May 17, 2006

• Marc Broman (Marina Manager)
• Nicole Cocherl (Marina Harbor Master)
• Swimming Pool, Showers, Breakfast
• Historic Schooner
• Very Friendly, “We’re here to serve you!”
• Resort and pool
• Whale Watchers no data… whales had achieved eluding us up to this point
• Charter Boat owner questions (lots of questions about our boat, offered to give slip for work)

May 16, 2006

Animal Friendly; laceName w:st="on">MassacrelaceName> laceType w:st="on">Bay & SkulllaceType> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType> and laceName w:st="on">BlindlaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType> off of laceName w:st="on">ShawlaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>.

Position: 48’ 35.17’ N x 122’ 56.01’ W; 48’ 37.64 N x 122’ 58.55’ W

Captain: Arieyeh J. Austin

Time on Water: 7 hours, 12 minutes.

            Before I begin to even discuss the days events, I think it would be prudent at this junction to mention the wildlife of the San Juan Islands.  We have noticed so much, in such a condensed period of time that we have become remiss at noting the different species of both plant and animal life which frequent these waters in such a large magnitude.  Honestly, Barb and I had left our home port in the hopes of seeing perhaps one or two bald eagles, etc.  Since these have become daily occurrences, we have left them out of our notes, or have begun to at least.  So, I will begin this entry with a few notes on the most frequently sighted creatures, with the preface that we truly do see them almost every single day.  For the naturalists out there, I would recommend the islands as a great opportunity to see these creatures very… “up close and personnel”.  We’ll start small and work our way up.

            On every island we have stopped at, we try to spend a hour or so combing the beach.  You can usually find hundreds of different plants and animals there.  We have noticed that the region is very thick with aggregating Jelly fish (Eutonina Indicans).  They are in every harbor and bay we have been in.  They have a transparent umbrella with short tentacles, and are about 1 3/8’ in diameter.  We have even seen some clusters of these creatures in the thousands, floating harmlessly on the tides.  In a lot of the marinas, you can see Plumose Anemone (Metridium Senile) growing/attached to the docks.  They are smooth and white, sometimes brown as well, with fewer then 100 tentacles.  They are usually about 2-5 in long.  Sophia loves poking them and watching them retract into themselves, although I try in vain to stop her now.  Although I hate them, all of the rocks on the beaches are covered with Spiral Tube Worms (Spirorbis sp.), which are small white snail like worms in white shells attached to the rocks.  They are only ¼’ in size, but when you see one, there are trillions. As far as mollusks and clams, go, this has to be the center of the universe.  When the tide resides, the ebb shows the home of the mudflat snails (Batillaria Curningi) which coat the beaches.  They have a small screw like shell which is grey and brown with only 8-9 swirls.  You can also see the Pacific Blue Mussel (Mytilus Trossulus) which coats all of the pilings in the marinas.  They grow in infinite numbers, so much so that they coat one another, growing right over the shells of the ones attached to the hard until you pull them off in groups of 30 or more.  I do not know if they are good to eat, but have never seen anyone try to do so in the marinas.  I do think you can get them in stores, and would recommend doing so as the water in most marinas is stagnant at best.  At any rate, they are blue or brown with a smooth small shell, about 2-4 inches long.  It seems these little guys can attach themselves to almost anything, including dock lines and the bottom of some boats.  I’ve already related the tale of the Pacific Oysters we have been eating along the way.  I thought they would be harder to find, but are not.  I can not see how anyone could ever go hungry here.  Just find a bay where no one is at, walk along in the shallow water, and pick up every oyster you see… Shuck, and eat…  At any rate, they are technical referred to as Crassostrea Gigas.  They have grey or white shells with a dark purple hue.  They are ruff edged and a bit hard.  Pry them open from the front.  If you try anywhere else, it will crack the shell.  Believe me when I tell you, if the shell is closed, an oyster is in there!  I’m not going to mention barnacles… there everywhere, and the enemy of all boaters, so we will steer clear of these.  They are like fenders and bouyes, they just keep popping up.

            Enough on the smaller things for now.  Here is what I would think will interest most people interested in traveling to the islands.  Every island has a tour boat which it advertises will show you the wildlife of the islands and Pacific Northwest.  Barb and I always get a kick out of these.  We have not spent a single day on the water where we have not seen them.  Some of these unfortunate couples are spending $2-300 dollars for a daily cruise, most because they have no alternative.  I would gladly take anyone out for a day with us, as long as they were willing to arrange their own transport upon arrival at our destination.  It is a one way trip, after all…  The American Bald Eagle is not an endangered species – believe me.  Every island has one-two of these magnificent creatures swirling over head.  It is one of the top predators of the bird world.  Some of the pictures we have taken have some with wingspans of over six feet!  They are brown at younger ages, something we did not know.  At times we have confused them with the Golden Eagles, which we also see a lot of as well.  We have seen River Otters on several of the islands, to include Port Ludlow and laceName w:st="on">JameslaceName> laceName w:st="on">IslandlaceName>.  The Harbor Porpoise (we were hopping to get lucky enough to see one) joins us on every trip.  They are marine mammals which are smaller then Dall’s porpoise’s and a solid brown color.  We noticed a lot of them around laceName w:st="on">OrcuslaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType> over the past few days.  Something I did not expect from them, however, is that they seem very uninterested with swimming along the side of the boat.  Actually, they try to avoid it.  You can not miss them when they come up for air, fortunately, as they glisten in the light.  Harbor Seals, such as the one in laceName w:st="on">FridaylaceName> laceType w:st="on">HarborlaceType>, are absolutely everywhere.  They should make a hunting season for these guys!  They are up to 6 feet in length, and can weigh up to 200 pounds.  Every rock you can see on the water is covered with these guys.  Their partners in crime, the Steller Sea Lions, cover every bouy in turn.  They are truly magnificent to view in the wild.  They have a beautiful golden brown color, and are huge, weighing in at up to 2,000 pounds!  The Huron Crane is always on the shore, particularly at low tide.  We see them digging from clams and crabs.  They are splendid creatures, with very long legs and necks…  We mentioned the deer on laceName w:st="on">JoneslaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>, as well as the bats, and of course the famed raccoons on James island.  What more is there to see?  Orcas – that what…  Barb and I plan on watching “Moby Dick,” with Gregory Peck tonight in preparation for our hopeful, “whale hunt” in two days.  We will spend several hours on the water in search of a Minke Whale, Killer Orca Whale, or a Gray Whale, all of which are reported to be North of Orcas Island in the fall and in May, on the 18th.  If we are lucky, this will have made every pain we have experienced along the way well worth it, and complete any and all expectations we have had for wild life.  I know it would thrill Barb to death if she could see one, and so I plan on letting Barb captain that day.

            As for today, the tides: the Low Tide/Ebb was at 1248 PM at 2.6 feet negative, with a high tide at 9:34 PM, at 8.8 feet.  This meant that the optimal time to depart from Jones Island would have been around 1100 AM during the slack, as the tides flow from the South to the North in the flow, and North to South during the ebb conversely.  This always seemed to mess with my mind, as I am used to the opposite in the Puget Sound.  The currents around the islands are always messed up because the water is broken up by all of the shoals and reefs, etc.  In order to travel with the flow around the South Side of Orcus Island, we decided the slack, or shortly before or after it, was our best bet. For some unknown reason, and against all logic, I wanted to travel to a place called laceName w:st="on">MassacrelaceName> laceType w:st="on">Bay & SkulllaceType> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>, mostly because of its unique history.

            As it turns out, in the mid 1800’s a band of marauding Indians from the north, which were reportedly on a slave gathering expedition, destroyed the Lummi villages which were located on this bay.  The grim names which have been given to them serve as reminders of those past slaughters, and were simply to good fro me to pass on.  Getting to them was another entire matter, however.

            Barb and I thought that getting into the laceName w:st="on">WestlaceName> laceType w:st="on">BaylaceType> and more specifically laceName w:st="on">MassacrelaceName> laceType w:st="on">BaylaceType> would be a simple matter from laceName w:st="on">JoneslaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>.  We had underestimated the currents again within the islands, and again it would haunt us.  We traveled South from laceName w:st="on">JoneslaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType> around the West side of the laceName w:st="on">NorthlaceName> laceType w:st="on">PasslaceType> and attempted to enter to the East through Neck Point, traveling through Wasp Passage South of Crane Island.  The wind was more then favorable, and so we raised all of the sails shortly after our departure and were traveling at a brisk 7 knots as we reached our intended entry point.  We found jagged rocks in every direction we looked, and had to hastily re-plan our route.  We ended up going North of Cliff Island.  It is not the best way in the guide books, but it is the only one we trusted after looking at the water.  The tide currents were strong, and pushed us around quite a bit.  We had soon passed Broken Point on a broad reach, and were able to tack into the West Sound and run with the weather all of the way past White Beach Marina to our destination.  In the past there had perhaps been some great events which had occurred here, some unfortunate calamity of destruction, but all we could see now was a simple island and bay.  There was nothing to indicate that we were at the famed “laceName w:st="on">SkulllaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>” or laceName w:st="on">MassacrelaceName> laceType w:st="on">BaylaceType>.  Disappointed, we tucked tale and close reached all of the way back to the South side of laceName w:st="on">OrcaslaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>.  We spotted several different clusters of Dolphins along the way, as well as two different eagles which were floating lazily over laceName w:st="on">PolelaceName> laceType w:st="on">PasslaceType> and laceName w:st="on">CranelaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>.

            Once we reached site of laceName w:st="on">BlindlaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>, we made a decision to stop at Orcas Landing at the ferry dock to get some much needed groceries prior to our landing.  The weather was perfect, and we were coasting at a clean 7-8 knots at a broad reach in the channel.  Nesaru was handling very smoothly, and was heeled clean over.  There were waves coming over the bow, and I was gleaming with contentment.  Few things can satisfy my hopes and dreams as a good brisk sail.  I delayed moving onto the channel until the pains of hunger forced me to repent.  We tacked and headed in.  There were several different people that met us at the dock and commented on the view.  They had been watching us in the channel and seemed to have liked the show.  Rather that was for or against our benefit is unknown to me (we are after all only mediocre sailors at best).  Their was an old hotel, “The Orcas Hotel”, at the top of the ferry landing which offered views of both Blind Bay and Blind Island, as well as Harney Channel and Shaw Island

            After getting several steaks and other such meals we headed immediately over to laceName w:st="on">BlindlaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType> laceType w:st="on">State ParklaceType>, off of laceName w:st="on">ShawlaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType> in laceName w:st="on">BlindlaceName> laceType w:st="on">BaylaceType>.  The island had several mooring buoys which we tied up to.  We dinked into the rocking shore and enjoyed a Grilled Chicken Dinner with Mashed Potatoes, Stuffing, Corn, and Wine.  Sophia spent the time gathering fire wood, and then eating roasted marsh mellows.  There were several Canadian Geese which shared the fire with us.   As we returned to the boat for the evening, a Huron Crane was fishing for crab off of the East shore.  It was nearly perfect.  After we put the girls to bed, a fishing boat moored to a buoy adjacent to ours.  I told Barb they would be stinking drunk within the hour simply from looking at the condition of their boat.  As sure as rain on a cloudy day or a spinnaker ripping on the last leg of a winning race, by 10 PM we could hear them screaming gaily over at least two bottles of rum.  I was not sure if they would make it through the night.  It seemed becoming, however, in some odd sense of the way.  If there ever was someone who deserved to drink rum, a fisherman would seem to fit the cue.   They awoke us again around midnight with screams of another boat coming to moor.  I checked my anchor light, and could see them bustling around thier deck in an attempt to light there’s.  I could not locate the boat they were speaking of, and so drifted back off to sleep.  A check the next morning showed no boat, and I chalked their sighting up as a phantom apparition of drunken debauchery.  I wish I could have seen it, though… 
           

May 15, 2006

Wildlife Gone CRAZZY!; laceName w:st="on">JoneslaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType> off of laceName w:st="on">OrcuslaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>

Position: 48’ 36.92’ North, 123’ 03.51’ West

Captain: Barbara J. Austin

Time on Water: 4 hours, 6 minutes

            Bats

            Deer

            Mink / ferrets

            Dolphins

            Eagles

            Forest was all torn down from torn, regrouth forest

        

May 14, 2006

SOS; laceName w:st="on">FridaylaceName> laceType w:st="on">Harbor & San JuanlaceType> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>

Position: 48’ 32.60’ North, 123’ 00.27’ West

Captain: Arieyeh J. Austin (although I will never admit it)

Time on Water: 5 hours, 40 minutes

            The next day the winds were out of the North / North West.  There was 4 knots of current in the Straight of San Juan.  We arose a bit late, having to recover from the Yellow Tail wine from the previous night. After bidding farewell to Todd and Tara, we shoved off and headed east toward laceName w:st="on">FishermanlaceName> laceType w:st="on">BaylaceType> and laceName w:st="on">LopezlaceName> laceType w:st="on">VillagelaceType> on laceName w:st="on">LopezlaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>.  Unfortunately, we never made it there.  Half way around the north end of laceName w:st="on">DecaturlaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>, near laceName w:st="on">ThatcherlaceName> laceType w:st="on">PasslaceType>, the engine mysteriously stopped on us.  I attempted to restart her, but could get no power from either battery.  The radio was dead, as was all of the electronics.  Somehow we had managed to drain two 12 volt batteries completely dry in 48 hours while running almost no power?  I worked on them a bit, checking cables and such, but came up with an expectant unknown as to why we were dead in the water.  Barb and I decided to head to laceName w:st="on">FridaylaceName> laceType w:st="on">HarborlaceType>.  We knew there was a marina there, as well as mechanics and electricians.  We could do the laundry and take showers and recoup after three days away from civilization.  We went as far as we could go under sail and then called for Harbor Assist.  They gladly towed us into the marina, and made what could have been a very painful experience rather pleasant.  Our Boat US insurance paid for the majority of the tow, and so we were not so bad off.  All in all, it was actually a pleasant day with a good blow on the nose for several hours of sailing prior to our embarrassing, “SOS.”  Once into Friday harbor I coordinated for an electrician to come and look at our batteries and alternator the next morning, and then we headed up to the town for dinner.  I can tell you that laceName w:st="on">FridaylaceName> laceType w:st="on">HarborlaceType> is all that the tourist books tell you it is.  There was a movie theater, whale watching tours and a whale museum, parks, and very friendly people.  If you have to be marooned in the Islands, laceName w:st="on">FridaylaceName> laceType w:st="on">HarborlaceType> is the place to be.  I was able to get the engine started with shore power AC connected, and made sure the battery charger was working.  This means the culprit was at least the batteries; with a good chance the alternator was bad as well…  We tucked ourselves in that evening and watched, “All Dogs Go to Heaven” with Sophia that night, and hoped for the best the next day…
         

May 13, 2006

The Crossing, Straight of laceName w:st="on">San JuanlaceName> laceName w:st="on">Fuca & JameslaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>, on laceName w:st="on">DecaturlaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>.

Position: 48’ 31.17’ North, 122’ 46.51’ West

Captain: Arieyeh J. Austin

Time on Water: 10 hours, 10 minutes

            The Straights of San Juan Fuca are renowned for their violent waters and ability to change in a short period of time, leaving mariners at the mercy of the wind and waves.  Barb and I had been very careful in planning our crossing.  We had waited in the laceName w:st="on">KilisutlaceName> laceType w:st="on">HarborlaceType>, laceName w:st="on">MysterylaceName> laceType w:st="on">BaylaceType> and Port Townsend Marina for close to four days hoping for good weather.  Today had to be the day.  If we left early in the morning, the current should have pushed us out of the Kilisut Harbor towards the Straight of San Juan Fuca and point Wilson, and then, if we timed it just right, we could ride the out current straight to James Island on the East side of the San Juan Islands.  The marine forecast was predicting light and variable winds out of the West at 5-15 knots with 1-2 foot wind waves.  It was also supposed to be clear skies in the mid 60’s.  Along with Nesaru’s four knots, we planned on adding another 1 from the tides and current and two-three from the winds on a broad reach.  A course of almost 311 degrees would bring us home, with an estimated travel time of six hours.  That was the plan, at least.

            As we rounded out of laceName w:st="on">MarrowstonelaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType> and Walan Point, we were greeted again by laceName w:st="on">BabylaceName> laceName w:st="on">SeallaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>.  The beach was lined with hundreds of seals, basking in the morning sunlight.  Their bright reflective bodies draped out over the beach was nostalgic to us, reminding us of why we were on this trip to begin with.  Not many places can bring you as close to nature as the Pacific North West can.  Once out of the channel, we were greeted by 15-20 knots out of the west – far more then we had hoped for.  As we raised and trimmed the sails, we decided to double reef the main, just in case.  If there was 15-20 knots here, the Straight was sure to have 20-30!  After a quick huddle as to what we should do, we decided to attempt the passage.  We had waited to long already, and the marine forecast was ALWAYS wrong.  If it was too rough, we could always turn back into Point Hudson and spend another day with Carral at the Sail Loft.  We prepped all of the man over board equipment and dawned life jackets, just in case.  I must say, if Carral had not shown us how to properly reef the main we would have been in a bit of trouble I think.  As it turned out, all ran smoothly.  We crossed out of laceName w:st="on">WilsonlaceName> laceName w:st="on">PointlaceName> and into the Straight passing by the light house and laceType w:st="on">FortlaceType> laceName w:st="on">WardenlaceName> laceType w:st="on">State ParklaceType>.  Once there, we were greeted by 4-5 foot seas and more wind then I cared for.  We loosened the main and staysail sheets, and buckled down for the run.

            Several other boats were headed out with us, and this reassured us a bit.  Luckily, as the day wore on, the winds and waves slowly began to subside.  As they did, we steadily released one, then both reef points and then hoisted the jib.  Soon we were at a full 8-9 knots, running with the tide and sailing a smooth broad reach, just as we had planned!  If the wind had held, we could have made the tip in fewer than four fours – but it didn’t, and as we reached the middle of the straight we were in less then a knot of wind.  Out planned six hour trip turned into 7, and then 8.  This did not bother us to much, however, as a pod of Pacific North West Dolphins joined us on three different occasions, bobbing up and down beside us from time to time.  We took turns looking for them, and passed the rest of the passage away prepping and firing both 12 pound replica cannons from the deck!  It was a good sail and a fun day.  The seals, dolphins, and cannons made for the perfect trip.  Both Barb and I were embarrassed at how worked up we had made ourselves over the entire thing.  The storm we were in at laceName w:st="on">PovertylaceName> laceType w:st="on">BaylaceType> was 10 times worse then here, even at the 20 knots.  It was such a good day that Sophia even spent most of the trip on the deck, watching for Dolphins.  By the evening we had pulled West of Decatur Head Point, into the bay on laceName w:st="on">JameslaceName> laceName w:st="on">IslandlaceName>.  There was a float in the center of the bay.  Docking was a bit of a challenge as the tide was working against us, so I assisted at the helm until we could reach the dock.  A family of harbor Seals greeted us as we docked, and the first thing I noticed as I stepped onto the hard was two great bald eagles swooping above us and the island.  It was surreal…  Sailed across the Straight with Dolphins, and greeted at the Islands by Eagles!  What more could we ask for?....  well, apparently Raccoons – en masse!

            On the dock we met two separate families.  The first, Earl, was the skipper of a large motor boat from the 1950’s.  She was in great shape, and you could tell from talking to him that he really loved her.  He told us to watch out for the Raccoons on the Island, as he had several on his boat the night before.  The plan this evening was to take a HUGE flashlight up to shore and see if we could “catch” them sneaking up on us.  The second family was Todd and Tara, mother and father of two boys and one girl.  They also had a dog named Ceana.  Sophia instantly fell in love with them; witch made the visit to laceName w:st="on">JameslaceName> laceName w:st="on">IslandlaceName> a dream for us.  As Sophia and the boys ran up and down the shore, Todd (who is in the Navy), Tara, Barb and I stayed next to the fire relating tales of our trips and adventures.  We discussed real estate, politics, as well as the islands.  It was dream like, particularly in comparison to the drear of Port Townsend.  The Two eagles were constantly over head, and a dozen harbor seals stayed in the harbor next to the boats until sun down.  One pup was so bold as to conduct some high maneuver turns right next to the dock where Barb and Sophia were standing.  It became painfully apparent to Barb and I after short while that we were woefully unprepared for the hard “life.” As we had very little to grill.  Tara and Todd offered us some grilled link cod that Todd had caught the day before, and so we shared a bottle of Yellow Tail Shiraz from Australia with them.  Frankly, it was an uneven trade, particularly as they cooked us breakfast the next morning as well and gave us Starbucks coffee to top it off.  They were very friendly, and Bard and I wished we could have spent more time with them. 

            Just as Earl had promised, that evening while telling stories around the fire we could see dozens of little green eyes all around us, reflecting from the fire light.  Earl whipped out a trillion volt death ray of light and flooded the area, revealing at least 10 very hungry and bold raccoons all around us.  Some came right up to one end of the picnic table while you we were sitting on the other end!  We beat a retreat to our boats, and brought all of the garbage below deck just to be sure.  Throughout the night we could hear the pitter patter of little feet all over our decks, and more then once a great cream was heard from Earls boat as one of his daughters chased the litter critters all of the way down the float to the hard.  It was a surreal experience, looking out the port window and starring into the face of a coon, who was hungrily looking back at you!  What a night.
          

May 12, 2006

A Long Lost Friend, laceName w:st="on">MysterylaceName> laceType w:st="on">BaylaceType>.

Position: 48’03.38 N, 122’ 41.83’W

Captain: Arieyeh J. Austin

Time on Water: 4 hours

            Based on the weather reports off of the VHF, and a growing impatience with the people and friendlessness of those in the Port Townsend area, as well as its general location to the down town area, we decided to depart the marina for a more rustic location.  After perusing the charts for some time, Barb and I decided that the best place we could find which we felt would be away from people and the clatter of urban sprawl would be in a place called laceName w:st="on">MysterylaceName> laceType w:st="on">BaylaceType>.  It was a small and rather difficult little location to reach, located approximately 7-10 nautical miles West of Port Townsend across laceType w:st="on">PortlaceType> laceName w:st="on">TownsendlaceName> laceType w:st="on">BaylaceType> on laceName w:st="on">ArrowlaceName> laceName w:st="on">StonelaceName> laceName w:st="on">IndianlaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>, on the East Side of Illisut Harbor.  We were not sure what the “mystery” was, but were bound and determined to find out.  The trip across Port Townsend Bat was fairly simple enough.  The winds were still mincingly out of the North / North West, a constant reminder to our current plight on crossing the Straights of San Juan Fuca and the Partridge Bank.  At a broad reach with all three sails set we reached the opening of laceName w:st="on">IllisutlaceName> laceType w:st="on">HarborlaceType> in less then 30 minutes.  The real fun was just beginning…  The harbor to the bay was like running a snake like go cart race, with the depth meter constantly buzzing to remind that we were at low tide.  On several different occasions I was sure we were going to run aground.  We were relived from time to time by seeing Harbor Seals scattered throughout the area.  They couldn’t do anything about the depth, but were a great help in taking our minds off of it.  We did notice that there seemed to be many more here then in other areas.  Once we were out of the entrance and actually into laceName w:st="on">IllisutlaceName> laceType w:st="on">HarborlaceType> the depth gradually increased again.  The only real tricky point which I should note here was that between the last two green buoys there is a small shoal, which if you try to cut straight across, you’re sure to strike.  We recommend staying in the channel and following all of the buoys, no mater how “wiggly” it may seem to be.

            Entering laceName w:st="on">MysterylaceName> laceType w:st="on">BaylaceType> was like entering an entirely different world.  I truly can not tell you how pleased we were, or relate to you all of the stories and friends we made while we were there.  Needless to say, however, it was the highlight of our trip so far and more then made up for the endless waiting and expenditures of Port Townsend.  The first thing we noticed as we entered the bay, other then its completely quant and natural feel, was a 70 foot schooner anchored in its center.  The ship was in bad shape, and looked like it needed a complete overhaul.  I insulted it under my breath, but regretted doing so later.  As it turns out, the boat was built in 1805 in Grand Rapids Michigan.  Her name was “Merlin”.  She had been used as a work vessel of some kind until she was purchased for personnel use around 1875.  She was then sailed up the Saint Lawrence Sea Way, down the east coast of the United States, and then down the islands of the Bahamas and Caribbean until reaching South America.  She then past around the Horn from East to West and traveled back North until reaching Alaska.  While there, she was struck by a Blue Whale and sunk!  The owner paid to raise her, where she was brought back to Port Townsend for repairs.  When the money ran out, so did the repairs.  She was sailed from Port Townsend to laceName w:st="on">IllisutlaceName> laceType w:st="on">HarborlaceType> where she has been privately owned and sailed since.  While I would like to say that this was the best story of the bay, nothing could have prepared us for what we found next…

            As we rounded the Schooner, Nesaru began to vibrate slightly.  Now, if you had not sailed her extensively yourself, you may not have even felt it.  It was almost as if it were a simply “humm” of some kind.  I can honestly say it was not a bad feeling.  I was sure it was not an engine problem.  Rather, I got the distinct impression that my little baby was trying to say something to me.  We continued forward until Barb plainly stated, “Oh my God.”  Directly in front of us, no more then 300 meters away, was a boat which looked strikingly like our own.  She was covered from top to bottom with canvas, and so was rather difficult to make out her exact lines.  It was enough to strike all of our interests, however, and so we headed in that direction.  I could feel Nesaru swelling with anticipation as we past the last two moored boats between our selves and our prey.  I took one long sweep by her just to be safe.  She was clearly a gaffer, and had a sprit of about 6-8 feet and her bomb hung past her transom by 2 feet at least.  Although I could not be sure with out looking under the canvas, her lines were almost exactly like our own.  I brought her in close from the stern of the moored boat to take a better look.  In utter shock and amazement, both Barb, Nesaru, and Myself exploded with screeches of laughter and joy upon seeing here cockpit… it was a Friendship Sloop, exactly like our own.  Nesaru putted along, the ripples of water off of her bow uttered unheard words of, “hello, where have you been?” to her long lost friend.  As I stared, mouth a gap, at this little beauty, I felt my heart and soul burst with the same emotion I had encountered the first time I had ever seen a Friendship Sloop.  She was simply elegant.  She was beautiful.  We decided to move the boat to the float in order to allow Sophia to run.  She (Sophia) had become increasingly energetic since the trip had begun, and was becoming quite a hand full.  Nesaru, despite her beautiful lines and grace under sail, was not designed for four people to live below, but rather to hold the lobsters caught off of the East coast.  Being connected to the hard was beneficial, and paid huge dividends for Barb and I once Sophia was off and running.

            Once we were tied up, we had three separate encounters, all of which must be retold so that a true appreciation of the bay can be achieved.  The first was with the group of Kayakers who were preparing their boats for a week trip on the shore adjacent to the float.  As I walked up to investigate the facilities, we noticed huge amounts of Oysters under the float.  There must have been thousands of them.  I had never seen so many oysters in one spot.  Upon making some inquires as to how to eat them, how to “shuck” them, and obtaining permission from the float manager, I dove in and brought up 10-15 of the shells and with eager earnest began to shuck them.  Once they were out, I cleaned them in fresh water, padded them down, and Barb planned on adding them to our dinner meal after rolling them in flower and baking them.  The overall end result was delightful.  I am hoping (and planning) on repeating the process again on the trip.

            The second story involved a gentleman named Steve who had built a Nordic looking vessel, and had it tied to the hard as well.  I was not able to meet him until later that night.  His boat created a bit of a local attraction, and there was more then enough stories to go around as to its design, etc.  I must say, especially after meeting him, that I was equally fascinated with both his originality, eccentric independence, and his general state of competence.  He was unique, and I hope to read about his journeys or bump into him again.  His boat, the “Galawhiel” had been named from a dream he had.  It appeared to him in it, and so was destined to become the name of the vessel which had already been to Alaska twice, and was about to depart for a third time.  Ironically, the name has no real definition in the Norwegian languages.  The mast of the boat was made from an old light post which had been purchased and shipped, and then installed by the Port Townsend Rigging Company (Good job Lisa and Dan) for under $1,000.00!  Its composition was the same as those of other boats now (zinc, aluminum, etc..) to make it safe and steady, apparently.  As to the lines of the boat… well, it was a self enclosed entirely sturdy, “Viking” boat.  It had an eagle head on its bow, which had been carved by his brother, and had the running lights installed as the creatures eyes.  Two wind vanes and solar panels kept his battery packs charged, and collapsible water cans gave him enough liquid to complete his trips.  The cockpit of the boat was inside, which could be reached after activating four hydraulic pumps which would lift the top of the cabin up.  Here was located his rowing chairs and oars, which he literally used to “row” to his destinations.  There was no boom (nor were there on the old Norwegian vessels of antiquity).  He could hoist one huge Genoa, which stretched from the bow to the stern and supplied him with forward (and sometimes sideways) momentum when appropriate.  It was a beautiful boat.  We wish him the best of luck on his endeavors, and will look for him again in the future.

            The third and last story I will relate for this little laceType w:st="on">baylaceType> of laceName w:st="on">MysterylaceName> brings us full circle back to our little lost friend in the bay, the other friendship sloop.  After diving for oysters, Barb was preparing a meal of T-Bone Steak, Oysters, Baked Potato’s, and Francis Ford Coppala wine (a personnel favorite from Chicago which was introduced to me from an old friend named Scott McClellan, a fellow officer in the military at the time).  I decided to take Sophia and myself over to the Friendship in the dink so that I could leave some contact information for them.  The name of the boat was “Selkie.” She was a 25 foot Friendship sloop (36 with gaff) just like ours.  Once I returned to the hard, I was greeted by two lovely individuals, Brad and Suzi Clinefelter (503-880-1385 & 503-636-5269).  I could only describe the following story of theirs as, “ironic.”  As it turns out, when Barb and I moved here we looked for other friendship sloops on the West coast which we could contact in order to find out how to rig her, sail her appropriately, etc.  There were several that we were able to locate on the Friendship Sloop Society Web page (link provided on this sight) as well as their annual year book once we became members.  Of all those we could find, the closest was in Port Townsend!  There were only three others located on the West Coast, and no other ones in the Puget Sound or Pacific North West.  Unfortunately, the year book we had showed that the Friendship Sloop which was kept in Port Townsend had “disappeared” two years ago.  Barb and I looked for her when we were in the Marina, but could not find her.  When we talked to Carral Hasse of Port Townsend Sails and Lisa and Dan from Port Townsend Rigging, they all mentioned that they remembered another Friendship sloop located in the area, but had not seen her in some time.  This seemed to correlate to the information we had gained from the FSS yearbook.  Disheartened, we moved the boat to laceName w:st="on">MysterylaceName> laceType w:st="on">BaylaceType>, having given up the Search.  Unbeknownst to us, Brad and Suzi received a call from a friend that very same day asking if they were out sailing.  They replied no, a bit surprised.  They were really shocked when their friend told them that he was watching another friendship sloop sail into Port Townsend!  They immediately left their home and headed over to the marina to see if they could find this boat.  After inquiring at the harbor Masters office and getting our boat slip, they arrived one hour after we had departed.  Saddened, they too returned to their home.  Once they arrived there, another friend of theirs called them to let them know that he could see someone crawling on their boat.  It was, as I mentioned before, me leaving my number and address.  They of course did not know that, and so rushed down to the Bay to run right into our little Nesaru tied at the dock!  After an initial greeting, jubilation and exulted joy followed as the two skippers began to relate story after story.  It appears that we both had heard of each others boats, and had tried from time to time to locate one another.  I do truly believe that G-d does watch out over mariners and all other life here on or little globe.  It is too coincidental to me that on our last trip in the Sound, after two years of searching,  that the only two Friendship Sloops in the entire Puget Sound should happen to moor in the same little off the path bay, for one miraculous evening.  I also truly believe that boats have souls, which can relate to their skippers the past histories and adventures, as well as to let you know (if you pay close enough attention) as to when they are happy or sad.  I can tell you now that both little boats were ecstatic at being side by side. 

            Brad and Suzi brought Selkie over to the hard so that we could have a closer look.  I greeted them upon their approach with the firing of one of our two “12 pounder” replicas off of their bow.  I must say, their boat was in excellent condition and wonderfully maintained.  She had been featured in a book called “Down below Yacht Interiors”.  Her cabin was all teak, and Brad had done a lot of personnel modifications to make her more comfortable.  She truly did shine.  We were particularly interested in her Bronze window mounts and her cowl vent openings, which provide much more air below decks then our own.  Her sails were of red cloth.  Suzi made recommendations as to alternative people we could purchase our new sails from to save money.  They highly recommended North West Sails (Shawn Rankin) and North West Canvas (Ingre Rankin).  Barb and I have decided to stay with Carrol Hasse, however.  It is a lot more, but she was so kind to us on our visit that I almost feel as if I would be betraying her if I did not complete our transaction.  Additionally, there is no arguing the quality of the sails she can produce.  Suzi also recommended a good book on the subject, “Sail Makers Apprentice.”  At the end of the night we exchanged information and bid each other fair well.  It was a reunion long in the making, and one which was well worth the wait.  They were the kindest people you can imagine, and made the stay in laceName w:st="on">MysterylaceName> laceType w:st="on">BaylaceType> complete.  The next morning, with the tides in our favor and winds from the west, we slipped out of the bay and gazed contently one last time over our shoulder at Selkie.  I know she is in far better hands then my own.  Fair winds, my friends… fair winds.
          

May 9-11, 2006

Jackyard Topmast Rigging and Sails; Port Townsend, WA.

Position: 48’06.64’ N, 122’ 45.39’ W

Captain: Barbara J. Austin

Time on Water: 6 hours

            We woke up to yet another beautiful, crisp morning in the Puget Sound only to be slapped in the face with more NW wind. Fortunately for us, Port Townsend was only 12 nautical miles away. So we started heading northwest on a close reach under full sail. Although, at the halfway mark we did have to drop sails before entering the laceType w:st="on">PortlaceType> laceName w:st="on">TownsendlaceName> laceType w:st="on">CanallaceType>. This is a very narrow canal to maneuver in, and the current can be strong through here. Take caution if passing through at low tide (and during high tide as well due to the bridge that lies above the canal). We also passed the quaint little marina of Port Hadlock once we cleared the canal. By this time Port Townsend was in our sights, so Arie and I decided to raise the sails once more and play for awhile. Around 1600 we decided to call it a day and head into the marina for a slip assignment. Just before entering the Port Townsend Boathaven we witnessed our first porpoise breeching the waterline. These are beautiful mammals with their black and white markings similar to that of an orca. Atlantic dolphins don’t even compare.

            Port Townsend is a beautiful town with a Victorian theme that graces the downtown area itself. Port Townsend is also the gathering place for wooden boats of all types, and also houses the Wooden Boat Foundation at the Cupola House on Point Hudson. Now, let me be blunt…with beauty and history aside, Port Townsend was our “money pit.” However, when you have Port Townsend Rigging and Port Townsend Sails working for you, all you can do is submit to the experts at hand. Actually, the whole point of our trip to Port Townsend was to meet with Carol Hasse of Port Townsend Sails, and Dan and Lisa from Port Townsend Rigging for the purpose of creating a jackyard topmast, and having new sails made for Nesaru.

            Carol and Dan came down to the boat first thing Wed. morning to take measurements for our upcoming projects. Now remember, before they arrived Arie and I thought we had well adjusted, working knowledge of Nesaru’s rigging and sails. Turns out we did not. I will sum up all statements into two words: Learning Experience! In those few hours that Carol and Dan spent with us, we learned more about our rigging and sails than we had for the whole year we’ve owned Nesaru. We feel privileged to have such experts as these helping us maintain the classic, antique look of Nesaru. I have no doubt that she will be stunning once adorned with new sails and a jackyard topmast.

            Out of all these qualities there is one thing about Port Townsend that leaves a bad taste in your mouth, the sense that there is competition all around you. You can feel it in the air, and you can sense it with a simple glimpse from a fellow sailor. Arie can even atest to it from the urinal conversations that went on in the men’s room. Norwegian vs American, Who is the better sailor? Now, if that isn’t bathroom reading material, then I don’t know what is. What can you expect from a place that houses so many beautiful boats (and ships even), and attracts mariners from all parts of the world.  The best part is to focus on the people that you meet, and listen to the advice that they give. Of course we found that everyone wants to give their advice, but that’s not the point…I’m getting off track. One such person we met was the world’s #1 ranked windsurfer who gave us advice on how to trim our mainsheet to maximize the use of the sail. Well, it worked, and we were even able to come to weather that much more due to the adjustments we made!

            There is one last thing I want to say before I end my log for these few days, don’t rely to heavily on the VHF marine weather channel. They could not predict the weather correctly if my life depended on it. I would rather get up in the morning and walk out to Point Hudson to physically see what I’m up against, rather than turning on the weather channel and listening to the current reports. Let’s see what the morning will bring us.

May 8, 2006

Stormy Weather; Port Ludlow

Position: 47’55.27’ N, 122’ 40.65’ W

Captain: Barbara J. Austin

Time on Water: 7 hours

            When we woke up this morning the sky was clear and the winds were lighter, the only thing we waited on was the tide. High tide was due to peak around 0900, meaning the boat needed to be ready to head out shortly after. Our actual goal was to make Port Townsend that evening, giving us a few days preparation to cross the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

            The wine connoisseur we met the day before greeted us bright and early this morning. He wanted to see Nesaru before we left. He was also impressed to see two sloops, both based out of Maine, docked next to one another. He seemed particularly interested in our neighbor’s boat because he has a friend from Bath, Maine who would be interested in meeting the sloop’s owners. Yet, once again, Arie became engaged in conversation with his newly found wine expert only to be interrupted by a harbor seal who literally “butted in” the conversation by surfacing next to the dock where the two men were standing. It only lasted a few short seconds, but the look on Arie’s face was priceless.  It was white with black spots, and Arie swore at first that it was a swimming Dalmatian!

            After a quick trip to the harbormaster’s office to check out, we shoved off and said goodbye to this buccaneer place that we came to know as Eagle harbor. Once again we entered the Southern portion of Admiralty Inlet only to be greeted by laceName w:st="on">ElliotlaceName> laceName w:st="on">BaylaceName> and the beautiful Seattle skyline straight across from us. The wind was still in our favor coming from the Southwest at around 10 knots. As we pushed North through the inlet in route to Port Townsend we encountered quite a military spectacle. Sitting between Edmonds and Kingston we passed a military entourage of naval destroyers and US Coast Guard ships towing a nuclear submarine into port, most likely Bremerton Naval Base. It was quite a sight, and yes, we did take pictures to capture the moment. Not something you see everyday. The journey continued north as we ran with the wind, that is, until we hit the infamous Point no Point about 6 nautical miles north of Kingston. We were approaching another storm front to our west and the winds dramatically switched from SW to NW blowing around 15-20 knots. Realizing that we were going to have to “beat to weather” for the remainder of our trip, we decided to make a closer stop than Port Townsend. We decided on Port Ludlow based on our current location. Ironically we had to fight to get past Point no Point, and Foulweather Bluff before reaching Port Ludlow.  For the next three to four hours we fought the wind and waves… no wonder why they call it Foulweather Bluff… Fortunately the storm front blew west of us before reaching the quiet bay that housed Port Ludlow. As we entered the bay we were blown away by the view…the Olympic mountain range in the background with bald eagles flying high in the sky at sunset. There was also a large totem pole sitting above the shoreline just before you entered the marina. The marina was very beautiful, quiet, and clean. You almost felt secluded here.

            After finishing up with dinner and dishes, we decided to walk up to the restrooms and had a look around. Just as we rounded the corner of the dock to head up the ramp we spotted two animals lounging on the Kayak raft. As we started to get a closer look I soon realized we were sneaking up on two otters. One of my favorite animals! Obviously it did not take them long to scatter, except that they did stick around. Instead of swimming away they stayed underneath the rafts sniffing at us and following us as we walked around to get a closer look at them. The best part is yet to come…I was sneaking around the kayak float and peeking around each rack of kayaks hoping to get a glimpse of otter. I finally reached the end of the float and slowly peeked around the last rack only to be caught of guard by an otter climbing up a ladder onto the float. The otter froze and I screamed, more out of delight than anything. The look on the otter’s face was priceless, like he/she was just caught in the act. I would have given anything to have a camera on me at that moment. It was something I wished the whole family had witnessed. I wonder what the otter was thinking… 

            

May 7, 2006

Recoup; laceName w:st="on">EaglelaceName> laceType w:st="on">HarborlaceType> on laceName w:st="on">BainbridgelaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType>

Position: 47’36.71’ North, 122’ 29.54’ West

Captain: Barbara J. Austin

Time on Water: None

            After our long haul the previous day, we decided to stay over a day in laceName w:st="on">EaglelaceName> laceType w:st="on">HarborlaceType> and explore what the nearby town had to offer. All in all this turned out to be a good decision considering a rainstorm came in this afternoon and offered up 20 to 25 knots of wind on the inlet.

            Earlier in the morning we met our neighbors who were the proud owners of a wooden, gaff-rigged sloop out of Bath, Maine. We thought this was a fortunate coincidence considering our friendship sloop is based out of Maine as well. Our only regret is that we did not ask for the names of these charming couple, as well as the name to their beautiful sloop. Very unfortunate.

            Once everyone was fed, dressed, and the boat was put away down below, we were ready to head into town. First and foremost we made our usual stop at the Pegasus coffee house for a morning “pick me up.” As Arie mentioned earlier, this is a great stop for a good cup of coffee and evening entertainment. We then spent the next couple of hours browsing shops as we walked through town.

The town of Winslow is complete with café’s, boutiques, and art galleries, yet more upscale than your usual harbor town. We made a quick stop to a wine-tasting room where Arie became engaged in an hour long conversation with a wine connoisseur. What we did learn is that all those fancy wine tasting techniques you see in the movies should be left…well on the big screen. If you open a bottle of wine and the scent appeals to you and the taste grabs you, then by all means, sit back and enjoy a glass…. Which is what Arie and I did that evening after dinner.

From “A Cruising Guide” by Migael Scherer, “laceName w:st="on">EaglelaceName> laceType w:st="on">HarborlaceType> corkscrews its way into the east laceType w:st="on">shorelaceType> of laceName w:st="on">BainbridgelaceName> Island.  Inside the town of Winslow, named after one of the owners of a large shipyard that operated here until the 1950’s.  The creosote plant that once stood at the entrance of made Eagle Harbor one of the most populated in the Puget Sound…. The island was once known for its berry farms, but now laceName w:st="on">BainbridgelaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType> is primarily a bedroom community…”

           

May 6, 2006

A Bitter Sweet Beginning; Olympia, WA

Position: 47’05.83’ North, 122’ 55.53’ West

Captain: Arieyeh J. Austin

Time on Water: 9 hours, 12 minutes

            All good things must come to an end, or at least that is the way the stories go.  Barb and I had received orders to report to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, upon the completion of my current duties as Aide De Camp to the Deputy Commanding General of I Corps and Fort Lewis, WA, MG John W. Morgan III.  I say, “we received orders,” because as any family who has been privileged to serve our great nation and its populace knows full well, our families are as much servants to our occupation as we are.  There is no escape from the inevitable pull of the “great green mean machine.” We were to report no later then the end of July.  We hastily made plans to conduct one last great jump into the void of adventure with our faithful little vessel, Nesaru.  While it may be mandated that our service would be required elsewhere, we could not dismiss the lure of the magnetic pull that the Pacific North West held over us.  How could we bring a Friendship Sloop so far, having carried her from Boston, MA, to Olympia, WA, and never even have left the Puget Sound?  It was too heart sickening to even consider – a tragedy of Shakespearian proportions which simply could not occur.

            While Barb and I hovered over the charts, painfully reviewing countless articles in such magazines as “Practical Sailor,” “Wooden Boat,” and “Sail” as well as purchasing videos from West Marine in order to prepare us for a trip to the illustrious San Juan Islands, located north of the Puget Sound just on the other side of the Straits of San Juan Fuca, our oldest Daughter, Sophia, had a different glean in her eye.   Oh no, it seemed that it was not enough simply to cruise in one of the worlds top five rated sailing locations as a family for her.  On the contrary, while I was plotting courses I failed to notice that our youngest was practicing her fencing techniques in the basement.  How could I possible not notice the scream of, “Surrender you British Dog!” screeched by the lungs of a 2 ½ year old over the tedious review of chart #1?  You would have thought that Barb would have at least stopped momentarily from the complimentary West Marine video of the San Juans Islands (happily given after our quadrillionth visit and purchase in that Armageddon of bankruptcy) when Sophia was rolling our miniature cannon’s, along with enough shot to sink all of her majesties ships to the bottom of Davy Jones Locker, out of the front door.  Unfortunately, neither of us did notice these quintessential necessities for a toddler.  Hence, it came to quite a surprise, I assure you, when upon the day of our departure, we found her suitcase full of swords, daggers, eye patches, shot, and other such paraphernalia.  When Barb inquired into her motives, she simply stated, (this part is translated by her rather adventures and high expectant father) “I plan on taking my crew of scallywags into uncharted and enemy waters, were by we shall endeavor to bombard the English Fort and its Garrison on Orcas Island, while flying my mommy’s underwear as a Jolly Roger, settling at last the question as to who truly won the Great Pig War!”

            And so it began.  It was a bitter sweet feeling as we rolled into Swantown Marina for the last time in Olympia, WA, on the far South Side of the Puget Sound.  A close friend, Lenny, as well as his girlfriend Beth, was waiting for us in the Marina upon our arrival.  Chris Baker, our carpenter and perhaps the closest and most sincere friend any person could ask for, was also present.  This unlikely gathering of people had consolidated not just to say good by and good luck, but to observe the inaugural test fire of our two 12” cannons, which had been specifically created for Nesaru for our new Captain, Sophia, and her plan to decimate the English dogs in the now contested San Juans of the 1800’s.  The cannons were hastily prepared on the lawn of the marina as I completed the last loading of Nesaru, who was patiently waiting our departure at High Tide.  Lenny made a short and appropriate speech, being the main creative force behind the creation of the two weapons, and then lighted both.  The resulting explosion of 12 gauge blank shot, cheese cloth, and potato flower was enough to shock every bird with in miles to “drop load” and flee in an undetermined direction.  While this sent all of us into a state of hysteria, the proprietors of the marina were less then thrilled.  Let me just say that while 12 gauge blank may seem insignificant to a soldier, civilians seem to have a much smaller appreciation for loud noises (or for seagull droppings).  We were given a well deserved pummeling.  We then loaded the cannon’s onto Nesaru, and then bid our home birth farewell.  As we past out of the last peer into laceName w:st="on">BudlaceName> laceName w:st="on">InletlaceName>, Chris Baker waived good by to us one last time.  I will truly miss his friendship and advice.  He has always been a good cohort of ours.  

            We had deliberately planned our departure time to coincide with High Tide, having learned our lessons about tides on the ocean from our last trip near Poverty Bay North of Tacoma.  High Tide was at 12:31 PM at 7.2 feet, with the next low tide being at 6:53 PM at 2.5 feet with the moon being in the first quarter.  The winds were 5-10 knots from the South / South West.  Additionally, the barometer was reading 1020 and dropping (not good) However, with the wind and current/tide on our side with a 11:00 am departure, we were more then confident that we could reach Seattle by nightfall.  I knew as soon as we tacked north into Dana’s Passage near laceName w:st="on">BostonlaceName> laceType w:st="on">HarborlaceType> onto a broad reach that I was correct.  The wind and waves, along with our 13 HP Westerbeak engine that Jason had just overhauled from Shirtz Marine, pushed us along at an incredible pace.  We were not only able to reach Seattle, but pushed even further to laceName w:st="on">EaglelaceName> laceType w:st="on">HarborlaceType> on laceName w:st="on">BainbridgelaceName> laceType w:st="on">IslandlaceType> by 8 PM, averaging at just over 8.5 knots an hour!  Not bad for our little baby, particularly with as low as she was in the water line carrying three weeks of provisions (not to mention Sophia’s war and landing party essentials).  We completed our first days leg with a warm cup of “Joe” from the Pegasus Coffee House, located just up the hill from the marina… highly recommended.  As the sun set, I felt rather content at what we were attempting to undertake.  It may be a short while before we have to move, but just as in life, we will endeavor to make the most out of it.