06/01/2010, Bodega Bay, CA
I know I've been in port too long when my daughter tells me that the young woman who just waited on us at the Oregon Coast Aquarium Café is engaged to the funny waiter who took care of us the night before at the Rogue Brewery Restaurant. We also knew the bus drivers by name and knew how to give directions to newcomers. We had to get out of Newport, OR! Our weather guy called us on Thursday afternoon and said we could depart that night if we wanted - we cast off and slipped out of town.
I am now writing from Spud's Marina in beautiful Bodega Bay in Sonoma County, CA. Wine Country - but I didn't come for the wine tour. On Sunday May 30 we were sailing about 100 miles out from San Francisco talking about how it would be just another day or so before we'd likely be turning to starboard and heading toward Hilo. The wind had fallen a bit so we decided to shake out the reef on our mainsail and get some speed up. I went forward to do that and while I was cranking the mainsail back up the mast, a screw popped out of the boom. Where did that come from? I looked around and couldn't find the likely place so I put it in my pocket and would keep an eye out. Later I went forward again and noticed another screw on deck, and then a gap between two parts of the boom; ever time the wind gusted or we got a wave the boom pieces would separate and waggle back and forth. I am not a rigger, so I can't give the exact name of these pieces and parts, but essentially I am talking about the place where the long metal piece of the boom meets up with another small black piece that connects to the gooseneck which fastens to the mast. These parts allow the boom to stay attached to the mast and yet move around as it needs to. Short version: the boom broke. I quickly pulled the screw from my pocket and put it in the hole, yelled for Eric to suit up and meet me on the foredeck with a screwdriver and another screw. We assessed the situation, called our rigger back in Port Townsend by sat-phone and confirmed that we had a significant issue to address. Had we been in the middle of the ocean, we would have had to put our creative energies at work and jury rig some kind of solution. We could have done it, but would have been quite compromised. Since we could still motor back to San Fran and get the job done right, we opted for that instead of trusting our luck for another 2100 miles and beyond. The weather we experienced off Cape Mendecino (sustained winds of 25 kts and gusting with 8-10 foot wind waves one after the other for about 18 hours) was enough to make us realize what course we should take. We were very unlucky to have to stop our trip - just as we were beginning to bring the boat into a wonderful balance and sail her with some style - but very very lucky our rig held together during the big blow and that we didn't lose our boom and rip our new mainsail in the process.
Just after we made the call to change our course to 90 degrees and head for shore, the fog set in. One hundred miles off shore! All night long and most of the next day we had visibility of ½ mile or so. We watched the radar closely and kept a look out as best we could. At first we were heading directly for San Fran and ultimately Alameda. (Our rigger set us up with a shop with a great reputation in Alameda and said that he'd cover the costs of our repairs - a great thing to do) However, with the dense fog and the fact that we'd be making the mouth of the San Fran harbor at dusk - we chose Bodega Bay, a more straightforward harbor with a much easier entrance. We pulled in around 7pm, after navigating through fog so think we could hear the fog horn off the red nun as we rounded Bodega Rock and our radar told us we came within a few hundred feet but we never saw it. I imagine that is what pilots feel like when they fly at night under instruments alone. The wonders of radar, GPS, chart plotters and sat phones make it much easier for people like us to make these grand adventures at sea. My heroes are the sailors who started the cruising lifestyle with little more than charts, a chronometer, and a sextant
We will pull out of Bodega Bay at midnight tonight, June 1st, so we can hit the approach to San Francisco (60 miles away) around 10:00am just as the ebb turns to flood. The Coast Pilot says that during the month of June one can expect an average 4 days of fog. The forecast for this area calls for fog all week. Hmmm. Hoping for seasonably good weather and visibility as we head under the Golden Gate Bridge into one of the busiest US ports. A dubious pleasure.
After holing up in Newport, Oregon for a few days, we are on our way to Hilo. (I think we made it a day before Freya asked how much longer until we reached Hawaii.) We left Newport Thursday evening, a good thing too because the bar was closed Friday morning with more bad weather on the way. We saw many fishing boats around Newport and down the Oregon coast, but very few since the California boarder.
The first couple days at sea were spent adjusting to the motion and routines again. We had hoped to engage the kids on their school work while at sea, but that is proving difficult. It may get easier as we get more accustom to the motion and get into steadier winds to the south.
Sophie and Finn managed to play some monopoly, and Sophie created her own version based on the Harry Potter books, called Wizardopoly. She made a very elaborate board, but for ease referenced her properties back to the Parker Brothers properties cards and money. If the kids can play games with each other, it will be much easier for us. They watched one movie on Christine's laptop, then it stopped working. Hopefully we can get it repaired in Hawaii. My netbook is now our only computer, critical for communication and weather information.
Yesterday and last night we had 22- 25 knot winds from the north, and were sailing fast under double reefed main and staysail. The west swell made it a bit uncomfortable, but we are making good progress down the coast. Today the winds have a more comfortable 15 knots, and we are sailing due south at a good pace. We are all looking forward to warmer weather.
Our Spectra watermaker is working great, and enabled us to take some nice showers. We still have to conserve water, as it takes substantial power, but it is a nice piece of gear.
05/26/2010, Newport, OR
As I said goodbye to Ruth Ann, the love of my life, and entered the airplane in Grand Rapids, Michigan, early in the morning, I anticipated getting off a shuttle bus later that same day in Port Townsend, Washington, stepping onto the deck of my daughter's and my son-in-law's boat, the Jenny P, and setting sail for Hawaii. But that kind of start happens only in books about this kind of adventure. In reality people with good sense take it to heart when their weather router suggests that today is not a good day to meet the sea. Better wait for Sunday. So we did.
Our weather router, who resides in Hawaii, is in daily contact with Eric and Christine. He knows exactly where the Jenny P is, in port or at sea, at any moment, through a very sophisticated set of technological devices that also allow him to see what weather is ahead of us at any time and to make suggestions about alternatives to sailing through storms when alternatives are available. What a great and comforting service!
We had a very nice send-off the night before we left Port Townsend as Alan and Sandy stopped by with a bottle of very good wine and their best wishes. They took a couple of pictures to email to back to Bob and Alice, and through them to Ruth Ann. At six-thirty in the morning we left the dock and headed for Port Angeles, west along the mountain-rimmed coast of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Eric expected us to have to fight the flood for some part of the trip, but, as he predicted, most of our hours at sea were spent with the benefit of the ebb. We had only a one-day window to go west, according to the weather router, and we were not about to waste even that. We made Port Angeles without much difficulty, but were locked in there by a series of low pressure systems for another three days.
We crew made the best of it with excursions to a playground, an evening out with dinner and a movie (We thoroughly enjoyed the new documentary, Oceans) and a full day in Victoria on Vancouver Island where we visited the local castle and a maritime museum, traveling there and back by ferry.
Finally, our weather guru suggested we had a 72 hour window during which we could actually exit the Strait and sail down the coast of Washington and Oregon, perhaps as far as Newport, Oregon, before another set of low pressure systems were sure to come through. We left at high tide.
As we rounded the waypoint just outside the Strait of Juan de Fuca and headed south along the Washington coast, we adults on board broke out a bottle of Champaign, toasted Poseidon as well as each other, and headed south. We have decided on a two-hour watch schedule after having experimented with four-hour watches the first night. The four-hour watch proved too challenging in the cold. For the following 60 hours, the winds varied between twelve and twenty knots, gusting from time to time to twenty-eight The air temperature reached the mid- 50's during the daylight hours but got down to the low 40's after sunset. The rollers were generally at eight feet and above, off our starboard quarter, making life below difficult to say the least, but the children coped...not without some rancor, but they coped. A freshly baked apple cake in the early morning not only takes the bite out of the cold, but makes life below decks a lot more comfortable as well.
At the top of a swell I looked off to port across the gray valley that just passed beneath us and wondered about the life teeming below us, remembering the images from the movie, Oceans, and marveling at my good fortune to have been invited aboard by my daughter Christine and my son-in-law Eric. I have day-dreamed of just such an experience as this for decades. I am a very lucky man.
On an early morning two-hour watch the second day out, I heard a whales' blow off our starboard quarter, turned to look at the twelve foot spray, and just as that dissipated, the whale's enormous head came rising out of the gray swell to take a breath... all of which nearly took mine away.
We pulled into Newport, Oregon, straightened things out below, got a twelve hour sleep in and now are waiting out the two or three-day rainstorm our weather-router predicted. Life is very good. Anticipation is delicious.
After a sixty hour run down the coast we pulled into Newport Sunday night to wait out some bad weather per our weather router's instruction. Sure enough, less than 12 hours later it started to blow. It was nice being in the marina. We had much needed showers and a 12 hour sleep. We will need to manage nights and naps better on the long legs. The stop was productive asit also gave us a chance to fix and fine tune a few things. We made it about two weeks into this trip before I needed to fix the head ;). After several hours of trouble shooting the inverter issue turnout out to be some simple mis-wiring. We are going to have a lot to shake out. Unfortunately our boat work ran right up to our departure, and we couldn't spend the last month testing and practice. Everything we are encountering is minor and addressable though.
Newport was a nice town, and seemed like a close knit community. Being without a car, we round the local loop bus. The bus ride was more entertaining than its stops. Everyone on the bus knew everyone else, and greeted them by name as they entered. Age was no barrier to conversations, students discussed travel plans with retirees. As we boarded near the marina, they guessed us to be from a boat and included us in the dialog.
The Rogue Brewery was within walking distance, and had a very nice, family friendly restaurant. It also gave me a chance to replenish my small stash of Northwest beer from PT brewing, the waiting in Port Angeles had depleted it. (We are dry underway.)
There was also a nice Aquarium and Library, but Sophie and Finn's favorite place may have been the mounds of dirt and sand near the marina: climbing, exploring, and digging. It will be good to get them to a tropical beach and less constrained.
After many games of solitaire and many weeks in port, we have reached the open ocean. The waves here are 8 feet high. The sea life is so beautiful! I have seen 3 porpoises and grandpa saw 1 sei whale. Everything is amazing. Sleeping with other people is hard, especially when we are moving. The only benefit of sleeping with Finn and Freya is that I get a quarter every time I go to sleep before them, which is almost every night. I miss school and everybody a lot, but I think I'm going to have a lot of great experiences. Bye For Now, Sophie
We have exited the Strait of Juan de Fuca and "turned left". We celebrated turning the corner with some champagne my friend Amy gave us to wish us well. While delicious, we sipped sparingly anticipating our night watches, and poured some for Neptune for good luck. We are not quite on our way to Hilo: our weather router has informed us that another bad system is coming in Monday evening, and has advised us to hole up along the Oregon Coast. We are targeting Newport, and expect to arrive tomorrow afternoon. There is a decent amount of wind but we have been mostly motor sailing, as the swell is inconsistent, and it is hard to sail the coarse we need without bouncing people around in the cabin. Freya has mild motion sickness, but everyone else is doing fairly well, but tired. It is going to take us some time to really adjust to the motion of the boat.
A stop in Newport will give us a chance to make some adjustments and fine tune/fix things - my inverter has stopped working, so we only have DC gear. This is not critical as our import gear is all 12 volt, but it would be nice to recharge the cameras. We are also getting a good sense of what is going to come loose in big swells - we have had eight feet or so most of the day. Not too bad, but the direction isn't that consistent, likely because we are only 15-20 miles out. We would have steadier seas and better currents farther out, but the weather would be worse and will deteriorate Monday.
The AIS system is great, allowing us to get data on ships near us, generally 15 - 20 miles away. We have not seen a lot of traffic, but a few fishing boats have not shown up on radar or AIS, a little concerning. We are keeping vigilant watches.