairs in our sleeping hull I couldn’t
sleep and felt the violent motion. Then shortly afterwards, everything
seemed to calm down. [This was when Garett deployed the drogue.] I could
still hear the waves rushing by, but the motion was steady, not jerky.
As I was lying there worrying, I decided to come up early to relieve Garett.
It’s always much better to be outside in the cockpit watching and
feeling the water, the wind, the sails and the boat as down in the hulls
all sound and motion is amplified and things always seem much worse than
they are.
This little weather system reminds me of what we coped
with almost all the way west across the Pacific from Mexico to Hawaii
back in March in those “La Nina” reinforced trade winds. It’s
a challenge to our courage and mental toughness. We will manage. And the
sun will come out! :o)
Grilling some tuna before the
gale comes up.
Garett is ready for the gale that starts tonight.
Monday July 28, 2008 - Day 24
Carllie: 0620 hours, 411 miles to Victoria!
Huge, slate-grey seas, drogue deployed: The south-southwest wind
continued to howl through the long, black night. We think it is 25 to
30 knots (We spoke to a sailboat the next day who was then about 50 miles
behind us and they had recorded 28 to 32 knots through the night on their
windmeter.) The phosphorescence in the huge foaming curling waves that
surrounded us provided the only vestige of light. Again, the solitary
confinement created by the dark night amplified our senses. Our seriously
effective earplugs shut out the scary sound of the racing waves and much
of Light Wave’s protests to being manhandled so, but our
eyes continued to register the size of the waves and the rapidly accelerating
number on the GPS knotmeter. It was a long, dark and stormy night--and
let us hope it was the last we will experience like it for a long, long
while!
I woke Garett up an hour before my watch was over last
night as my heart was racing along with the boat. We still had our jib
up, and I wasn’t sure whether or not to lower it to reduce our speed
by 2 knots. The “monster” waves were crawling up our backside
and I thought it might be a good idea to continue to let Light Wave
simply race before them so that she wouldn’t get caught and
be pummeled by them. Light Wave surged up to 6.5 or even 7.5 knots, and
the drogue would haul her back to 5.4 or 4.4. It was amazing and reassuring
to see first the knot meter race up to over 6 knots and to feel that borderline
out-of-control speed of our “sturdy little lightweight cat”
being slowly but inexorably dragged back to a controlled speed of 5.2
to 4.4 knots, time after time.
When Garett came up and took in the conditions and how
fast we were racing, he agreed that we should take down our last sail,
the jib, and run bare poles (as much as a catamaran can, considering its
width and even cabin height, compared to a monohull, presents a much bigger
surface for the wind to push than simply bare poles!). “We can always
raise the jib again if we need to go faster,” Garett said. But as
soon as the jib was down LW’s speed decreased to a more sedate pace
of 5.4 to 3.4 knots (being continually held in check by the drogue), and
the jerky motions were almost gone. Whew! Now we felt much more in control.
What a relief!
Nevertheless, the wind resulting from the big low that
was passing through us continued to build through the night, along with
the size of the waves. Four times a big wave caught us and broke into
our cockpit, but luckily we were inside so we didn't get doused. The first
time we were looking out and saw the wave crash into the cockpit, then
push the arm of our Raymarine Autopilot off the pin, and suddenly we were
without auto steering. Lucky thing we were watching! We both ran out and
Garett quickly pushed the “Standby” button on the Autopilot
controls, then grabbed our tiller arm and the Autopilot. While kneeling
down to replace the Autopilot arm back on the pin that is welded to a
sturdy stainless steel arm connected to our tiller, he was doused by another
“playful” wave. I watched anxiously and pressed the “Autopilot
On” button at Garett’s command. Once again, our hired extra
crew, Helga, was on duty steering the boat safely with the help of our
other hired crewman, the Paratech Delta Drogue.
We took this photo through the window
of our cuddy cabin door.
It is mean nasty at dawn as
we tow the drogue behind us
off a bridle. It is almost
miraculous how the motion and
speed is controlled. Every catamaran
should have one ready to deploy.
Doing some work during
the storm. Life goes on.
Lucky we have a warm and dry
boat, lots of Polartec jackets and
blankets and even a good catalytic heater!
Big wave that has passed by us and now
in front of Light Wave. The fact that you
can actually see how big this wave is shows
you that it is really big as waves don't
photograph well. They aren't "photogenic."
Big 15 foot wave looming behind us.
You can see the drogue line going into the
face of the wave. The drogue
is 175 feet back.
Another big wave...
Here you see our two bridle lines that lead
out to the main drogue line.
Even in the late afternoon we
still had 12 foot waves
come by. We only had four
that broke into the cockpit and
it was only the top 2 feet of so
of the waves that made it over the
cockpit which is 2 feet above the water.
Tuesday July 29, 2008 - Day 25
Carllie: 1900 hours, 249 miles from
Victoria!!! After 24 hours of big wind and huge seas, we reveled
in sunny skies most of the day today, while the winds moderated to 10-15
knots west all day today. The only thing that lingered was HUGE seas from
the west--still about 12 feet high but fortunately quite spaced out. Because
we had taken in our friendly drogue crewman--who not only slows the boat
in big wind and seas, literally putting on on the brakes, but when used
with a bridle controls the motion of the boat, keeping it going straight
down the waves and preventing broaching--we have been rolling around a
bit more. Thus our other crewman, the Autopilot, is having to work harder
to keep us on course.
We started the day with long outdoor hot showers--of
salt and fresh water--and after a day and two nights holed up in our cuddy
cabin (it was too rough and noisy to sleep below), it was a rare treat
to stand outside in the warming rays of the sun even though the outside
temperature was 55 degrees F. with an added wind chill factor.
Garett even did two sets of 20 burpees in the cockpit
before his shower. These are exercises where from a standing position
you drop down to a crouch position, push your legs out behind you and
do a push-up, then jump up, then ; down and do another. I tried doing
them, but the deck coming up to meet my face as I dropped down to do the
push-up was too much for me. I call these exercises “barfees”
not “burpees.”
Solo dos mas dormidos toda via (only two more sleeps
to go!) until we get to Victoria. We are looking forward to a long walk
and eating Chinese food in Victoria, and at last having no more motion!
Although th waves are still big
the sun is shining and glistening on
the water, and we are filled with optimism
and anticipation.
Drying all the towels, jackets and
socks that had gotten wet over two days.
I had hung up Garett's expensive yellow storm
jacket outside to dry out, and strung a line
through the arm to keep it from blowing away.
Here I was trying to figure out from which
end to pull the long line that I had it tied to...
pulling first one end, then the other...
Finally, I collapsed in hysterics...
Wednesday July 30, 2008 - Day 26
Carllie: 0027 Hours, 223 miles from
Victoria: Does life really exist outside of this ocean-going pod?
We will have been 25 days at sea as of 12 o’clock noon today, and
starting our 26th day, and the feeling of this vessel constantly moving
through this world of water seems like all I know. What is “sold
ground” anyway? If a 15-foot wall of water coming up on your stern
to sometimes lift the hulls and slide under Light Wave and other
times smack the aft deck and cuddy wall like a recalcitrant child is not
solid, what is?
We have settled so much into life aboard our “sailing
vessel” (vs. “sailboat” which implies a stationary object
that sometimes sails or motors) that we will likely miss this perfectly
coordinated and cooperative life when we are back living on land, each
of us involved in our daily efforts to “earn freedom chips”
and to further our personal goals. We will have to work consciously to
maintain this ease and harmony--within ourselves, with each other, and
with the Universe.
A gift from the sea--we catch
our last tuna of the trip. What
a treat! Sushi! Sushi!
Garett is repairing our drogue
line here. Very capable sailor, he is.
Sure enough! Another batch of
sushi coming up!
Sushi plate for the night.
Yum yum. Tuna freshly caught
in the middle of the ocean is the
best for sushi! Our taste buds our
now "educated" and we may not
enjoy restaurant tuna sushi or
sashimi any more.
Thursday July 31, 2008 - Day 27
- Arrival Day!
Carllie: 1344 hours, 8 miles from Ucluelet
(being unable to make Victoria): Life is motion. To be at one with
the Universe on the ocean, one must accept its constant motion. Some people
who practice meditation to harmonize their minds and energies with the
power of the Universe would think that to do so requires a still, physically
quiet place. However, inner peace can be achieved even on a tossing sea
because the ocean is a simple, straightforward and perfect reflection
of the laws of intelligence of the Universe.
Garett: I briefly spotted the mountains of Vancouver
Island at 5:40 a.m. this morning above the low clouds in the soft light
of dawn. I let Carllie sleep to 6 a.m. as we now have changed course from
078 to 056 so we can go to Bamfield (only 48 miles away) instead of Victoria
(129 miles). The forecast is for the winds to build to gale force by evening
and so we are motor-sailing at about 4 knots in 5 knots of southeast wind
on a close reach just managing to keep on track to Bamfield.
Carllie wakes me at 11 a.m. and shows me on the GPS that
though we are still heading 056 there seems to be alot of current flowing
north and so are actual track is 030 which means we can't get to Bamfield.
We decide to now head for Caroline Channel and Ucluelet which is 8 miles
closer.
1300 hours: The wind is now 15 to 18 knots and building
from the southeast and we are making 6 knots on a very close reach into
the driving rain. It looks like we may make it.
We are now only 4 miles out and it still looks like just
another average day fitting right in with the past two weeks of foggy
weather. It is hard to believe that there was land up ahead but both the
GPS and the radar confirmed it ahead. Ever so slowly the clumps of land
that form the Broken Islands of Barkley Sound began to appear out of the
mist. At first they seemed out of place in our world of steely grey to
bright aquamarine blue water of the last 26 days. It didn't really feel
like a landfall but more like an arrival in some mystical (or "mistical"?)
place. Was this perhaps Middle Earth? Would we be greeted by Hobbits?
I eventually could make out the entrance buoy to Caroline Channel and
15 minutes later, after a following the dogleg down the channel, we were
at last out of the ocean swells and anchored in the perfectly flat, protected
Spring Cove. When I heard the chirping cry of a Bald Eagle I knew it wasn't
an imaginary place but our home waters of British Columbia. We had really
made it back home.
Carllie: 2330 hours, anchored in Spring Cove, about
a mile south of Ucluelet on Vancouver Island: We anchored at 1540
hours, after 26 days and 9 hours of sailing. What a relief! The wind came
up around 12 o’clock noon today from the east-southeast and built
to 15-25 knots. We had motored through the night and soon were sailing
on a pretty fast, very close reach, approaching the coast. There were
lots of freighters coming and going out of the Strait of Juan de Fuca,
so we kept our radar on even though we had 6 miles of visibility.
It was great to see land again--especially the land that
we call home, with its green, green shores, birds aplenty, mountains and
cold, invigorating rain and wind. A bald eagle called soon after we dropped
our anchor, and that was a welcome sound--so pretty and so evocative of
the wild.
Spring Cove is a pretty little cove and really provides
good all-weather protection, but for us protection from the southeast
gale blowing out there is perfect, not to mention the bliss of stillness
and not having to be aware of our sails and the constant wind and motion.
In truth, we are glad that because of that gale we couldn’t make
it up the Strait of Juan De Fuca to Victoria (the capitol city of B.C.
where we would have anchored at the government dock and check in with
Canada Customs), as originally planned, as it would have been too much
“urban shock” to tie up to the dock in the middle of downtown
Victoria with throngs of people passing by and the racket of traffic.
We feel a great sense of accomplishment. Garett is very
happy and keen to tell everyone our stories. It’s nice to be home!
My heart was full as I
sketched this little drawing.
Garett's early morning (not enough light)
picture of our first B.C. log.
Looks kind of like a whale, don't you
think???
Seagulls fill the air as another of several
freighters rumbles past in the distance.
Seagulls! We are no longer alone on the
vast, trackless ocean.
Delighted to be home, making
a final omelette at sea...
But it was still wet, foggy and--brrr!--cold
when we reached land. Not quite like landing
in Hilo back in March!
All smiles, Garett has again captained us
across the vast Pacific Ocean, this time
to conclude our sailing adventure.
The beautiful shores of British Columbia,
beautiful even on a cold foggy day,
were a delight to behold... It's been
so long...
Passing the green bellbuoy as we
enter Caroline Channel, heading for
Spring Cove just before Ucluelet.
Carllie gets the anchor ready to
deploy, the first time in 26 days.
This is always my job...
View from Spring Cove on a wet
cold evening, but cozily tucked up
in the anchorage and enjoying
a hot dinner and our heater...
Anchored in Spring Cove in
front of a house with very good
wireless internet that allowed us
to call friends to tell them
we are home.
Carllie braved the rain and wind to
go outside to secure the jib, which
could have started flapping around
in the wind...
Garett sets a record for the number of
tiles he had to pick up. Hah hah hah!
(See this Sylvie & David???)
Friday August 1, 2008
Garett: The gale force winds and rain blew
all night and into the morning so we couldn't get an early start and only
pulled up anchor at 11 a.m. so we definitely would not be going to Victoria
today as planned. We decided on Bamfield 15 miles away where we could
clear Customs.
We motored into the leftover southeast swell
and arrived at 4 p.m. I hurried up the ramp to make sure they weren't
closed but found out that the Canada Customs office has been closed for
5 years and that we would have to go to Victoria. All was not lost as
they have a great store with vegetables and fruits which we have been
craving for the last 10 days.
Carllie: Grappler Inlet: This is
such a pretty inlet, just east of Bamfield Inlet. It is protected on all
sides and is totally quiet at night once all the sportfishermen have returned
home. Pretty little homes and a few more palatial cedar open-beam designs
line the shore, blending with the tall conifers surrounding them and providing
dock access for the fishermen who own them.
This inlet, Spring Cove and Bamfield Inlet are all perfect
anchorages. There was not one such fully protected anchorage in all the
places we visited on the U.S. coast, in Mexico and in Hawaii. We had become
so accustomed to open anchorages, that it seems almost abnormally calm
in these lovely havens. It is so silent right now even though lights are
are on in many houses so lots of people are at home, and it is so still
that it almost feels like we are on land.
Views from Spring Cove in the early morning before we
left.
Traveling back out Caroline Channel the fog lay in a thick
layer among the trees.
First time Light Wave has been tied up at a dock
since last December in La Paz!
The general store in Bamfield is a
cheery, firendly place, well supplied
with lots of lovely fresh vegetables
and fruit.
Colorful flowers filled flower boxes along
the boardwalk on the north
side of Banfield Inlet. Don't miss Light Wave
hamming it up in the background!
Grappler Inlet, right next to Bamfield
Inlet is much quieter and very pretty.
A still night descended on us, and
we drank in the calm and beauty of
the place.
Saturday August 2, 2008
Garett: We were up at 6 a.m. and spent the
day motoring mainly against the tide toward the Strait of Juan de Fuca.
The northwest winds that we had hoped to sail fast with failed to materialize,
and eventually we accepted that we would not reach Sooke let alone Victoria,
so we tucked into Port San Juan and anchored with a few other boats off
the little coastal settlement of Port Renfrew for the night. We needed
a rest in our journey south.
Port Renfrew.
Oh well! If you can't fight 'em
you may as well join 'em. Let's
have some popcorn!
Anchored for the night in
Port Renfrew.
Late evening amid several boats
at Port Renfrew.
Sunday August 3, 2008
Garett: We left in the pre-dawn darkness.
Soon we were enveloped again by fog and droned away on with our motor.
At noon today the water temperature dipped to 48 F and the air followed
along to 48.5 F, the coldest temperatures on our crossing. I have just
been cold for too long. All this talk about Global Warming...well it can't
happen too fast for me. I do know that sometime in the next 24 hours we
will turn into the Gulf Islands and we will get warm again. We think this
is some kind of final test.
Finally at 6 p.m. the fog cleared just
as we were off Victoria. The sun was out and the Gulf Islands appeared
as we rounded Discovery Island and anchored off the bluffs of Finnerty
Cove near Cordova Bay. It is great to be home.
Carllie: Oh, to be home! The familiar sights
and sounds of Canada are met as welcome friends by our souls. We rounded
the corner south then east of Victoria and saw Mount Baker in the distance,
a very familiar sight for Vancouverites even though it’s in the
States.
The sea birds that abound on these shores are indeed
a welcome sight. We may be short of fish in Canada, but we are certainly
not short of birds. In ever little anchorage we have stayed in on the
west coast of Vancouver Island we have seen and heard Bald Eagles. Of
course, we see different types of seagulls everywhere here, and many other
species of water fowl like sandpipers, oyster catchers and so on, but
we never saw them in Hawaii, although we did hear many beautiful inland
tropical birds, and saw a few.
As soon as we rounded the corner from Victoria, the ocean
swell stopped. As we have lived with varying degrees of ocean swell since
we left Mexico on March 4th, 2008, well really since we left the Strait
of Juan de Fuca to head south to Mexico back in August 2006, and the ocean
sans swell seems very unusual and extremely cushy.
It is nice to be in home waters again, but we are glad
we decided not to stop in Victoria to check in with Customs as we would
have been smack dab in the middle of a city, with a lot of people and
traffic noise. Instead, we will clear Customs at Port Sidney Marina tomorrow.
The way we have eased back into “civilization”--Spring Cove,
Bamfield, Grappler Inlet, Port Renfrew, and tonight Finnerty Cove off
a quiet district on the east side of Victoria, then tomorrow Sidney to
check into Customs--is a much better way. We still feel peaceful and quiet
undisturbed by the thoughts and feelings associated with the land.
It is interesting to be among Canadians again. They do
indeed speak in a more clipped, British Way than Americans and Hawaiians,
and they are much more reserved and very polite (not that our American
and Hawaiian friends aren't)’. I am happy to be home!
The cold continues 48F water and air.
Cabin is cold for Carllie the typist.
(Don't I just look like a real
"Little Old Lady" in this pic? hah hah hah
better to laugh than cry about it I guess!)
Fog surrounds us on the final leg to
Victoria.
Heavy fog near Sooke.
Victoria emerges from the fog, as
we sail by.
Our beautiful screecher continues
to pull us along.
Approaching Finnerty Cove
just before sunset.
Monday August 4, 2008
Garett: It is warm again! We motored the
10 miles to the fancy Port Sidney Marina for Customs. After completing
all the formalities over the dock-side phone we went for a long walk around
town, our first in 30 days. It felt great to be moving freely again.
We were off at 2 p.m. for Montague Harbor
at Galiano Island. As we neared the main anchorage we saw over 100 boats
moored and anchored, so we decided to not go in but instead decided to
head for the north side of the spit, a bit more open but a little less
crowded. Just as we were about to change direction we spotted Magic,
an stunningly beautiful classic wooden schooner, with our friends Vicky
and Craig Johnsen whom we had last seen on the day before we left La Paz
( they shipped their boat home on a Dockwise freighter to Nanaimo a few
weeks after we left). We could see them waving as they had recognized
our yellow cat from far away. We anchored closeby and then scooted over
in the dinghy for a happy reunion. They had been very encouraging to us
when in Mexico as they are very experienced offshore sailors. We exchanged
stories for a couple of hours. It was great to see them again, and we
hope we will cross "wakes" again in the future.
A beautiful sunrise from Finnerty Cove
near Cordova Bay near Victoria.
Still drying laundry, but it's
now nice and warm in the Gulf Islands.
Tied up at the dock at the beautiful
Port Sidney Marina.
The Snowbirds welcomed us back to
Canada. We'll have to write to
Prime Minister Harper to thank him
for sending them out... almost beats
the fireworks the Hawaiians had for
us the night before we left Hawaii!
Someone was having a pretty exciting
barbecue at anchor outside Montague Harbour!
I just had to snap a picture of
these beautiful Canada Geese as they
sailed regally by...another greeting we thought.
A still night in the Gulf Islands.
Home at last.
And a sliver of a moon says hello...
Tuesday August 5, 2008
Garett: We stayed motionless at Montague
for the day and finally made it to shore for our first run for almost
four weeks (our last run was the day before we left Hanalei Bay). We were
a little winded but it felt good to be moving again..
More pictures from our beautiful
anchorage outside Montague Harbour
at Galiano Island.
This is a "before" picture as I began
giving Garett his classic "Sean Connery
in Hunt for Red October" cut.
I'm getting pretty good at cutting
his hair, and will probably keep
doing it. Why not?
Brrr! First swim in Canadian waters in
over two years...and the water is only
55 degrees! I tell you, it was just a quick
dip and dunk, no swimming!
Peace settles over the islands.
Wednesday August 6, 2008
Garett: We covered the 15 miles through
Porlier Pass to Dionisio by 3 p.m. Tonight we saw the city lights of Vancouver.
Tomorrow we cross the Strait of Georgia and we will be home among our
old friends.
Carllie: We motored from Montague to Dionisio
Point, a beautiful little spot on the northeast tip of the same island,
Galiano, and enjoyed our day there. Garett actually donned his wetsuit,
hood and flippers and went spearfishing. And he caught a fish! A beautiful
black reef fish with neon-blue stripes. Hope you can see them in the picture.
This is one of the most picturesque spots in the Gulf Islands, and this
anchorage is a friendly one for catamarans as it is a little rolly for
monohulls..
Getting ready to take
the plunge. This suit is only
3mm and so is not warm
enough for B.C. waters.
Need a drysuit...
My first BC speared fish.
Our last sunset...
Thursday, August 7, 2008
We had a relaxing morning, as we did not have to leave
Dionisio until about 10:30 a.m. to time our arrival at the river for flood
tide so we would not have to motor against the strong ebb, so we enjoyed
a lovely walk around the little peninsula that forms the eastern boundary
of the little anchorage, and took some great shots of Light Wave in this
picturesque setting.
Light Wave's final night.
She had sone well.
The crossing home was fun and full of anticipation. We
sailed most of the way, and about a mile from the mouth of the Fraser
River we were met by another Welcome Wagon pod of Pacific White-Sided
Dolphins. The different pods must have all been given a heads-up by head
office to watch out for a yellow cat, and be sure to welcome us home!
They played in our bow waves for about 15 minutes and we told them how
much we loved them, how beautiful they are (really there are no dolphins
as beautiful as these), and how glad we were that they could welcome us
home. What a rare treat. Really, don't you think now after reading this
whole update that dolphins, perhaps the whole cetaceon family, are somewhat
telepathic?
Garett: What a two-year adventure it has
been. It seems in some ways as just one long day. The memories are so
clear, not the usual fuzziness of city living. We really felt like we
are alive. So many wonderful people, amazing places, and the soothing
rhythms of nature. Where do we go from here?
Carllie: I am full-up with beautiful memories.
What is life, after all, but a whole package of memories that we can gaze
back on and draw from? There is room for more memories, though, and we
are already beginning to make them here at home in this beautiful part
of the Planet Earth. We hope you have enjoyed our pictures and stories,
that in some way we have taken you with us on our wonderful voyage of
discovery. And we hope you will continue to read our reflections as we
post them. Much love to you, our dear friends.
Home at last.
Your sailing buddies,
Carllie and Garett
(Click
here to go back to Part
1 which covers July 3 to July 18)
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