Day 1 – Thursday, June 27th
Whoohoo! We’re off!
We left the dock at Ko Olina Marina (Barber’s Point) on the west side of Oahu
at 0900 as planned. A freighter, named the “Overseas Anacortes”, escorted by
two tugs, followed us out. AIS (our computer run vehicle identification system)
told us they were bound for San Francisco, then maybe on to Anacortes? They
will soon be days ahead of us!
We motor sailed about 4 hours in light wind along the leeward side of Oahu – beautiful coastline – rugged, Kelly green and mostly undeveloped– we think it might be where they filmed Jurassic Park.
Good-bye Hawaiian Islands -- thanks for the rest stop.
As we neared the Northwest point of the island, the wind kicked up quickly to 25 knots – the trade winds whipping around the corner and creating lots of chop too. We double reefed the main and continued beating, taking a NW heading of about 340 and starting 4-hr watches. Louise had an active watch from noon to 4 and I put together simple lunch food.
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| Louise is getting her sea legs and hanging on in the galley. |
More squalls through the night kept our sails small and speed low, but Friday morning we are cruising along again at about 7 kts and making a NNE heading – straight for Seattle! Probably not for long – we have sent our position report to Commanders' Weather -- the professional weather routing service we have contracted to provide forecasts and recommendations. It will be interesting to see if they mail us back any changes in their proposed route. It seems funny to be taking a non-traditional route, after the months of studying the classic route – but it’s not a traditional year. This could save us many miles – we also may need to back track if they guessed wrong. But for now, we are headed in the right direction. The boat likes to beat and Sully handles the heading well. All in all, a good first day and night. Looks like we will put 120 nm on the odometer in our first 24 hours.
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| We had one great spinnaker day early in the passage. |
Another 24 hours to the NE
It’s now Friday, June 28, and Day 2. A smooth ride, beautiful sunny weather, and a star-studded night. If this were the ride all the way, I’d (maybe) sign on to do it again! Really no problems. Also, no fish. Mid-day yesterday, the tuna plug (last of our stock) got a big hit… ZZZIIIING… SNAP! At the same time, the second line that was out from the other side of the boat went slack with a broken line.
We think a big fish that stole the tuna plug also hooked the second lure in its struggle to escape as it came in all entangled in the first line. Oh, well. We still have a packed freezer and are just beginning to make a dent in the produce and pre-cooked casseroles.
It’s now Friday, June 28, and Day 2. A smooth ride, beautiful sunny weather, and a star-studded night. If this were the ride all the way, I’d (maybe) sign on to do it again! Really no problems. Also, no fish. Mid-day yesterday, the tuna plug (last of our stock) got a big hit… ZZZIIIING… SNAP! At the same time, the second line that was out from the other side of the boat went slack with a broken line.
We think a big fish that stole the tuna plug also hooked the second lure in its struggle to escape as it came in all entangled in the first line. Oh, well. We still have a packed freezer and are just beginning to make a dent in the produce and pre-cooked casseroles.
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| Teaming up to furl the jib |
Everyone took a turn for a shower today in the cockpit – the water is only slightly warm, as we have not run the engine since leaving the marina – but the sun is warm and the cool water feels good. Louise is trying to keep on plenty of sunscreen, but is still getting some ruby red shoulders – it’s such an intense sun here close to the equator.
There are more sea birds so far
than on the Eastern side of Hawaii. They appear in groups of 2, 4 or more. We
don’t know the species, but they look especially aerodynamic – super sleek,
with thin knife blade shaped wings, fuselage bodies and pointed tails – maybe
terns? They swoop and circle at high speed, swiftly gliding on the wind
currents and rarely flapping their wings, coming down within inches of the
water surface. We have yet to see one land, dive, or get a meal out here. We
found one small flying fish on the deck so maybe they are scooping up their
snacks faster than the eye can see.
We have not had squalls in the last
24-hours. We are emailing our position to the weather folks – they
overestimated our speed, so while we are headed in the direction they
suggested, we are not as far along the route as they estimated. We need to make
some more easterly miles if we are to be close to their routing. So really, the
unknown of the pressure systems and the anxiety that comes with doing a
non-traditional route are our only concerns. We think we are doing the right
thing – it’s a risk – the payoff could be big in timesavings. The stakes are
high if we are forcing ourselves into either a High-pressure system with no
wind, or a Low that brings stormy headwinds with it. We shall see. .. AND the epic
journey CONTINUES…
It is now Wednesday, July 10, our 13th day of
the crossing. While we took a hiatus from
daily blog entries, there has been no break in the daily and nightly bounce of
the ocean, and the rolling along of miles – not always in the most effective
direction, but miles under the keel nevertheless. While our daily routines have
become familiar – each of us in our own rhythm of sailing, sleeping, eating
according to our watch schedule – the days are also comprised of diversity that
is handed to us by nature or is of our own making. We’ll write about a few of
the highlights. Louise contributed these following three entries!
The doldrums and the water is fine!
Today is day 13 of our crossing.
For the most part we have had plenty of wind…though not always precisely in the
desired direction…..as you will see if you track our route via the Delorme
website.Two of the days we experienced what they call the doldrums (that is: NO WIND). We motored a long while; but then it was high time to save our fuel for events, possible and supposed, later in our journey. The motor time is valuable in many ways. The water maker works when the motor is on and we have warm fresh water! But we need to conserve fuel, so we killed the motor, lowered the sails and drifted pretty much in the direction we wanted to go. The boat lay quietly in the water. These were fine days for doing laundry, swimming and showering. Now, there is some anxiety amongst the family about any swimming at sea. I will set the scene for you and you will see that you, too, would have jumped in for a refreshing dip! First off the boat is practically dead in the water. Then we trail a line behind the boat. We take turns so that there is one person on board at all times.
And lastly, the sharks aren’t dumb….they are nowhere to be seen.
The only activity out here is our own, an occasional commercial vessel, our albatross and an abundance of flying fish, which are the color of the deep blue sea and about the size of a mountain trout…not exactly dangerous. The sharks are closer to shore, where the eatin’ is good. Okay, I will admit to looking down into the blue more than once, just to make sure, but there are definitely no sharks out here! I was in the water and Lanham dropped a bolt for me to follow as it fell…..I could still see it as I came up for air about a minute later….the deep blue is gorgeous!!
Mostly, on the high seas, you tend to stay seated. When you don’t, quite often you bare
the bruises of not quite managing to move in precisely the direction you had
intended. You should see my elbows
and knees!
Lanham and I were in the cockpit when we noticed that the dinghy was hanging quite unevenly. Lanham jumped up and moved with ease (as he does every time he moves on the boat). He jumped up on the upper ledge of the transom and, leaning out over the rigging that dangles the dinghy, pulled up the slack in the lines on one side. The dinghy was once more in balance.
He glanced down into the water behind the boat and, ‘’there!’’: something green and moving, about a meter deep: fishing net! The net was most certainly caught on the propeller: not good news (Thank heavens we hadn’t started the motor …) But now…imagine this…Solar Wind is speeding along and this net must be dealt with. I grabbed the grab pole. Lanham got out on the transom. (yes, he was wearing his life vest…) I held on to him from inside the cockpit as he got down on all fours and hooked the fishing net. But it wouldn’t budge. What now… I suggested we walk the fishing net forward of the propeller, hoping that it would come free. We attached a line, after I had managed to tangle it every which way. Lanham walked the net up the side of the boat …and…there came the fishing net! (about 4 square meters of it) We would have a great story to tell Melinda, who was sleeping in her bunk. (BTW…. I, for one, cannot believe how much I sleep on board. Yes, the watches are tiring ….but, somehow I can’t even manage to read for very long….I lie down in my quarter berth…I think, ‘’I’ll NEVER get to sleep with all this noizzzzzzzzz….)
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| Not a great thing to catch with the propeller |
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| Some of the "junk" floating by us in the Pacific |
Bump, BUMPPPP….
What was that!?
Something big! Behind the
boat we see a full length log, 50 centimeters in diameter come a rollin’ up to
the surface. Wow! That might have
done some damage. Lanham and
Melinda are immediately opening up the floor of the boat checking for leaks;
but Solar Wind seems to have rolled with the punches and has maintained her
course beautifully. We guess that the bow of the boat must have hit the side of
the log and set it spinning, under the hull, where it hit and rolled down the
keel. We only heard 2 contact
sounds, so we are guessing that the propeller was spared.
There is a lot of trash out here in the northeastern Pacific! Melinda and Lanham say we are seeing more than they saw down the west coast or in all of the Mexican waters. Much of it seems fishing related and the currents cause it to collect in a huge patch or gyre near the center of the North Pacific High. They call it ‘’flotsam’’ and not all of it is benign! Just after the log encounter, we spotted a metal barrel bobbing up and down directly in our path. Lanham navigated around that rusty object that might have done dangerous things to the hull of the Solar Wind! What must the fish and birds think of all these strange objects in ‘’their’’ ocean.
The albatros that has accompanied us on this crossing thus far had a moment of confusion over a fishing lure that we had trailing from the boat yesterday. We heard a ‘’hit’’ on the fishing line. We looked aft, and there was the albatros, bobbing on the water’s surface pecking at our plastic lure. Luckily he didn’t bite at the hook and was able to fly away freely. We pulled in the line and saw that half of the lure was gone. Hope the bird didn’t swallow…haven’t seen him yet today!
The Red Slipper Rescue
The morning sun and breeze have been great for keeping socks and underwear rinsed and sun-dried. Doing laundry usually goes hand in hand with transom showers. Standing in the laundry bucket and letting the shower run-off fill the tub – one leads to the next. We agitate the clothes as if we were stomping grapes for wine. It was one of our bigger laundry days and with the boat in a no-go drift we had plenty of time for cleanliness. Following her shower, Louise had dressed for the day – it was the 4th of July so she sported her red and white striped T-shirt and her patent leather red flip-flops. We all three were clean and dressed when Louise headed up to the bow to check on the laundry that was drying on the lifelines.
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| Louise doing laundry on a slow day at sea. |
As Lanham dried and dressed we all started looking around for the glasses he had dramatically tossed aside before attempting the rescue. Nowhere to be found. Slowly it began to dawn on us that he might have thrown the glasses overboard, ugh -- not a good trade-off – a plastic sandal for prescription sunglasses! As we were about to accept this grim possibility, he found the glasses in good shape, down in the galley. His toss had sent them through the companionway into the cabin. Laundry done and no missing gear! Lanham guarantees he won’t be so heroic when the boat is underway.
Flying Fish Bait
Our lures were getting taken one at a time and our supply had dwindled. So the little flyer sacrificed his life for our bait, but was eaten in one swift bite by someone bigger who knew how to avoid the hook. We’ll keep trying – maybe we’ll have more luck when we hit salmon waters off the Washington Coast.
Whoops! Ugh!
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| Lanham under his pile of pillows during his down time in the pipe berth |
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| Lanham serving us all a celebratory "juice" |
Within a few long minutes he got his wind, and was able to get up --with at least one cracked rib and some aches that he treated with aspirin for the next few days. We’ve all heard the well-known rule about closing all hatch covers before doing work on the deck. It happens faster than you can imagine! Lanham thought he might need to lie around and give us orders for a few days, but the feeling wore off. We feel lucky and relieved.
Making Contact
Standing
watch on Solar Wind means you take your 4-hour turn to be in the cockpit, hand
steering or helping Sully steer the heading as close to our ideal course as the wind will allow. Often, with the wind direction shifting within about a
100-degree range this requires pretty active “watching” of the instruments and mast-head
indicator, some keen listening for the beginning sound of a luffing sail and
some quick wheel turning or button pushing to keep the sails full and maintain
optimum course. While small course adjustments are constantly made, the wind
speed is often changeable -- falling or peaking—and on watch you decide whether
it is a temporary decline, a momentary gust, or a strong and lasting change
that requires more sail to be put out (for speed) or some of the sail area
reduced (for control and safety). While most of our sail reefing can be done
from inside the cockpit, it is easier with two people and so being on watch
often means calling or waking someone to consult or give you a hand. 
Most often nighttime watches are quiet, solitary, peaceful, and contemplative. The stars have been dramatic. Not super bright but such a vast dusting – almost more pinpoints of light than darkness between. We saw our first thumbnail of a moon a couple nights ago and hope we have some more cloudless nights as it waxes and sends us some moonshine.
Of course, the main task of one on watch is scanning the horizon for other ships or large debris during the day, and at night, peering through the darkness for lights on the horizon and staring at the radar monitor when it comes on every 10 minutes. It is easy to get a little complacent about this “watching” when night after day after night after day… we see not a soul out here in the vast waters that stretch in every direction. And then quite SUDDENLY there can be a vessel… and the fun begins!
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| Japanese War Ship 181 appeared on the horizon two days off Hawaiian Islands, but was blocked on radar |
We have made radio contact with at least two more ship captains – both in the wee hours of darkness. One vessel overtook us, and we don’t think saw us until we radioed to ask his intentions. We think this was a freighter and the chatty pilot said he wished he was on a sailboat instead. While the person on watch can quietly hail another boat, the voice that comes back over the radio is usually booming – and it’s exciting enough to bring everyone out of their berths to see the lights and hear the conversation.
Another night we all three watched a slow-moving tug and barge coming toward us, and then begin to make a wide slow turn in front of us. We altered course to slow down and take his stern. The captain was a little sleepy sounding and we wondered why he decided to execute his turn across our path when he has the rest of the big empty ocean available. The tug was headed to Hawaii and like others, he was friendly and glad to make contact, wishing us a pleasant evening and safe trip. Being back in US waters we have already seen more commercial traffic than our earlier passages, and we expect to get even busier on the radar and radio as we near the Washington Coast shipping lanes.
Everyday Diversity
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| The captain cooked up a little celebration when we hit 40 degrees north latitude -- keeping up crew morale! |
The weather, wind, clouds, and sea state provide constant variety in our vista and in the feel of our outdoor cockpit room. The cockpit doors remain off, so even in the salon we feel and hear the strength of the wind in the rigging and the waves against the hull. It’s cliché but there really are so many moods of the ocean. The color of the water changes with the hours of daylight – from silver grey, to brilliant turquoise, to deep violet-black, and to green in the northwest waters. Sometimes it has the motion of a water bed, rhythmic rolling wave trains that rock you to sleep, or bigger rollers that lift you and set you down peacefully. Other times it’s up, up, down, up, over, SLAM – the bow of the boat ramps off a big wave and Solar Wind gives a shudder from her keel to masthead.
During the 16 hours of light, the sky transforms many times – we have transitioned from mostly wispy high clouds to dark grey heavy thunderheads to puffy white sunlit cumulus to thick fog with the misty air that tells you you’re inside the clouds – if you don’t like the weather, wait 5 minutes.
So what makes today different? Maybe it’s a visit from the albatross that we think is surely the same fellow entertaining us (and watching out for us?) with his graceful soaring around the boat. Maybe, it’s the night of phosphorescence streaking from our wake that is the brightest yet. Shower day, laundry day, time to read a book? Maybe, it’s something of our own creation – like dinner!
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| Litte treats like garlic stuffed olives become a highlight of the day |
We’ve continued to eat well. Louise
and I have fun taking turns concocting simple, but delicious and nutritious,
meals. Last night was seasoned rice, sautéed carrots with onion, and talapia
fillets (out of the freezer dept, not, unfortunately, off the pole). Tonight,
it’s baked sweet potato and pork. We’ve baked beer bread, carrot spice cake,
and tortilla chips. The stores are holding up well (except in a couple
departments). We will be cutting it close on coffee and wine (of course). Most
challenging may turn out to be a shortage of propane. We left Hawaii with one
full tank, and didn’t bother to find a place to fill the second, only because
we have never come close to using one up. Alas, we have used about 2/3 and are
starting to think about unheated foods.
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| Louise kept up her workout regimen -- even sitting on the boat is pretty good core work |
Another diversion has been “movie night.” Several evenings the seas have cooperated and we have gathered ‘round Louise’s computer for the rather unreal sensation of being taken away to another time and place while continuing to course through the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Most memorable was sitting in the cockpit, streaming smoothly through the massive ocean while listening on surround sound speakers to the ordeal of Tom Hanks and his crew orbiting the moon to get safely back to our planet aboard Apollo 13. A bit unreal… and a great escape from our own escapades!
Energy and Cooking Woes
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| Command Central |
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| Our "Good Luck" bands, gifts from cruising friends, have not let us down! |
At the height of our worry, we contacted the Coast Guard and in a very poor connection were able to communicate our intended arrival date at Cape Flattery and let them know that we might be coming into port without running lights and radar. Rebooting the Emon, replacing the alternator belt, topping up the battery cells with distilled water, checking the specific gravity with a hydrometer and keeping the solar panels tuned toward the sun even in overcast skies have made a little difference. The numbers look better a couple of days later and it appears we will make it the last 10 days, if we continue to watch consumption. The battery bank is only a little over two years old, so we should NOT have to buy new batteries… but we’ll see…
Meanwhile, the mid-night attempt to boil water for that
precious essential cup of coffee resulted in no flame at the propane burners –
we knew that we were down to a half tank of propane – could we really have gone
through it so fast?? Horror -- ten
days to go, no hot coffee or tea, no warm meals? How could we have calculated
so incorrectly? We’ve never had to watch the propane supply before? First the
batteries, now the propane – the luxury cruise is truly over! At times like
this it helps to think about how many boat systems are still working and how much more dangerous or
desperate our situation could be.
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| Figuring out the "new" cook free menu |
Necesssity (and comfort) being the mother of invention and
all that, we got creative. Melinda and Louise inventoried the entire food
stores, down to the bottom of the lower lowers where there were canned fruits
and veggies from before departing Seattle (why would we have dipped into those
when we’ve had fresh peppers and pineapple?). We moved everything that could be
consumed without cooking to the top and front, made lists, and brainstormed
combinations that sounded like meals.
In the meantime, Lanham rigged an alcohol
burner to sit on the gimbaled stove top and by rationing the 2 liters of
rubbing alcohol we had on board we were able to warm one meal a day and boil
the occasional pot of water.
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| The alcohol burner |
Our most critical need was for a way to consume caffeine when we’d get sleepy during watches. Lanham’s secret chef talent devised the instant coffee cookie. All of your powdered coffee, mixed with a half brick of cream cheese, and a little butter and sugar, made a potent mocha frosting that we used on Mexican vanilla wafers. They of course also had to be rationed, so you relished your half a special cookie and the little lift it gave you. We were able to stay quite satisfied and healthy with granola bars and bran cereal with soymilk, canned tuna, chicken, or pork with canned beans, corn, tomatoes and cheese.
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| Weeza mixing up her no-bake peanut butter power balls. |
We had plenty of peanut butter but not that much to spread it on so
we concocted no-bake peanut butter energy balls with granola and chocolate
chips, dusted in cocoa powder. We made sun tea, miso soup, and scrambled the
last of the Mexican eggs over the alcohol burner. (Yes, we did use all 10 dozen
eggs we started with and only a few went bad and overboard – we kept them
un-refrigerated, near the waterline and against the cool hull. The motion of
the boat was enough that we did not need to turn them.)
So… in the final chapter, the batteries continued to heal themselves and we had plenty of power for lights, radar and radio all the way into port (we will be watching and trouble shooting this fall).
And… when we went to take the empty propane tank out for
refilling, it was not so empty. A bang on the regulator got it going. It’s not
yet reliable (we will be redoing the wiring to the solinoid). The trip may end,
the boat projects, never.
We Were Not Alone….
As I passed the torch at midnight, from my watch to Lanham,
the full moon lit a patch of water and my ears tuned to hear a long slow exhale
of air and slosh of water off to starboard. We both listened and it came again,
and again. An auditory hallucination? more likely a sleeping whale. And sure
enough, here is what Louise writes about the next morning:
They call it ‘’the big pond”, and that it is: BIG! As I talked about my upcoming trip to cross the Pacific from
Hawaii to Washington State, many of my friends would comment on the supposed
monotonous view: water, water
everywhere. My experience was that
the view was ever changing, fascinating:
the color of the water, the shape of the swell , the cloud formations,
the wind waves, the stars and the moon at night. Your vision changes, you learn to have an ‘’eagle’s
eye’’… So it was, on a day with
moderate swell and plentiful white caps that my eye caught a different movement
on the horizon. There, at 2
o’clock (that’s how we often described the location of a citing…)…there was a
difference in the white foaming sea water….I waited and watched…suddenly a grey
whale shot vertically out of the water, twisted and went crashing back into the
water, fin pointing towards the sky!!
All three of us watched and laughed as the whales played in the surf and
the sun. We weren’t alone out
there and that felt good.
On Target… Finally
After Day 20, we are finally on
more or less of a rhumb line for the Strait of Juan de Fuca. We have gotten our
last of 4 five-day forecasts from Commanders’ Weather routers. While their
description of the ever-changing North Pacific High and all the other little
high and low pressure ridges, troughs, and zones we have been routing around is
a little lost in translation, we find we can finally head more East than north,
west, or (heaven forbid, south). And… better yet, the wind is clocking around
as predicted and we get the sleigh ride of a broad reach. Full sails out,
rollers higher than the dinghy on its davits, and 140 to 155 mile days! Again,
we have put out a warp to help steer as we surf down the face of giant rollers
going our way. For the most part the swell is harmonious and Solar Wind is
happily heading to the barn.
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| Bundled up coming into Neah Bay, after 26 days out |
We start to recalculate our days to go, figuring
out the variables in order to intersect Cape Flattery in daylight hours, and
refigure our fuel consumption, maintaining a reserve of 20 hours for making it through the straits should we need it. With our northern progress and the
increasing latitudes has come “chilllly weather.” We are in full foulies, hats
and gloves.
Sleeping in layers of clothes inside sleeping bags, and even putting on socks with our shoes for the first time in 10 months!
Sleeping in layers of clothes inside sleeping bags, and even putting on socks with our shoes for the first time in 10 months!
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| Our last (and biggest) tuna caught in the Pacific |
A couple memorable events in these last days included reeling in a fat (maybe 25lb) Big Eye tuna to share at the family homecoming, and the reinforcing of the newly cracked radar arch. (ugh!) Even with the welding done in Mexico to reinforce it, the pounding of the ocean crossing was too much. Back to the drawing board and designing modifications.
Land Ho!
Through
the fog and against the current, we rounded Cape Flattery about 8pm on Day 26.
The seas had been choppy and mixed around the cape, the 4 hour motor since we
had lowered the sails had taken 8 hours. Due to the ebb tide, our 6 knot engine
speed was only moving us 2.5 knots over the ground.
We
fueled the next morning at Neah Bay. Pleading “poor fisher people” with a kind
local who was at the fuel dock after his successful morning salmon catch, we
were gifted a 10-pound Chinook to take home with us.
A long day of motor sailing through heavy fog brought us into Port Angeles about 6pm. The giant freighters, barges, and Polar ice-breakers that are anchored throughout the harbor appear out of the fog like visions. Our radar and AIS was useful up until the end.
Read all about our reunion with terra firma and family in Louise's words:
The fog lifted, to show us the way home….
After 4 weeks at sea, as Solar Wind approached
land off of Cape Flattery, there was no land to see. Motoring through dense fog on a 41 foot sailboat, when there
are mega-tankers in the area, is no fun.
The most that can be said for it is that the motor was making hot water
and the fog provided enough privacy for showers on deck….a not unimportant fact
as we neared civilization!
Our first destination was Neah Bay Marina, our
final approach: around
midnight. Above the fog there was
a full moon. As we neared the
Marina a narrow slit in the foggy ceiling created a small opening for the
moonlight to shine down on the water.
To me, it looked like a landing pad for a UFO. It was like a scene from the the sci-fi movie: Close Encounters of a Third Kind. No one was out there, it was still and
dark, except for that one spot of light.
Off toward the shoreline we could see the lights of Neah Bay Marina, an
authentic fishing marina. Quietly
we pulled into our slip at the marina.
We were one of the few pleasure boats among the rusty fishing
boats. Melinda jumped easily onto
the dock to secure the bowline and I followed to help, but my legs just
crumbled beneath me after all those weeks aboard. No harm done. I got up and staggered around trying to help
with the lines. That night we
slept WELL, the marina was so quiet.
The next morning we tanked up and were on our
way, once again motoring through even denser fog. Around 6 pm, as we approached Port Angeles, our destination
for the next night, the fog lifted.
Gigantic cargo ships and high-tech ice breakers were to the left and to
the right of us. The harbour at
Port Angeles is huge. There was no
problem slipping between the larger vessles; but we were grateful for the
daylight and the clearing of the fog.
We had a good meal in town and slept well, looking forward to seeing the
family the next day at Sequim Bay Point!
We were forced to motor again, through even
denser fog, the next morning. We
could hear the fog horns of the big ships but visibility was no more than 200
feet. Lanham figured that we would
reach Sequim Bay around 2 pm. At
noon the fog began to lift…. we felt the sunshine, saw the Olympic Mountains
and Dungeness Light House: we were
getting close!! It was gorgeous
weather and spectacular scenery and our spirits lifted with the fog!
We saw the opening to Sequim Bay in
front us! We hoisted our
flags! We put on our dutch sailing
bandana’s! We assembled our noise
makers! I cried and hugged Cub and
Melinda, thanking them for providing me with a ‘’once in a lifetime
experience!!” But where was the
family? No one on Travis
Spit! Were we early or late? Did we have the right day?! Back to civilization….. Melinda called
on her cell phone and here they came, with tooters and banners!!!!
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| Wooo!Whoo! Making some noise at our homecoming! |
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| The "cold wet" welcome committee |
Bekah and Ethan braved the cold water
and swam to the boat!! We were
waiting for them with a hot shower, plenty of hot water after all of that
motoring! Gary rowed his dinghy
out and jumped aboard to greet us!
We loaded ourselves and my luggage into the dinghy’s and rowed ashore to
the waiting family! Hugs, hugs,
hugs….tears and laughter! Carol
brought a really fine picnic! We
were HOME!!! We made it!!!
PS… A final reflection from Louise
Number one question that I have heard: ‘’would you do it again?’’ My answer: ‘’Absolutely!!’’
I expected an adventure; I got one! I knew it would be difficult,
physically and emotionally; it was!
I had no idea how beautiful it would be! I knew it would be tiring; it was exhausting! I thought it would be scarey; it
wasn’t. Would I do it again? Yes, yes, yes!!
Family Reunion
The
Deal and Devin clan outdid themselves with Welcome Home banners, cheers,
applause, and even a cold water swim out to the boat!
The family had 4 glorious days in perfect weather to play,
talk, eat, rest, hang, and eat some more, centered around the beautiful newly
finished Dungeness Cabin belonging to Carol and Gary.
The cabin was a foundation when we left Sequim Bay in September...
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| The "perfect" elegant family get away... |
and is now a family retreat – what an accomplishment.
Highlights included badmiton and pickle ball tournaments, a wood-fired pizza party, and nephew, Chef Josh, creating an edible masterpiece with the tuna and salmon we brought in from the Pacific.
Thank you family – all!
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| The beautiful bluff at Sequim Bay Point |
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| and view from the "cabin" |
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| Champagne all around! |
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| Dan Devin makes a toast to our safe return! |
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| Sisters reunited |
nothing tough about living in the Northwest this time of year!
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| Josh's fresh tuna salad |
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| Anna took time out from Bar Prep to welcome us at the dock |
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| The Austin Texas family enjoyed a boat trip back to Seattle Dock Welcome and Motley Cruiser Reunion |
We
were welcomed to the dock at Elliott Bay Marina by more friends, family, and
fellow cruisers! Within 48 hours of our homecoming a group of cruising friends
we met in Mexico congregated in Seattle, hailing from Vancouver, Santa Barbara,
Reno, and Durango!
Thanks friends, for welcoming us to our old hometown and new condo. 
There are many acquaintances and fellow sailors to whom we send good
wishes for fair seas. We are closing out this Blog for now. Thanks for reading
and for living the year with us – it’s been a trip!
