Sequoia Changing Latitudes

16 June 2018 | Plymouth, UK
01 June 2018 | Gosford, UK
18 May 2018 | Suffolk Yacht Harbor, Ipswich, UK
13 September 2017 | Scappoose, Oregon
25 August 2017 | Suffolk Yacht Harbour
10 August 2017 | Göteborg
03 August 2017 | Motala, Sweden
23 July 2017 | Stämmarsund, Sweden
18 July 2017 | Navishamn Marina, Stockholm, Sweden
05 July 2017 | Oskarshamn, Sweden
27 June 2017 | Kalmar, Sweden
23 June 2017 | Karlskrona, Sweden
15 June 2017 | Marstal, Aero Island, Denmark
06 June 2017 | Vlieland Island, The Netherlands
19 May 2017 | Zelzate, Belgium
22 April 2017 | Jacksonville, Florida
19 April 2017 | Florida
25 March 2017 | Victoria, B.C., Canada

Celebrating our 50th Anniversary in Plymouth

16 June 2018 | Plymouth, UK
Barbara/Cloudy and windy
As many of you may know, we gathered family together in the island of Kauai this past February to have the big anniversary celebration. That was chosen for a date when nearly everyone could make it. Now it's our actual 50th anniversary, and we're celebrating with just the two of us and occasionally the new friends we meet en route. Our gift to each other is this trip of a lifetime.

For a few days we rented a car and drove to some magical places in Cornwall. First there was Tintagel on the north coast - The legendary King Arthur was supposed to have lived there, and the wizard Merlin was said to have a cave down on the beach below the castle. We certainly saw the castle and the cave, but the real bonus was the spectacular scenery - the blue-green water, dramatic cliffs, stairs continuing up and up, and the ruins from many different ages up on the top. The little cove there was a landing spot for trading boats during many different centuries, back to the times of the Phoenicians and Romans, and right up through the nineteenth century. My guess is that they only came in for a few hours at high tide, because it looks as though it must get quite shallow at low tide. But looking at that lovely blue-green water, we certainly thought about what it might be like to take Sequoia in there.
Above: Tintagel cove


A few miles down the coast we visited Port Isaac, the location for the Doc Martin series. Great fun to see those places in person - looks just like in the TV show. Doc Martin's cottage had a for rent sign on it. I'm guessing the lease must come with a clause that requires the tenant to allow the film crews to have access when/if another season is filmed...
Above: Doc Martin's cottage in Port Isaac

The next day we visited a mines museum in Redruth, contemplating the lives of those Cornish miners of 200 years ago. We saw the third largest steam engine in the world, used to lift water up out of the mine shafts. We also drove down to Falmouth, where the harbor is overloaded with boats, and the streets are overloaded with tourists. The more nautical tourists and all the boaters were awaiting the departure of the Golden Globe race for single-handers. We had planned to go to Falmouth in the next few days, but that is now off the table, in light of the crush of boats there, the iffy weather and the contrary currents.

Thursday was a boat chores day. I went off to do laundry, while Craig began a full treatment of our water tanks to defeat a slight (but unpleasant) sulfur smell in the drinking water. The treatment involves a lot of bleach which sat in the tanks overnight the previous night, then treatment with vinegar, then a lot of flushing.

At one point Craig came up to meet me for lunch, while I took a break in fussing with extremely inefficient dryers. Unfortunately, Craig didn't actually turn the dock hose off (he left the end of the hose, with its spray fitting closed, down inside the water tank, under one of our floor hatches). (You know what's coming next.) When he got back to the boat, he heard the bilge pump running (we NEVER hear the bilge pump running), and once inside found that the hose had exploded and sprayed water EVERYWHERE. There was water on the ceiling, inside the medicine cabinet, on the open laptop, on the face of our prized Rie Munoz print. Three out of our four sailing boots were full to the brim with water. Cushions were soaked, rugs were soaked, and every upright tub and other container was full of water.

About then I showed up with a couple of bags of dry laundry, and we both launched into clean-up mode. We had intermittent sunshine, so 24 hours later all the cushions were dry and the rugs very close to dry. We took the Rie Munoz print out of its frame; dried it out under weights between paper towels, and now it's back together; mat very wrinkled but dry, and the artwork apparently none the worse for wear. At some future date we'll get a new mat for it. On the plus side, the interior of the boat is freshly and thoroughly clean.

We had originally planned to leave Plymouth yesterday, but we opted instead to go out for a nice dinner to celebrate our 50th anniversary. We took the ferry across to the Barbican historic area, and ate at Quay 33, a modest restaurant recommended by every reference we checked. It turned out to be an excellent choice, with plenty of fresh seafood, wonderful crusty bread, delicious sauces and exquisite desserts. We were seated next to a mother and daughter (Kim and Nina) who are from St. Maarten in the Caribbean. Nina is just finishing up a 3-year stint at the University of Plymouth and returning home. Kim runs a dive service in St. Maarten, and we'll almost certainly look them up when we are there next winter. We had a wide ranging conversation about education, art, world politics, Plymouth, sailing, diving and the Caribbean. A truly delightful evening.
Kim and Nina at Quay 33


At the ferry on the way to dinner we ran into Karen and Jean-Luc of the French vessel Archimede. Long-time readers of this blog will recall that we first met them on the Danish Island of Aerø last summer, and then again a couple of weeks ago in Ramsgate. We met for coffee this morning and hatched plans for the next couple of days while blustery winds prevail. Tonight we'll have dinner together - our description of Quay 33 was so enthusiastic that they want to go there and we concurred.

This is the essence of the kind of cruising we want to do - flexible schedules and plenty of opportunities to meet and interact with people from other places in a meaningful sort of way. I am so fortunate to be married to Craig, who is very skilled at meeting people of all sorts and drawing them into meaningful conversations. I'm along for the ride and enjoying it very much!

Best wishes to our friends and family!
Barbara & Craig
S/V Sequoia

If you'd like to see more photos, check out the Flickr album that corresponds to this post.

Historic Towns and Cities along the South Coast of England

10 June 2018 | Plymouth, UK
Barbara/Cloudy
We have been continuing westward along the south coast of England, visiting iconic towns we've heard of before but never visited. Our pilgrim fathers and mothers were here, and so were those sailing heroes who defeated the Spanish Armada and the more recent hero soldiers we fought with in two World Wars. We see snippets of this history everywhere we visit, along with reminders of more peaceful times, such as Agatha Christie's summer home and the childhood hometown of Arthur Babbage (inventor of the first computer).
We left Portsmouth on a sunny, windy day, and all the sailors were out, sailing on the Solent, as every good English sailor is supposed to do (although we have met a few who said the Solent was not a favorite place). There were dinghy races and races involving much larger boats. We sailed past Cowes, where the very rich sailors live.
Above: Small dinghy racing with the City of Cowes in the distance.

We had hoped to put into Yarmouth on the Isle of Wight, but they were all booked up with an "Old Gaffers Association" event. Silly me, my immediate thought was that an old gaffer was an old man, or maybe something to do with filmmaking, but it turns out it means older gaff-rigged sailboats.


Above: Lymington-Yarmouth ferry

So we went instead to Lymington, which is on the south coast, and is indeed a ferry ride away from Yarmouth and the old gaffers. We became closely acquainted with that ferry, because it was departing Lymington as we went in the very narrow channel with a parade of other boats. The chart showed mudflats on either side of the channel, although all were covered at that moment. All you can do is stay as close to your side of the channel as possible, and there is indeed room for us all to get by.

We found our designated berth, and managed to get in without hitting anyone. There were all sorts of big motor yachts, overhanging the ends of smaller berths, and plenty of people out on the back decks celebrating the weekend. We became acquainted with the folks on the next boat over, particularly since they very kindly caught our lines as we docked. We shared a drink later, learning about Pimms, an alcoholic concoction with floating strawberries and mint leaves.
We walked inland, past a thousand other boats, past "England's oldest open-air seawater bath" (swimming pool to us Americans) and finally into the town proper. Plenty of rich people live here. We walked past one yard that had a Maserati and a 50's era Cadillac parked alongside a more mundane VW.
Above: expensive cars in Lymington

The center of the town is charming with narrow streets and tourist-oriented shops. There was a Musto and a Henri Lloyd shop (both sell upscale clothing for sailors). It was Saturday night and all the restaurants were full. We finally found a spot in a bar's terrace and watched the seagulls stealing food off unattended plates.

Not surprisingly in this upscale place, the marina rates were the highest we've seen, so we left the next day at noon, timing our departure to catch slack tide at "The Needles", a series of rocks marking the western end of the Isle of Wight and the exit from the Solent. It's a narrow channel and a lot of water must pass through in the changing tides, so timing is important. There is a big castle/fort on the coast with gun emplacements trained in every direction across the water. It's called Hurst Castle and was first built by Henry VIII in 1544. Its military use now ended, it's a place for walkers and sunseekers to wander.
Above: Hurst Castle

There wasn't much wind, so we motored all the way to Portland, 40 plus nautical miles to the west. (I say 40 "plus" because 40 was our distance through the water, but we had 1-3 knots of favorable current most of the way - thus the real distance may have been more like 50 nautical miles.) We chose Portland because we'd had several people say the facilities were very good there, and it looked like an easy entrance in any conditions. The town is actually called Castletown, built to service the marine industry there. South of the town is the Isle of Portland, home to many quarries which provided stone for (among others) St. Paul's Cathedral and the British Museum in London, as well as the UN in New York. The stone was also used 200 years ago to make the immense breakwater which created the largest artificial harbor in Britain. The breakwater is still in fine condition, apparently without much need for maintenance. The marina itself was built for the 2012 Olympics, and the 2012 sailing events were held there. It is indeed provided with very nice facilities!

We met Ian and Alison there, and quickly became good friends. Ian was the manager of the Olympic facilities in 2012, and the two of them were the source of a lot of good information about the immediate area and about cruising the south coast in general. They were setting out the next day for Dartmouth, as were we. They planned to leave at about 3 am to catch the slack water around the bottom of the Portland Bill, while we planned to leave at about 1:30 pm to catch the slack at the next tide cycle.

I had to look up "bill" because this was not a use I was familiar with. Most of the meanings of bill come from old French, "bille", but there are two which come from the old English word, bill: (1) the beak of a bird, and (2) "a narrow piece of land projecting into the sea: Portland Bill." Interesting that the Oxford English Dictionary uses where we are as their example!

We were warned that not only should we go around the Portland Bill at slack water, but also we should choose between 100 yards or 5 miles distance from the land. In between was reputed to be a dangerous tide race, even at slack water. We chose 100 yards offshore, and it was a complete non-event. It was interesting seeing the buildings, people and activities onshore, but we couldn't get anyone to wave at us. (It seemingly is a tourist destination - plenty of people and a few tour buses, but no wavers!)
Above: Portland Bill

We motored the rest of the way to Dartmouth - a cloudy day, and getting darker as we arrived. The entrance to Dartmouth is astonishing. The River Dart cuts a V down between high cliffs, and there is a castle on either side. We later learned that starting about the time of Henry VIII, a chain was at times strung across between the two castles, to prevent the enemies of England from entering.



Beyond the narrow entrance the river widens out and there are thousands of boats, on moorings, on anchor and in various marinas. We had reserved a slip at Darthaven Marina, on the east side of the river, at a town called Kingswear. A foot ferry and a car ferry go back and forth to Dartmouth (on the west side) pretty much continuously all day and into the evening. These are old towns, scrabbling up steep hills on both sides of the river, with green fields above and ancient buildings (or ruins) visible on some of the hillcrests. We stayed in Dartmouth three days, with ever more to see and do.
• We walked out to Dartmouth Castle at the entrance, and learned about the defensive history, including extensive exhibits of cannons and various other weaponry. Some of the cannons seemed to be aimed at a cruise ship anchored offshore. We thought that was fine, since their passengers were clogging the town. Part of the castle is St. Petrox Church, where one of the tombstone/pavers recited the history of a widow who lost her husband in a 1696 naval action against "the publick enemies of his Country" and "made his Bed in the Deep."
• We explored some of Dartmouth, winding up at the Marks & Spencer "food hall" (grocery store), which had some breathtaking prices, but also some foods we've been hankering after, like sourdough bread, strawberries that are red all the way through, and canned soups that actually have some interesting flavors (something that cannot be said of most UK soups).
• A shallow-draft ferry makes a 1 ½ hour trip up the Dart River to Totnes. At Dittersham, Agatha Christie's summer house was pointed out to us, and a bit further on, the Sharpton Estate, founded by an English sea captain who had prize money to invest. Sharpton now is a winery, featuring expensive meals and tours for tourists. Totnes is an interesting town with narrow streets, historic buildings and a museum showcasing Elizabethan life and also featuring hometown boy, Arthur Babbage, a 19th century mathematician who invented (but never built) the first computer. We had lunch at "Pie Street", which features authentic handmade English pies. Craig had the "steak and ale" and I had the "chicken curry". Both delicious.
• Ian and Alison, whom we had first met in Portland, were berthed two docks over at the Darthaven Marina. They found us and invited us over for drinks. We spent another enjoyable hour plus with them, soaked up advice about what to see and do on the south coast, and learned about theretofore unknown English customs (such as, if invited for drinks, you are NOT supposed to bring a bottle of wine, but if you are invited for dinner it's OK...) We very much hope we'll be able to stay in contact and see them again before too long.
• We took a bus to Paignton, a somewhat tawdry English seaside resort, and then the historic steam train back to our boat in Kingswear. The steam engine could have been straight out of Harry Potter, with a coal fired boiler, a steam whistle, and that iconic "Chug-ch-ch-ch, Chug-ch-ch-ch" which speeds up as it leaves the station.
Above: In front of the steam engine - Notice the view of coal burning!

• We had lunch at "The Ship Inn," a traditional English pub located on "Higher Street" (just above "High Street"). The staff couldn't say how old the pub was ("very old"), but it had a low ceiling with rough, black-painted beams, and the ceiling itself was papered with old navigation charts.
From Dartmouth we departed at 6 am, to catch the favorable tide, and made our way to Plymouth, where we now are. Again there was no wind and we motored all the way. We have landed at Plymouth Yacht Haven, a short ferry ride away from the central downtown area (the "Barbican"). We took the ferry yesterday, went to see the Mayflower Steps (from whence our Pilgrim Fathers and Mothers departed for the New World), and found a completely inadequate grocery store. We'll do better tomorrow. I know where the Plymouth Marks & Spencer is...
We'll be here for 7 days total, with several major boat chores to undertake. We think we'll rent a car and go see some of the more land-based sights in Devon and Cornwall.
We hope all is well with you, our dear friends and family.
Craig and Barbara
S/V Sequoia

Check out our Flickr album which has lots more pictures corresponding to this post.

Getting to Portsmouth

01 June 2018 | Gosford, UK
Barbara/foggy in the morning, mostly overcast
We're in Portsmouth for a few days, both because it's such a historic, interesting place, and because it seems to be the center of the UK yachting world - a good place to find expert advice and boat parts for - you guessed it - Boat Repairs! But I'm jumping ahead of the story, and we've had a collection of interesting experiences over the last week, so I'll back up a bit.

We left the Suffolk Yacht Harbour about a week ago, crossing the Thames estuary and arriving in Ramsgate in the early evening. A number of people had suggested we ought to go up the Thames River and experience docking in London, but in the end it was a trade-off for more time in warmer climates. We've seen London as tourists - there is of course always more to see, but then there's the whole world to see.

The Thames estuary is a crazy sort of patchwork of deep ship channels going to and from London, alternated with sand bars and shallow stretches where you have to watch the chart very carefully. One fellow suggested that we should use his favorite "local knowledge" route, which would take us over some spots marked as 2 meters deep at low tide. Our draft - the distance the boat's keel sticks down into the water - is 2.1 meters. We would not be transiting the area at low tide, but still danged scary. The other part of his "local knowledge" route is passing across the corner of a wind farm. He says that those turbine blades come down to within 22 meters off the water. Hmmm, let's see; our mast sticks up about 21 meters - yikes. Admittedly you don't have to go very close to each wind turbine, but still... Needless to say we didn't take the "local knowledge" route, and therefore we didn't get there as fast as he might have done...

Ramsgate is almost at the narrowest spot of the English Channel, so the current goes ripping by the entrance to the marina at a good clip. You have to ask permission to enter or leave - both because visibility is somewhat restricted, and also because it used to be a place with a lot of ferry traffic. (The Chunnel - tunnel under the English Channel - has dramatically decreased the ferry traffic.) Ramsgate was also formerly a fishing town; now it's a city with an industry of servicing the wind farms which seem to be everywhere in the North Sea. We saw lots of interesting boats there, including one that had participated in the Dunkirk rescues in 1940, and was being restored.

It was not long after we arrived that we were hailed by Karen and Jean-Luc - the American and French couple we had met last summer on the Danish island of Aerø. They are spending the next few weeks on the south coast of England, so we may well see them again after this. They were headed across to France for a short trip to get some French groceries - they're not liking what they're finding in English markets!

The harbor of Ramsgate is surrounded with 18th and 19th century buildings that seem to tower protectively, but in a somewhat disorganized way. Just behind the harbor there is a section of chalk cliff that is covered in places by buildings, including the "Sailors' Church", the "Ramsgate Home for Smack Boys founded 1891" and a street that diagonals up the cliff supported by beautiful arches. Under each arch is a business, including bars, cafes, antique shops, chandleries, stevedores, and wind farm support services.

Above: Ramsgate marina and historic waterfront.

Above: Ramsgate Home for Smack Boys


We found an excellent Thai restaurant part way up the cliff, and made plans for the next day's excursion - to Canterbury Cathedral. The next morning we took a local bus to Canterbury, wandered around the old part of the city, and eventually found our way to the Cathedral. Sometime in perhaps junior high or high school, I had studied "Murder in the Cathedral" by T.S. Eliot, which was when I first became familiar with the story of a king who said, in 1170, "Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?" Four knights who took that as an invitation to seek out and kill archbishop Thomas à Becket as he knelt in prayer in Canterbury Cathedral. I have always been intrigued by the story, and welcomed the opportunity to see the place where it all happened. The Cathedral has excellent volunteer docents who have vast amounts of knowledge about all the details of the building and its people. We heard the story of the murder, step by step, in full gory detail. What I did not know was the later history - that Thomas was canonized within 3 years, a shrine was built in the Cathedral, and pilgrims came from afar - including those written about in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. When Henry VIII (the one with six wives) decided to leave the Catholic Church so he could divorce, he ordered the shrine destroyed. Much more recently, the Cathedral has installed a candle in the place of the shrine - it stands alone on a vast expanse of marble floor.


The next morning we left very early to catch the best possible currents as we headed southwest. We had good northeast wind. We passed Dover, changing course frequently to avoid ferries. We saw the White Cliffs of Dover through the misty air, and dutifully recorded it with a cell-camera snap. In the middle part of the day the tide was against us, but we continued on, reaching our destination, Eastbourne, in the late afternoon. It's a tricky entrance at low tide, with not much room to maneuver, and they only open the locks every half hour. We just made it!

Above: locks at entrance to Eastbourne Marina


Yes, a marina with locks. This will apparently be a frequent occurrence from here on out. There is not enough deep water harbour available to build a marina that will accommodate a boat like ours when the tide is low. So the developers design a landlocked marina with a particular water height, and then boats are brought up at low tide or dropped down at high tide, all by means of a lock system. This was our first encounter with locking into a marina, and it seemed to be fairly low-stress and well operated. Thunderstorms were predicted, and indeed it started to rain fairly early in the evening, followed by a raucous night of thunder, lightning and torrential rain. We were cozy in our boat, glad we were not still out on the ocean.

The Eastbourne Marina is quite something. It consists of a number of mooring basins, connected by canals. All around the main part of the marina, the canals, and the side mooring basins there are high-rise apartment buildings. The boaters are lured in by the secure marina and the relative calm created by the tall buildings, and the tourists (or permanent residents) are lured in by having a front row view of either the sea, or the marina. Somehow the developers forgot about greenery, so it's a development of all bricks, stone and water, and has a somewhat austere feeling about it.
The place was full of tourists, and the one area of restaurants was packed out. We walked out toward the supermarket, but when we asked directions, we were told the supermarket was closed - it was another bank holiday. (That's the third bank holiday during the month of May, as near as we can tell. The Brits seem to get a lot of holidays!)

The morning after our arrival in Eastbourne (after that storm-filled night) we made friends with the five women across the dock. Craig initially approached them for some marina advice, and then he charmed them with his knot-tying skills. They told the story of why there were so many items of clothing hung across their rigging (we assumed they had been out on the ocean in the storm the previous night). It turned out, though, that they had been at one of those restaurants across the marina, late in the evening, and had to walk back through the pouring rain.

The women had chartered their boat in Portsmouth, and were out for the hours of experience necessary to achieve the next level of UK yacht certification. We spent the larger part of the afternoon with them, talking about knots, women who sail, a bit of politics, and a bit about marinas in Portsmouth. (See photo at the top of this blog post). They were a delightful group, and I hope we get to see them again during our travels. They took their boat back out the locks that evening, heading back to Portsmouth at night, racking up some nighttime sailing hours (again for that UK sailing certification).

The next morning we set off early for Portsmouth, in a day of glorious sunshine. We sailed past Beachy Head, ever on the lookout for lobster pots, and then past the Seven Sisters cliffs - considerably more scenic (and more visible) than the white cliffs of Dover had been 2 days before. After a long day with little wind but towering thunderheads, motoring all the way, we reached the approaches to Portsmouth. We had been told that this is the Queen's harbor, and you can't go down the shipping channels without permission from the Queen (I think all this advice was a bit tongue in cheek). All the sailboats did go right down the edge of the channel, and there was certainly a lot of large ship traffic.

Most of the marinas are across the waterway from the City of Portsmouth. Portsmouth has all those fantastic historical ship displays we had seen as tourists a year ago, but it doesn't have much in the way of docking for recreational boaters. We chose Gosport Marina, the one that is the closest to the foot ferry to Portsmouth (although it turned out we only went over to Portsmouth to deal with the perpetual headache of keeping cell phone and data connectivity going). The first slip they assigned us to had, they assured us, plenty of depth for us, even given that it was, at that moment, the lowest tide of the month. Well guess what, of course, we went aground into the soft mud. With some jockeying, a rising tide and help from other boaters, we were able to exit that berth and proceed to a better one. Perhaps a little bit chagrined from the first experience, the harbourmaster put us into a lovely berth with plenty of depth, close to the office and bathrooms, and a front row view across the channel toward the HMS Warrior and the Spinnaker Tower. Here we are surrounded by much larger sailboats, including the training fleet for the Clipper round-the-world race. (That's the one where you can sign up - and pay for - a leg of the race, regardless of whether you have any experience or not.)

We got ourselves docked, walked a block for a great pub dinner, and settled in, watching all the boat traffic go by. Every few hours the immense Brittany Ferry to St. Malo goes by, sounding like a freight train and lit up like a Christmas tree.

The next day we made the aforementioned outing to Plymouth by ferry, and then visited the Submarine Museum. The centerpiece of the museum is a World War II submarine that was completed just before the end of the war and never actually saw action. We (along with many other tourists) had the complete tour, seeing the torpedo tubes, torpedo storage systems, potato sacks and canned goods stuffed in the corners, tight bunks, the radio room, engines, periscopes and miles and miles of copper tubing. A plumber's heaven, Craig says; I'd be inclined to say Steam Punk heaven.


Back at the marina, we had been invited for a happy hour by Karen and Stuart, the owners of Commodore Yachts, which runs a sailing school and charters yachts for local outings. They spend their winters on their boat, a Formosa 51 "Fantasia", in Mexico, and were interested in chatting about our experiences there in 2010-2011. They lead very interesting lives, with their primary residence in France, but their home for most of the summer in the upper floor of the Commodore Yachts office/training center/barge. We hope to stay in touch with them, perhaps finding a way to visit when we are in Brittany in about a month.

That evening as we finished up dinner on the boat, we heard a lot of commotion and loud voices outside. It turned out a 60 foot racing sled had just arrived after passage across the Atlantic from Guadeloupe in the Caribbean. It was a Lithuanian boat with 12 young men, and they were all on the dock talking on their cell phones... They said they had made the passage in 8 days, which would be astonishing. They were exuberant about the experience (or perhaps about their arrival) and described their boat as the "number one boat in Lithuania" and the "Pride of Lithuania". They weren't so enthusiastic about the porridge they'd been eating for days, and they soon headed off to the nearby pub, although not until many group photos had been taken, including several which Craig took at their request.



Yesterday was devoted entirely to boat work. When you are in the boating and boat repair capitol of the UK, it's a good place to do work that may require the acquisition of additional boat parts. We completely upended the interior of the boat to run a new cable under floorboards and behind cabinets. We finally escaped for dinner out, and spent a delightful few minutes chatting with "the Gosford Group" as they wish to be known to us in the future. They'll be following our blog, and one lady declared herself intensely jealous of our future plans. She probably hasn't thought about being down on her hands and knees running wire under the floorboards.

Well, I didn't think I had much to write about over these past few days, but it turns out I did. If you got this far you must be enjoying it as much as we are!

Click to see more of our pictures showing what's described in this blog entry.

Back in the Water

18 May 2018 | Suffolk Yacht Harbor, Ipswich, UK
Barbara/ Partly cloudy, light winds, cool
It was a bit difficult leaving Oregon. First, there was the gorgeous weather which had finally arrived, then the rhodies coming into bloom and the berry blossoms full of potential. But we were about to face new and unknown challenges to get back to Sequoia, waiting for us at Suffolk Yacht Harbour near Ipswich, UK.

I had started to write this blog post with a narrative of all the various challenges we have faced (and surmounted!) over the last week, but it just got too long-winded and depressing. I'd rather write about happy stuff.

Here's the very brief summary of some of the challenges and aggravations; then I promise to leave it alone and go on to happier things:
• Original Delta flight delayed 6+ hours by engine trouble
• Flight rebooked on British Airways, one bag came with us; the other didn't.
• Train tickets no good because we missed the time due to flight delays.
• Too late to pick up rental car - as it turns out they rented it out to someone else, but still charged us. The next day we had to wait 2 hours for them to find a rental car.
• Lost bag finally reappeared with huge ripped seam on one end. Apparently, we didn't lose anything other than the usability of that bag...
• Sequoia's relaunching delayed by 2 or 3 days because of the yard's failure to sooner complete tasks they had agreed to last September. (Requiring us to move hotels once, if not twice.)
• Sails (which had been in storage for the winter) redelivered to us 2 days early so they'll be in bags on the deck, in the way during the relaunching.

There were many other petty aggravations, having to do mostly with a change in cultures, change in expectations, high levels of bureaucracy and our unfamiliarity with things like the British mobile phone system. And did I mention the usual slow torture of flying coach for long distances? And did I mention jet lag?

Don't get me wrong; there have been many delights and wonderful interactions with the British people. We find that people want to talk about Trump and Brexit and our respective opinions about what's going to happen next. People in shops, stores and cafes have been, for the most part, delightful, helpful, and apparently glad that Americans are coming to visit. Although the news media seem obsessed with the royal wedding, no one has actually talked to us about that.

We were invited for dinner and an overnight stay by Ian and Pauline Lowe, who live on Mersea Island, an hour south of here. We had met Ian as we were transiting the Göta Canal last summer in Sweden - he was heading east in his boat as we were heading west in ours. He was the one who suggested we need not go as far as Portsmouth for winter storage - that we would find a less expensive but just as fine moorage and boatyard in the Orwell River. Ian and Pauline are just about to set off for their summer expeditions in the Baltic, but they made time in their schedule for us to join them and several of their friends for a nice dinner at the West Mersea Yacht Club. That club, in a town of about 8000 people, has 1000 members!

Above: View out the yacht club's southwest-facing windows.


Above: Ian introducing Craig to friends at the yacht club.

One of the fascinating things about Mersea Island is that it's only an island at the highest tides, and there is a causeway that is - most of the time - open for car traffic. You have to consult tide tables when planning a visit there.

Above: the Mersea Island causeway. Notice the depth indicator at the side of the roadway.

The yacht club has a round-island race once a year, for rowboats, kayaks, canoes, and other small boats that don't need much water to float. It's held on a day that has one of the highest tides of the year. Each participant gets to decide what time to start and which direction to go. Currents are strong, and of course you want to be at the causeway when it is the most deeply flooded (i.e. at high tide). So quite a lot of strategy is involved in balancing water depth, strong currents and predicted winds. It's apparently a race that attracts a large number of participants and spectators, and it's reportedly quite a party.

After dinner at the yacht club, we stopped by the West Mersea Parish Church to listen in for a half hour of their annual "Mersea Island Music Marathon". We happened to catch an R&B group, and the church was absolutely packed out. At other times they had classical music scheduled, but I guess not at a late hour on a Friday evening.


At breakfast the next morning we picked Ian's brain about where to stop along the south coast of England, and of course a bit of politics crept in to our conversation. A truly delightful time, and we regret that we live so far away from these gracious people. Perhaps they'll come to visit us in Oregon?

We headed back to the boat, navigating the incredibly convoluted roads with vast collections of round-abouts strung together. It was certainly easier Saturday morning than it had been the night before during rush hour!

[Six days later]

We were originally scheduled to launch on Tuesday. But that didn't work for the yard, and it was a good thing, because Craig was having a lot of difficulties with replacing the dripless shaft seal. (This is a device that connects the propeller - outside of the boat - with the engine - inside of the boat. Obviously you don't want the connection to leak, so it's definitely a good thing.) The device - which looks like a heavy rubber bellows - is supposed to be replaced every 6 years. It's been 18 years, so it would seem to be about time. I was not part of this project, but it involved a lot of awkward positions, head scratching, tool invention, dirty, oily hands, and quite a few strong words. Ultimately, Craig enlisted help from a mechanic, and the job was done.


We also got the graphics replaced - both the word "Sequoia" and the designation of our home port on the stern of the boat. Those graphics - dating from the boat's commissioning back in 2001 - were showing the effects of 17 years of weather and an occasional encounter with a dock or lock wall. Now the boat looks great - just like new! (See photo at the top of this blog post).

We then hoped to be put into the water on Wednesday, but it turned out the yard still had things to do that were going to take more than 24 hours. So Thursday it was. Our characterless but perfectly fine Holiday Inn had no room for us Wednesday night, so we moved to the Orwell Hotel, a Victorian establishment in Felixstowe. It had impressively grand but somewhat worn down public rooms. When we arrived two of the big rooms were devoted to a well-attended wake. We walked down into the center of Felixstowe (a beach resort in its pre-season) and found an excellent Vietnamese restaurant. Returning to the hotel against bitterly cold wind, we tucked into the hotel's Library and spent a pleasant hour reading newspapers and our Kindles. Our room, on the second floor (third floor for us Americans) was very short on water pressure, and was otherwise nothing to write home about (so I won't).

Above: Orwell Hotel Library



Thursday (yay) they lifted Sequoia off her hardstands, where she had been since last September, and lowered her into the water. The new dripless shaft seal DID NOT LEAK. Yay! We motored to our assigned dock and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Of course, a tremendous amount of work awaits us, doing provisioning, laundry, getting those big sails bent on, and otherwise putting a certain amount of order into what now looks something like chaos.


Above: Sequoia at the dock in Suffolk Yacht Harbour

Last night we had dinner at the Yacht Club's "light ship" restaurant. (It's actually aboard a historic lightship, painted red, permanently docked here at the marina.) They have a restaurant and bar which are very pleasant, and always full of yacht club members. We got to talking with a group of sailors who were just back from a days' outing providing sailing experiences to local blind people. They described the people's reactions to sailing - everything from scared spitless and cowering in a corner to exuberantly participatory. One of the fellows we met at last night's dinner offered to come over and help us bending on the mainsail this afternoon - something that really requires three people to do on Sequoia - and we're really glad for the help.


Above: The Lightship which houses HPYC restaurant, bar and meeting rooms.

We'll be on the move in a few days - heading toward the south coast of England. Before we go, Craig plans to take an on-the-water exam to get his "ICC" (International Certificate of Competency) - something that is reportedly required by European bureaucrats we're likely to encounter over the next few months.

I'll leave this here, so it doesn't get too interminable. Look for more to come!

More photos for this blog post.

Returning Home

13 September 2017 | Scappoose, Oregon
Craig & Barbara
We're back home now, in fact we've been home a week and are finally nearing the end of the jet lag symptoms. Time for a wrap-up about our time in Northern Europe.


Above: The River Orwell as seen from the Suffolk Yacht Harbour boat yard. Notice the tide flats closest to the breakwater, mooring field next, and the navigable portion beyond.

I last wrote when we arrived at Suffolk Yacht Harbour on the River Orwell, near Ipswich. This is an area of England known as East Anglia, and it definitely has a different flavor from many other parts of the UK. The countryside is flat and mostly agricultural. Short rivers break up the coast there, and they seem to have vastly more water movement from the strong tides than they do from any water flowing from inland. There are plenty of historic and interesting pubs with excellent menus, both for traditional bar food and for more adventurous international dishes.


Above: The Ferryboat Inn, north of Felixstowe.

We had made arrangements in advance for a brief period of moorage at Suffolk Yacht Harbour, followed by a haul-out on the first of September and winter storage on the hard. Yet when we called to say we were arriving, they said they had no space. Ultimately, they were willing to put us at the fuel dock until another slip opened up. So we spent the morning at the fuel dock, jockeying around from time to time to allow boats to tie up to another part of the dock, or worse yet, raft alongside us, passing the fuel hose across our deck. Not the best of situations. Finally in the early afternoon a space became available between M and N docks, in a distant portion of the marina. We sailed there during a relatively high tide and secured ourselves to the portion of the dock that runs alongside the shore.

I mention the tide because we found out that night that there wasn't enough depth on that dock to accommodate us at the very low tide. This was the lowest tide of the month, a so-called "spring" tide. During the evening we noticed the boat stopped moving. Craig flipped on the depth sounder, and it indicated a depth of 4.9 feet. Our draft (distance the keel dips below the water) is 7.1 feet. We got out onto the dock to have a look, and found that our waterline was about 8 inches above the water. Presumably the other foot and a half of the keel was dug into the mud. I found myself wondering whether we might be so stuck in the mud that suction would pull us underwater when the tide came in. (Of course that's ridiculous!)


Above: Sequoia at low tide in Suffolk Yacht Harbour.

There are huge tides in the River Orwell, much like the inland waters of the Pacific Northwest. While we were there the tidal swing seemed to start at about 12 feet, decreasing to about 7 feet later in the month. One other effect of the huge tides was that as the tide fell, our direct line to any cell phone or wireless signals disappeared. If you wanted to have access to the internet, better wait until high tide!

We spent a busy and interesting week preparing for the haul-out. We needed to completely winterize the boat, pack our bags to go home, and fix some pesky system problems and deck leaks. We also wanted to arrange with the boatyard for work to be done during the winter, and with a local canvas shop to have our dodger (or as they call it, "spray hood") replaced. The water system was acting up in a number of different ways, and as Craig launched into figuring out what was wrong, many different problems came to light. The water pump was the original one (dating from 2001), but there were many other problems as well. Ultimately he found out that a brass valve had quit working so even when the new pump was installed, the system was still sucking air instead of water. Craig, such a talented engineer, was able to get everything working, although there are touches that will have to be finished up next spring when we return with parts that aren't very available (or not available at all) in Britain.

On the dock, many people stopped by and asked the usual question ("Did you sail all the way here from America?"). We met many friendly folks, including a nice couple docked adjacent to us, who supplied plenty of information about where the good pubs are, and what sights ought to be seen. We also picked up some lunches and dinners at the yacht club's restaurant, housed in an old lightship. Food was fairly ordinary, but we certainly met some interesting people there and heard lots of good stories, advice, and (I'm sure) lies of the traditional sort. (That's a photo of the marina at dusk and the Lightship Restaurant at the top of this blog entry.)

We rented a car and refreshed our skills about driving manual transmission with the gear shift to the left of the driver, not to mention driving on the left side of the road. The roundabouts were the most challenging. We're convinced that they are used as a low-cost alternative to traffic lights, and there seem to be unspoken rules about how to negotiate them. One big roundabout, near the container port of Felixstowe, involved negotiating stoplights at the entrance and each exit. Then there were the single-lane roads with an occasional pull-out. One of these, which we traveled regularly, appeared to be the only route for rush-hour traffic going from the SYH marina to Felixstowe. The English rush-hour drivers seemed a bit perturbed at the extremely cautious Americans...



The boat was hauled out as scheduled on September 1, with a minimum of fuss. We moved off the boat to an Airbnb place in Felixstowe. We continued to work like crazy getting the boat ready for winter storage, including plenty of trips to chandleries, hardware stores, laundries, grocery stores, etc. We're fairly satisfied with the condition we left the boat in, although there are inevitably plenty of worries when the boat is 5000 miles away. It doesn't help that with all the hurricane damage in Texas, Florida and the Carribean, we are seeing daily news clips of trashed sailboats.

So, what were some of our broad impressions of the summer we just spent on the boat in Northern Europe? Or put another way, is there any advice we would give to other boaters contemplating a similar trip?

First is the importance of planning. When we first conceived of this trip, "the Baltic Sea" seemed like a reasonable goal for the summer. Our primary desire was to visit Denmark, Sweden and Finland. But in addition, I contemplated going around the edges of the Baltic Sea, including Germany, Poland and the former Soviet republics of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. We thought we'd be able to visit St. Petersburg, Russia. WRONG! It is a vast area, and even the small chunk we attempted would have benefited from being smaller. Yes, you can get to many places, but don't you want to enjoy them when you get there? For instance, we only took two "layover days" in transiting the Göta Canal, and those were the most enjoyable days of all. We should have had five or six layover days so that we could have done more than just cruise by all those lovely places.

An issue that affected our whole time there was concern about not overstaying our time in the Schengen zone. (The Schengen Treaty includes more or less the same countries as the EU, with a few additions and subtractions, most notably the UK, which is not in the Schengen zone although it still is - for now - in the EU.) Americans are allowed 90 days in the Schengen countries. There doesn't seem to be any mechanism whatsoever for extending that period of time.

Knowing that our exit from the Schengen zone would be via the North Sea, we began to worry by mid-summer about whether we would have adverse weather in the North Sea, and how much of our Schengen zone time should be allocated to waiting for a weather window. As it turns out, we allowed 3 days for waiting in Helgoland, Germany, and that was just enough. There was bad weather (wind as much as 39 knots) which prevented us from leaving before we did. But planning for the end of our Schengen time affected our route choices and our decisions to move on sooner than we might otherwise have wanted to.

When we re-enter the Schengen zone next spring, it will be possible they will ask us for proof that we complied with the time limits in 2017. We have passport stamps for the entry, but to prove our exit we'll have to rely on cash register receipts and our boat's log book. There were no immigration officers on Helgoland who could have "checked us out" of the Schengen zone.

We spent much more time in marinas during the entire trip than we had expected. In part that was because there were sometimes not good places to anchor, but also there were the excellent marina facilities in so many places and there was the ease of sailing right in and tying up. Many of the bigger, more popular marinas have a young person in a dinghy who is designated as the "host" and who will direct arriving boaters to a particular dock, and who will help with the docking and tie-up in difficult wind conditions.

We have talked about the challenges of nose-to-the-dock mooring with poles or buoys to the stern in previous blogs, but we added some aids that wound up being pretty necessary. We made a fender board out of a 2x10 about 6 feet long, and it was absolutely essential in the locks. In Germany we purchased a kit of two 2" ropes to make rub rails when tied to the slotted toe rail. (All boats should have rub rails!). We sprung for an absolutely amazing device called "Hook N Moor", a fiberglass pole that extends to 9' and will pass a line through the eye of a mooring ball. Its mechanical sleight-of-hand is hard to believe; we wound up calling it "the machine". Because our bow pulpit is not open in the middle like all of the European boats, we usually moored stern-to and occasionally used our fender board as a passarelle.

All marinas we visited have washers and dryers as well as showers and toilets. Many marinas have a sauna in both the men's and women's shower facilities. In fact saunas become more universal the closer you get to Finland. Electricity is almost always included in the very reasonable moorage fees, although we did find a couple of marinas that had coin-operated electric meters. The one in Helgoland was particularly problematic: the machine was not emptied over the weekend, and as the coin box got too full, the rejected coins were spit out the coin return slot and right into the drink.

Weather forecasting in the Baltic is excellent, with some of the best coming from Norway's yr.no website and mobile app. ("Yr" means drizzle in Norwegian). Predictwind.com also provides great wind, wave and rain forecasts. It isn't always possible to get a cell signal, but it's amazingly available in most places. (The subject of cell phones, sim cards and mobile hot spots could take an entire blog post or more, and we devoted more time than was reasonable to making sure we had good connectivity. That was a safety matter, but we were also fairly interested in what was going on back home - from politics to hurricanes and wildfires.)

Well, that about wraps up the blog for 2017. We plan to return to Europe next May to continue the adventure. We'll keep the same notification list going, but do let us know if you'd like to be taken off, or if you have friends who'd like to be put on the list. Best wishes to all!

Click here for more photos of our time in Suffolk Yacht Harbour, Felixstowe and Ipswich.


Above: View of the River Orwell from the plains above Suffolk Yacht Harbour.

The North Sea Again

25 August 2017 | Suffolk Yacht Harbour
Barbara & Craig/Sunny & warm
We finished our last blog post in Göteborg, the first big city we had seen in weeks. We connected up with the local Raymarine service center, and they very gamely honored our warranty on some expensive electronic instrumentation (Yay!) Quite a bit of our time in Göteborg was spent on that repair issue, but we also had a chance to explore the city a bit and spend time with Henrik, Tina and their two kids. So nice to have local friends when you're visiting a new city. The family is newly returned from 7 years in Saudi Arabia, and becoming reacquainted with the summer temperatures in a moderate northern climate. (I'm sure winter will be the real challenge for them).


Above: The Olsson family.

In the GKSS Marina we watched the local sailing life with amusement. There was a class of 6 year olds every day, being indoctrinated in water safety, group marching and the Swedish style of boating. Teens were very fond of going swimming off the swim platform late at night, long after sunset. I know it's summer, but that looked mighty cold to me (Craig says the surface temperature may have gotten up to 68ºF!).


Above: The GKSS water safety class for six year olds

Below: Teens swimming in the ocean after dark


We got laundry done in a space with the best view of any laundry room I've ever encountered. We got the refrigerator loaded up and awaited the arrival of our friend, Peter Mitchell, who had offered to help us with the passage to England. We had met Peter in Florida when we unloaded Sequoia off the Merwedegracht this past March. Peter was there helping his brother, Bob with Bob's sailboat which was also aboard the Merwedegracht.

Three big and related questions were very much on our minds: What did the weather hold for the passage to England? Would we be able to get out of the Schengen zone by our drop-dead date of August 21? What was the best route from Göteborg to England? The Schengen question probably requires the most explanation. All the nations of the EU plus a few more, but not including the UK and Ireland entered into a treaty establishing the "Schengen zone". Most non-EU citizens (including Americans) are restricted to 90 days in the Schengen zone. If you overstay your 90 days, it's not clear what the penalty is. It apparently depends upon the country and the mood of the immigration official you're dealing with. But penalties could include a ban on re-entering the Schengen zone for as much as 10 years. So we were strongly motivated to get out by the August 21 deadline. The question of course is what if awful weather prevents you from leaving? Hence our concern with weather and routing.

We considered going around the top of Denmark. We also considered going through the Limfjord which cuts across Denmark using a slow winding route. The route we finally chose was to go south, past Denmark, into Germany, and through the Kiel Canal. Having Denmark and then Germany between us and the North Sea allowed us to avoid (or at least postpone) some very windy conditions. Then we would have an opportunity to wait out any bad weather at the western end of the Kiel Canal.

Peter arrived, and we immediately cast off and headed south for a 24 hour passage. We had lovely weather with light to moderate winds, passed three different beautiful historic tall ships under full sail, and marveled at some of Denmark's beautifully engineered bridges between its islands. We stayed overnight at Nyborg and the next day continued to Holtenau at the east end of the Kiel Canal.





The next day we motored the length of the Kiel Canal to Brunsbuttel, where we had first met Cori & Jens at the beginning of the summer. There was a real traffic jam at Brunsbuttel. (Everyone poised to finish their summer cruise?) It became obvious that we would have to raft onto other boats in what was really a fairly small space. After initially rafting to a large power boat, a space on the dock became available, so we moved over. Not long after that we had three other boats rafted onto us. We took the opportunity to have a restaurant dinner at a Croatian restaurant which sounded interesting. It turned out the maître d' was Pakistani, and quite a charming fellow. Craig wanted to order a hot spicy dish, and the maître d' warned him against the particular one he selected. Turns out the maître d' was right.

The weather reports indicated some strong winds were coming in a day or two. Our choices were to wait at Brunsbuttel (a mob scene), to continue out the Elbe River to Cuxhaven (an unknown quantity), or to go 16 miles out into the "Bight of Germany" to Helgoland and be prepared to wait there. We chose to go out the Brunsbuttel lock and down the Elbe to Cuxhaven. The current flowing out of the Elbe River gave us a strong boost, and it looked like the winds would hold off for hours, so we updated our plan and decided to continue on to Helgoland, a tiny island 16 nm out into the North Sea.



What a different sort of place! It turns out we spent three days there, departing on the last possible day to meet the Schengen rules. In the interim there were some very strong winds and exciting looking seas outside the entrance.

Helgoland is well-known among the Germans as a duty-free zone. Everyday small cruise ships disgorge hordes of German tourists onto the island. Many come equipped with roller-bags which they pack full of liquor. The island has belonged to Denmark, England and Germany in recent history. After World War II, the Brits had the island and used it as a bombing range. Great parts of the island were obliterated, and when it was finally handed back to Germany in 1952, rebuilding had to start from scratch. The island is covered with pre-fab houses and hotels painted bright colors. There were offices selling condos, although I cannot for the life of me imagine why anyone would want to live there. The only vehicles seem to be electric, and bicycles are prohibited (!!!?) The winds are so strong that only the hardiest plants can grow there. There are lots of duty-free shops, but also curio, souvenir shops, restaurants, bakeries, jewelery stores, coffee shops - all for the tourist, apparently. Once the little cruise ships leave in the afternoon, everything shuts down. There are some nice restaurants, and we did find one where we met some other boaters who were in the harbor with us.

The responsibility for the harbor is seemingly divided between the "sea refuge" people, the local sailing club, the "marina" and the SAR (Search and Rescue) folks. Then there was some entirely separate organization that ran the toilets and showers. They charged 1 euro for using the toilet, or 2 euros if you also want to wash your hands. What kind of public health policy does that encourage?


Above: The "sea refuge" section of the Helgoland harbor. Sequoia is tied to the dock at left, front row.

We were tied up to the dock in the "sea refuge" section. It was designed to have rows of boats rafted to each other. We were first tied to a sailboat called the Helgoland Express which was owned and operated by a fellow who runs a sailing school based on the run between Germany and Helgoland. Two other boats were rafted outside us. The Helgoland Express left the day after we got there, and we maneuvered our way directly onto the dock. Soon after there were three boats rafted onto us. Apparently there are times when up to 12 boats are rafted together. There are 7 or 8 spots on the dock where lines of rafted-together boats anchor their rafts. The lines of boats have a hard time staying straight, so the 12th one ties onto a buoy that's out there in the marina just for that purpose. Even so, in the kinds of wind we were having, it seems like it would be very hard on a boat to have 11 other boats pressing against it. I'm sure lots of fenders are being popped when there are that many boats.

On August 20, the winds were very strong (we saw up to 39 knots on the anemometer), but some easing was predicted for the next day. We planned to leave regardless, having in mind our Schengen zone deadline. It turned out that most of the harbor emptied out on the 21st, most heading back toward Germany (having stoked up on cases of wine, liquor and beer). We headed west toward England. I was edging toward seasickness in the big seas, and Craig and Peter very kindly took over most of my duties. Fortunately the seas moderated, and by the next morning, things were much easier (and my incipient seasickness gone).

The North Sea is relatively shallow, and is full of wind farms, oil platforms and lots of ships. We stayed out of the traffic lanes, but had a lot of work dodging fishing boats, wind farms, and the various other obstacles that were out there. I was glad to have prepared food for the passage ahead of time, so there was relatively little work needed to keep the crew well-nourished.

We had originally intended to sail to Portsmouth, and put the boat there for the winter. But while in the Göta canal, we had met an English boater who persuaded us that the East Anglia area would serve our winter storage needs just as well, and at a significantly lower cost and much shorter distance from Germany. So we were headed to Suffolk Yacht Harbour on the Orwell River near Ipswich. The passage was about 300nm, about 2 days, although we had to slow down significantly so that we wouldn't arrive in the pre-dawn hours.

At the mouth of the Orwell River there is a huge container port, and the traffic control contacted us as we approached, directing us toward the path for yachts that had not been immediately obvious to us from the chart. Shortly thereafter two very large container ships exited the port, taking all available space in the deep traffic channel. We continued on to Suffolk Yacht Harbour, where we are now settled for the summer's end prep for having the boat hauled out and placed in a cradle for the winter. Our focus for the next week is cleanup, fixing some pernicious deck leaks, laundry, and making copious notes about what gear we are leaving, and what parts need to be brought back next year.

It feels good to be here, and yet we're sad that our summer's adventures are nearly over. We have logged nearly 4000nm in Sequoia and yet have not seen many of the places we once imagined that we would get to. We will share our broader impressions in the next blog.

Click here to see more photos of our sail from Göteborg to Suffolk Yacht Harbour.


Above: Sunset at Suffolk Yacht Harbour.
Vessel Name: Sequoia
Vessel Make/Model: Outbound 44
Hailing Port: Portland, Or
Crew: Craig & Barbara Johnston
About:
We are the proud owners of S/V Sequoia, Outbound 44 hull #5, built for us in Shanghai, China in 2001. [...]
Extra:
We care about the world and its people, and try to live responsible lives, mindful of ourselves, the places we travel to, and the people we meet. When we are away from home, we miss our sons and extended family, and try to get together as much as possible. And, dear reader, we look forward to [...]
Sequoia's Photos - Main
Putting Sequoia aboard the M/V Merwedegracht in Victoria, B.C.
3 Photos
Created 29 March 2017
Photos of our preparations to have Sequoia shipped by freighter from Victoria to Europe.
6 Photos
Created 13 March 2017