May 18, 2006

There Be No Whales!; laceName w:st="on">SucialaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType> South of the Straights of Georgia.

Position: 48’ 44.68’ North, 122’ 53.65’ West

Captain: Arieyeh J. Austin

Time on Water: 9 hours, 10 minutes.

I have to start this log entry with a brief comment on what it is that I particularly enjoy about sailing.  I do not really know why I am writing this, as it has nothing to do at all with our trip, and even less to do with anything I care for a stranger to read.  It does, however, have relevance for my children, I suppose, as I have dragged both them and my wife with me for the better part of two-three weeks on this little boat purely for my own selfish reasons.  Sailing to me is more then just the adventure of traveling to places in distance locations that few people, if any, have been to.  I’ll admit that I do fantasize from time to time about the occasional pirate or Indian, whom I am sure is watching us from the darkened recesses of the islands we pass by.  This does keep me going on the periodic moments of frustration that Nesaru has given me.  I read somewhere that the sea is the true equalizer of all men.  That once a person goes to sea, he truly can find himself and determine just who he is, and what he is capable of.  While some would sneer at this, or think it a bit extreme, I personally happen to believe in its validity.  I like the challenge of picking a place on a chart and saying, “I can get us there.”  I know how to sail the boat, how to trim the sails…  if the wood splinters, I can repair that, or if a sail rips, I can fix that too.  Every day that goes by I become more self sufficient not only as a sailor, but also as a human being.  My greatest down fall has been my lack of knowledge on diesel engines, which has already been a particular sticky point for us on this trip and may prove to be so again.  My complete failure of being able to care for our diesel engine has already cost us time, resources, and money on this trip, not to mention our own safety.  Hence, I have found my fault, my hurdle, on the sea.  It can and will be fixed with time, and I will become a better person for it.  I have already learned DC power and marine plumbing 101, now diesel mechanical repair will have to be added to the list…  I also like how the sea and water challenge you physically.  It is both mentally and physically draining to steer a vessel in 30 knot winds for 8-12 hours bobbing up and down in 5 foot surf.  If you can do that, and still care for your boat long enough to get your family and you to your destination, wherever it may be, then you have completed the mark, so to speak.  The reward, you ask, for all of this toil and sweat?  The reward is arriving at a location and being closer to nature and your surroundings then anyone else, and appreciating it because you alone posses the knowledge and capability to get you there, and you and your family alone persevered the challenges required to achieve that pinnacle.  When we see dolphins or seals, or the bald eagle floating overhead, we see them because we deserve to see them, because we fought to see them…  the average yachtsman on his 50 foot 300 HP diesel engine boat has no idea what I am talking about, and I would just assume keep it that way. 

We left laceName w:st="on">DeerlaceName> laceType w:st="on">HarborlaceType> and headed for the laceName w:st="on">SucialaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandslaceType>, the furthest set of Islands on the San Juan islands to the North, which look into the laceName w:st="on">GeorgianlaceName> laceType w:st="on">SealaceType>.  They were supposed to be remote, and we were looking forward to the fight to get us there.  We wanted to be alone, and to BBQ clams and oysters on the grill over an open fire.  There was NO wind to speak of, and so we would have to rely on our 13 HP diesel engine to get us there.  We traveled through the North Pass North of Yellow Island and around the west side of laceName w:st="on">JoneslaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType> into the San Juan Channel, South of Flattop Island to laceName w:st="on">SpiedenlaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>.  My brother and I, Adon, used to play a game at our grandfathers called “Survive”.  In it, the island was slowly sinking into a volcano, and you had pieces that you had to get to other islands.  The more pieces (people) you saved, the more points you would receive.  Some of the island turned into whirlpools as it sunk, killing your pieces.  I had never seen a whirlpool until today.  As we passed to the east of laceName w:st="on">SpiedenlaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>, we were caught in a terrible current.  The boat began to drift toward the island, and we noticed that we were not making any forward movement.  We tried for several minutes to get out of the current and tidal drift around the island, but eventually caught on that not only were we still being pulled toward the shore of the island, but that we were also moving backwards.  Amazed, we decided to tuck tail and run around the long way of the island to get to the Sucias.  It added another two hours onto the trip, but we could see no other choice.  I had run right into our very own whirl pool!  I can see now how people have died when caught in these.  A kayaker or swimmer would never be able to get out without help.  We traveled south of Spieden Island through Spieden Channel north of Sna Juan Island, and then South of Stuart Island past Johns Island before cutting back toward Waldron Island.  We spent most of the trip desperately looking for whales, as this was area was reported to be the best place to look for them, but we never in the entire time we were out saw a single one.  Finding them would be more of a challenge then we had thought, it would seem.

            Once we reached laceName w:st="on">SucialaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>, we were more then slightly disappointed with what we found.  Although at one time laceName w:st="on">SucialaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType> may have been distant and remote, or a paradise for cruising sailors, it was now so thick with large motor boats that it reminded me of misquotes on a slab of beef sirloin.  They were truly everywhere.  I noticed in short order that we were the only sail boat in the bay, and that no one seemed even remotely interested in assisting us as we tied our boat up, or for that matter in even talking to us!  I do not know if it was because they were as disappointed as we were at there surroundings or it is was simply because of a, “inner city on the open water attitude,” that prevailed here.  Barb and I tried to meet several different people as we passed them on the shore, but no one was interested.  Frustrated at the “laceName w:st="on">DisneylaceName> laceType w:st="on">LandlaceType> paradise for Motor Boaters” the Sucias had become, as well as the rude, overpopulated, nature of the island, we did not enjoy our stay.  I will add, however, that on a long walk the next morning Barb and I walked over to laceName w:st="on">FossillaceName> laceType w:st="on">BaylaceType>, on the South East side of the island.  No one was there, and the bay had some wonderful rock formations.  Additionally, the beach was littered with clam holes and hundreds of oysters.  Regretting our decision of mooring locations, we returned to the boat and prepared to depart.