R2AK - Proving Ground. Port Townsend to Victoria.

Update from the Captain himself. Received via email at 8:22am Thursday June 16th.

I'm writing from Victoria BC where my crew and I are spending our last hours ashore for what will be about a week of sailing as we head up the outside of Vancouver Island to Ketchikan Alaska in this year’s Race to Alaska. We’ve removed the Diesel engine per this race's requirements and designed and fabricated a double recumbent peddle drive unit that drives the boat’s existing folding propeller. The boat is a Soveral 33 built in 1986 and one of the oldest boats in the race. Her mast is 47 feet tall and she weighs 6500 pounds. We have a water ballast system where we can pump 1000 pounds of seawater onto the windward side of the boat to make up for our lack of crew. These boats were made to be sailed with twice the crew that we have aboard. The good side of this is that there are only 8 stinking feet aboard. The start is at noon today and is a LeMond-style start where the racers run down the dock to their boats and paddle out of the harbor. Once clear of the channel, they hoist their sails and either turn right to go up the outside of the island or left to go up the inside. The boats going up the outside have had to go through a rigorous inspection process to be allowed to transit this exposed water where little assistance is available. We have participated in a few offshore races, so the boat was already equipped with more than the r2ak inspectors required. We have a tracker device onboard that will post our position to the tracker page with a slight delay, so people can check in on where the boats are. I will add that these divices are fallible and it isn’t unheard of for them to run out of batteries. So if you see a boat's beacon disappear, don’t be too alarmed. We have an EPIRB which is a much more reliable beacon linked directly with the Coast Guard and rescue service. We also have a 6-person life raft and some other expensive safety stuff. 

Having had a wonderful shake-down sail on the way over from Port Townsend, we were able to fix the final elements of our water ballast system. While in Victoria, we’ve had beautiful weather and the good fortune of getting a plotter and anemometer installed, thanks to our friends at Anchor Marine Electrical. 

We are all feeling good about the boat and the team and the forecast. Everyone has been asking if we plan to go on the outside and the answer I can finally say after looking at the most recent forecast is yes. The big water suits us better and the captain will sleep better knowing the rocks are far away. This race is such a mix of boats and types of people and it’s been great sharing the docks with everyone these past days. We wish the best of luck to everyone and hope we have no more instances like what we saw on the first leg. As skippers and racing crews, we have to sail our boats as though we were the only ones on the water. We have to sail our own boat to the best of its ability and perhaps most importantly we have to be aware of the limitations of our boats and crew and sail accordingly. Personally, I think one of the more rewarding things about remote sailing is the feeling of satisfaction one gets from this sort of independence. You can feel isolated in the best way while also feeling a sense of camaraderie that you seldom get in this modern world.

Riding the Ebb tide from Port Townsend before the wind picked up shortly after and we tacked to starboard and hoisted the little jib and sketed the rough water before tacking back to port and making it al the way to vic on one tack. Credit: R2AK photographer Jim Meyers @vertizonphoto

Our last-minute crew replacement a veteran of the race and the youngest to compete it Odin Smith will be an asset aboard. 

PT on the pumpout after the marina filled with twice as many boats as the previous year they ran the race.

Our arrival to Victoria from Port Townsend in the gale-force winds that day

R2AK - Updates Start Now!

Greetings race fans! Team Elsewhere social media intern Har Rai Khalsa here. The social media intern position was created for me after COVID sidelined me from being on the boat at the last second—which is a bummer, but now I get to be your connection to the guys and maybe get some school credit in the process if I don’t break anything around here.

I’ll compile a daily update with the info that I have received directly from the team via sat phone, as well as what I can gather from the race tracker and general weather. The tracker is available here: R2AK 2022.

As a general reminder, the team is racing in a remote area with very limited connection to the outside world. There will be times when the race tracker appears offline or when we don’t get timely updates from the boat because they have better things to do. But worry not, that’s normal. They’re well prepared—both in their abilities and their safety equipment. Should they need assistance, the people who need to know will know before we do. They’ve got this.

So let’s get to the racing!

Fisher 38 from Portland to Seattle (how often should you check the oil?) Words to come

Searay 42 Anacortes to Westport

I was first contacted by the new owner of a brokerage on Oregon to bring this boat down to Portland to be listed there. When I asked for recent survey I was given something from 2019. Truth is a lot can happen to a boat in two years.. In lieu of a recent survey I said I would go inspect the boat prior to agreeing to deliver it.

The murky backwater I first found the boat.

The rotting ribs of a broken relic from another time.

When I got to the boat for this inspection its was up a tiny shallow river called The Samish. The brown muddy water that floated this buff horse was barely as wide as the boat in question was long and nestled in with other apparently mothballed yachts.

“The bow thruster doesn’t work” the former owner said. Immediately i saw that it wasn’t the lack of bowthrust-ability that would be the problem but the fact that the water it was floating on was not marked and beyond any lateral navigational aids. Random pilings stuck up out of the Samish river’s slow moving muddy water, apparently complete with the universal signs for shallow or (relatively) deepwater ie spray painted thumbs up or thumbs down signs. This was not good news and my heart sank at the thought of having to tell the guy I couldn’t move the boat from where it was.

Memories of muddy banks like these from my youth on the Multnomah channel bubbled up in my nostalgic minds eye and made me smile. You can take the River Rat out of the river but you cant take the river out of the Rat.

“How do you get out of here,” I asked

“I haven’t taken the boat out recently,” said the prior owner. “it needs to be a 7-foot tide and you are fine”

After saying this he admitted he gave himself a 90% chance of getting it out of there and as it wasn’t his boat anymore he didn’t want to take the risk.

“How long have you lived here? “ I asked

“My whole life”..he responded “I learned how to sail out there” pointing as he did to the muddy delta

Going on he shared a few stories of drunkenly sailing in and out after dark running aground many times laughing about it.

I had seen what I needed to..or so I thought. I told the owner I wouldn’t move the boat from where it was but if he got it to Anacortes I could do it. Then I asked how the Ocean Alexander was coming along and that maybe could use the coming window to move it from Gig Harbor to Portland. (see previous log entry)

Two weeks later and he sold the boat and the new owner contacts me saying that the running light and the fogged windows had been addressed and the boat was ready to go in Anacortes. I saw a window coming up and called a recent student who hired me the weekend before to teach her some boat handling skills she would need as a yacht steward and said I had a learning opportunity and an adventure to share.

no sauce in the starboard V drive

I arrived at the boat the afternoon before our departure date to go over some things and found that the fluids were low everywhere. The V drives transmissions and oil needed to be topped or filled and I had 45 minutes before the stores closed before the weekend. First I went to West Marine and they didn’t have the oil so I went to North Harbor Marine and big pro service yard in A town and they set me up.

enough wingnuts to give a surveyor a conniption

After topping the fluids that night I thought I would test the electronics and found that the batteries were dead. Upon closer inspection I found that a switch with a sticker on it that said “turn off when engine running” was off. This I surmised was the battery charger breaker switch. I flipped it and went to the Brown Lantern to get some long overdue dinner and the last beer for a bit. The next morning the engine batteries were still dead. The bank that had charged was the “inverter bank” this is what you would call a house bank. What was labeled house bank was nested with the starting batteries was what was dead. These batteries were AGM gel batteries and hooked up the “smart” charger. Well, this charger like many other modern chargers isn’t smart enough to charge a fully discharged battery. It needs to see some voltage before it will turn on so using some automotive jumper cables I jumped from the “inverter” bank that was now fully charged and lead-acid type and the smart charger lit up and started charging at 30 amps.

It’s 9 am and we are supposed to be underway to make it to Neah Bay safely before dark. It’s looking like it’s going to be noon before we can get going.

Underway

Two 3208 caterpillar engines pumping out 375 seahorses of trustpower, stinky smoke, and NOISE. At 2400 RPM it must have been 80 decibels and unless that is 80 decibels of Motorhead I’m spending my irreplaceable hearing on I’m wearing ear protection. (and cranking some Motorhead at the same time) my Bose noise-canceling headphones have been a game-changer. I have a pair of shooters noise-canceling earmuffs that I have used with earbuds which are good but the Bose are sweet and will connect to your phone via bluetooth so you can call your shipmate who is on the bow and share information like distances, traffic, encouragement, and instructions.

Noon thirty and we were underway and making 15 knots. We had a heavy dinghy on the back which I knew would slow us down and on top of that, the bottom still had river slime on it so we weren’t going to be hitting the 20 knots these monsters were supposed to be able to make.

The forecast and our late departure meant that we were going to hit some turbulence in the afternoon. I was thinking that it may be a good thing to see what the boat could do before bombing the Washington Coast. If we were going to stir up some tank goo into our filters it would be better in the straight with more options to bail. It was right when we hit some chop and I was regaling my crew and my captive audience about the Swiftsure Regatta and my experiences in the bay off our beam that the port engine died.

I passed the helm over to my shipmate and dived into the engine room telling her to try and keep the bow into the waves. My first thought was that we had clogged a filter and I switched the valve on the parallel Racor filter. After a little time cranking it was apparent that it was going to take some more work to get it going and as it was the roughest bit of water we had been in yet it would be better to try and do any work in the relative shelter of Clallam Bay conveniently off or just forward of our beam and the subject of my recent yarn. I admit that the main thoughts in my mind at this time were what are we going to do if the port engine clogs a filter now and how many cranking amps do we have in these, so recently abused, batteries and can I jump them or should I switch them with the other bank and also how much of a wide berth I was gong to give the rocky point and our leeshore before I cut into the bay. Clamam Bay is small sportfishing town where many wife free weekend warriors flock to get a chance to catch a fish large enough to take a picture with. This is about all that is going on in the little “town” of Sekiu. The last time I went into the dock it was to get fuel in a 32-foot trimaran and even that ultralight boat had multiple people telling us we couldn’t tie up there. I knew it was going to be a problem but I didn’t want to risk anchoring as the windless was battery-powered and may draw the batteries down more. It’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission so I told my shipmate that I was going to be in the engine room and to be as sweet and charming as possible to whoever walked out to kick us off and to buy as much time as she could.

adventure number two

First I opened the top of the Rocor we had been running on before the engine died and I switched it to see how bad the fuel was. It was bad and more important it was half empty. Assuming the worse that it had sucked air through a seal after it clogged and introduced air into the system. After a little more cranking on the new filter, I decided to open it up and although nice and clean it was also half full. As many readers will know: air is bad in a diesel engine’s fuel line. It has to be removed by bleeding the line by opening an injector line and cranking the engine.

That’s when it hit me. Was the Port tank fuel gauge really broken? Did the owner really fill it up before we got to the boat as he said? Did that previous owner really dip the tank as he said? A moment later I was squeezing over the still quite warm Port engine to tap on the tank with a wrench. Empty.

At this point, it was looking like we needed to squeeze into the tiny fuel dock that was (thanks be to Neptune) still open and to do it on one engine. Now like anything there are tradeoffs in boat design. Boats with two engines are much more maneuverable than boats with only single engines but not all twin screws are created equal. The further that “wheels” props are apart the easier it is to maneuver in tight spaces that those with props closer to the centerline but they don’t track well when only one engine is available.

https://youtu.be/8hJ1HDcMowk

This was the case. On par with the maneuvering approach, I had to master when working as a Vessel Assist captain I turned the boat around and around as I was now not an “anbiturner” but unlike Zoolander I could only turn to Port. The trick to going straight with a boat like this is to get enough speed that both the rudders are working. Combined with the surge in the area and the tiny landing dock and the random piling to be woven through I was not happy about the situation the owner’s poor prep had put us in.

Now we see why the tank was empty. The fuel is not going into the tank at the speed it should and after an hour we had 37 gallons and enough to make it to Neah Bay. The vent is clogged no doubt and will require more time and boat yoga than we have daylight for dodging trees on the way to Neah Bay.

Another unfortunate aspect of this situation is that the delay and pit stop has confounded our ability to calculate the fuel economy (or lack thereof) I wanted to know before hopping to Astoria down the Washington Coast.

high tailing in to Neah before it gets to dark to see the trees floating by

The CAT 3208 proved to be a popular diesel engine for trucks through the early 1990s and boats through the late 1990s. Production ended by 1999 mostly due to the engine’s inability to meet global emissions standards established by clean air regulation at the time. The use of the engine was widespread and its performance was reliable. As a result, many vehicles equipped with the CAT 3208 remain in service long after production of the diesel engine ceased.

I can attest that at 2400 rpms two of these under your feet sounds like a diesel power jet airplane and reframes that brochure image in your mind with the bikinis and all as an experience far from relaxation. BUT I am a bit of a sailor snob so theres that. Thunder in paradise it will be.

Caterpillar also offered a marine version of the CAT 3208 diesel engine for yachts, leisure boats, and commercial trawlers. Larger vessels would be powered with twin-turbocharged diesel engines. The marine diesel engine version was modified with bigger heat exchangers, exhaust manifolds, turbochargers and seawater pumps to cool the engine oil. However, the engines were known as gas guzzlers, and consequently, they did not meet the criteria of internal combustion exhaust emissions regulation. Production of the marine CAT 3208 diesel engine ended in 1999 and outlasted production of the diesel engine version for heavy-duty trucks.

Between 15 and 17 knots we went Kate and me with our noise-canceling headphones

My co pilot Kate. Soon to be Captain Kate to you

We came into Neah Bay just as we were losing visibility and it was pitch black by the time we were approaching the dock. Not something I wanted to be doing. Even a harbor as familiar as Neah Bay is to me, risk increases exponentially once you lose visibility. There are two sides to the page. One side is risk or con (broken) and the other side is assets or pros. Things that may seem totally unrelated but the fact that they are on the con side of the page can have a huge effect on each other listed item of concern. It is a captain’s job to assess and reassess these risks constantly. We were going to have to have a serious conversation with the owner in the morning. We found. a spot with power to tie up which was key to a hot dinner as the generator wasn’t working and the inverter bank was not functioning right after finding a short where an outlet was missing on the aft deck.

Unfortunately one of my favorite breakfast places. The Warm House” had not survived the pandemic but a small homely galley was kicking out breakfast burritos and coffee in the Harbormasters office. We paid our night moorage and back at the boat I crawled in a pooka where the fuel vent hose lived and cut the hose off the barbed fitting to clear it out with a piece of wire I stripped from the spares box. After it was cleared we moved to the fuel dock and top off for the trip south. After so much delay fighting the poorly prepared boat, our weather window closed and did not allow us to get the boat further south than Westport.

Some boats are more ready to go than others.

always want to rinse off that saltwater after splashing around in it!

A well deserved brew for the crew

Advanced Coastal Cruising class aboard a Dufour 530

I’m just returning from a wonderful and sporty, private Advanced Coastal Cruising class aboard a beautiful brand-new Dufour 530. This weekend brought gale-force winds and a wonderful opportunity to see what the boat and crew could do. This class is the fifth in American Sailing Association’s instructional series and covers what a sailor needs to know to make coastal passages in exposed waters where retreat to the protection of shelter is often not possible when the weather deteriorates. The forecast called for winds from the south exceeding 20 knots in the San Juan Islands into the Canadian waters north over a 72-hour period. The forecast on the Pacific Ocean and the adjoining water of the Strait of Juan De Fuca was the same but combined with seas exceeding 10 feet. When the owner reached out originally he told me that he was planning on sailing the boat to Mexico where he and his partner planned to winter aboard. He went on to say that he and his crew wanted to get some ocean experience and to learn about heavy-weather sailing. After looking at the forecast together we decided to head West to the ocean instead of north to the Strait of Georgia. This decision was based on the reluctance to have to sail back south at the end of the weekend into the 20-plus knot winds and choppy seas that wind over current produces. Instead, our decision to head west allowed us to head out into the ocean and strong winds on a more forgiving point of sail while leaving the option to quickly return to the lee and protection of Cape Flattery.

(The concept of apparent wind is an important subject in the material. In short, it is a fact that sailing into the wind adds the speed of the boat to the “true wind” speed. So, for example, a 50-foot boat sailing 8 knots into 30 knots produced the effect of 38 knots on the sails. This paired with the fact that wind-force grows exponentially while adding to the discomfort of sailing into the waves that are created by the wind makes the decision to pick a heading where the wind is on the side of the boat or “beam” and easy one. )

Whats wrong with this picture?

Prepared!

Our departure from Friday Harbor where the crew picked me up was slowed slightly by the strong flood at Cattle Pass and our entrance into the waters on the East end of the Straits of Juan De Fuca. Once in the Straits, there was enough wind from the Southwest to shake out the crisp folds of the French boat’s band new sails and to begin to find the optimal sail settings before dark. After a tack off Ediz Hook and Port Angeles, I threw the “Man/woman/cat overboard” pole in the water and each sailor did several figure-of-eight drills as a review of the manoeuver and as a test of the boat’s maneuverability. I was happily surprised at the 53-foot long 15-foot wide boat’s maneuverability and ease of sail-handling. After that, the dinner of spring asparagus and pasta began but was interrupted by the cook getting seasick. I dived into the galley and finished what would be four servings of a wonderful dinner, unfortunately only two got to enjoy it. The crew, mostly made up of R2AK veterans and old friends, had forgotten to bring sea sickness medication. As an instructor and captain, I am not legally allowed to require crew or students to take medication so as uncomfortable as these experiences are they are valuable lessons about the dangers of seasickness and the necessity of bolstering your system until you get acclimatized to the motion. With fifty miles to go and as the wind tapered we decided to turn on the engine and motor sail. This would allow us to time our arrival to the ocean at sunrise. At this time I went down below for a three-hour nap before my 12 to 3 am shift. I came on deck and took the watch alone deciding to let the sick cook rest. At the end of my watch, my standing orders were to vary the speed to arrive at Cape Flattery at dawn. While I was off-watch, the wind increased from the South, and the engine was turned off. Unfortunately, too much sail was up, and when I came on deck at 6 am we were leaving the strait and entering the ocean in the dark. Which is what I had planned to avoid. We put in two reefs and rolled the jib in two feet and continued West into the dark ocean. We went out for an hour- and- a half until there was enough light to see the waves and turn around. At this point, we were surrounded by ships entering the strait and with less maneuverability than I like to have due to being overpowered. We then planned to head into Neah Bay 10 miles from Cape Flattery and get some rest and recuperate. At this point, everyone but myself was sick and eager to get back into sheltered waters. Just outside of the bay and out of the swell and chop we saw a gust of 41 knots on the wind gauge. At that point, we only had the double-reefed main and the engine on. Thirty minutes later we were tied up to a very inhospitable dock with broken cleats and rusty bolts protruding from the whaler boards. The bright white hull of the new sailboat was in stark contrast to the rusting hulks of the dying native fishing fleet. The only real cause for alarm was one of the crew falling after jumping to the dock as we landed in a 25-knot gust. The freeboard of this boat was about four and a half feet making those fender-step things a real necessity. Everyone’s spirits were very high as we all went to sleep for a three-hour nap. After a nap, we had an amazing omelet breakfast with dill, chives, smoked salmon, and chevre. 

Type 2 fun

After discussing the experience and the concepts of apparent wind and the development of bailout plans we looked at the forecast ahead. At this point, the wind was dying but the next wave of weather was going to be hitting the San Jauns just when we would be returning, so we created a plan based on what we had learned about the boat’s sailing characteristics and the wind. Our trip back was mostly uneventful and the only challenge was maneuvering around the commercial traffic in the Victoria area. Instead of returning the way we came through Cattle Pass, we chose a more conservative route over the top of San Juan Island. After enjoying some fun sailing in the flat protected waters of the islands we anchored in Parks Bay for a three-hour nap followed by another take on the now-famous omelet. We did some talk about emergency procedures and after we discussed the route the boat and owner would take back to Anacortes they dropped me off in Friday Harbor. 

Some lessons can be learned through reading and study but some lessons require getting your feet wet. Hopefully, when tackling dreams as big as this we can do the due diligence necessary to be prepared for the new scary world of big water sailing and hopefully, we can take the time to organize shakedown sails like this one where we can practice before we put ourselves and boats into situations that we can not retreat from. This was a hugely valuable experience because we learned about what the boat likes and doesn’t like, what modifications need to be made before the big trip south, and most importantly where everyone’s comfort and resilience levels are. Getting seasick sucks and I would say that in weather like we were in not taking medication is not an option. There are no passengers on a boat like this. Everyone aboard represents a liability to one degree and they need to work to counter to whatever degree they are a liability with their different respective abilities to help. Coastal cruising and blue water cruising can all be done without sailing in “bad weather” but extreme patience that we moderns are not practiced in is necessary to avoid putting the boat and crew into the rough stuff. Unfortunately, the harsh realities of work schedules and life tempt us into these inclement weather situations and we have to be prepared to deal with them.

“There are no passengers on a boat like this. Everyone aboard represents a liability to one degree and they need to work to counter to whatever degree they are a liability with their different respective abilities to help.”

Parks Bay for a nap before heading into Friday Harbor

All smiles and appetites back.

Ocean Alexander 40 Gig Harbor to Portland

Diesels love their oil like a sailor loves his rum..

I got a call from a customer who I’ve delivered two boats for in the past. Repeat customers are quite rare in this business, at least in the NW, not so much on the East Coast. This customer had just bought a brokerage in Portland and was looking to get some more inventory on the docks. The first boat he wanted moved was a 42 foot Express Cruiser moored 30 min drive North of Anacortes and as it didn’t have a recent survey prior to its purchase I said I would have to go look at it before I would agree to move it south. Im glad I did as I found it so far up the Samish River where there were no soundings on the charts for the area. The former owner said that he could probably get the boat out on a high tide but as it wasn’t his anymore he wouldn’t risk it. This was concerning as it was coming from a mariner that grew up on the body of water. I told the new owner I would deliver the boat if he got a local to get the boat to Anacortes. Also the running lights didn’t work and the plexiglass windows were too fogged to safety navigate though. I then asked if there was another boat ready to be moved south.

Also bought without a survey was an Ocean Alexander 40 in Gig Harbor. I said I would have to look at it first and drove down to meet the former owner who was unsure about the boat’s ability to do the passage. Saying that when he first bought the boat the engine made funny/not funny sounds that scared him and motivated him to have the boat trucked instead of moved on its own bottom.

The boat was a well maintained tri-cabin of a good pedigree with many electronic upgrades. I was told that there were $30,000 of upgrades aboard. The previous owner was less than enthused by the Raymarine Axiom series plotters he installed and the poor customer support that he encountered when the transducer didn’t match up forcing to buy a second display rather than hauling out to install a new ducer.

Everything looked doable but as it was a single screw boat and I planned to exercise extra caution.

I noted that the oil was low and that the strobe light that was meant to meet the requirement for flares was out of batteries. I’m not a fan of these. There are lots of flashing lights out on the water at night and its not something that attracts the attention you want when you need help.

I went to Fisheries Supply in Seattle and bought filters, oil, and flares. Then contacted a gentleman who had expressed an interest in joining me on a delivery at some point because he was getting his captain’s license and planned to become a delivery captain.

John met me at 6 am in Shilshol and we drove to Gig Harbor where after filling up the oil we got on the water to head to Port Townsend for fuel.

The fog was not too thick but enough to slow us down.

Fun fact: Did you know that with the advent of radar boating collisions and allusions* have gone up? Now you do. It seems to me that there is an imprudent reliance on tech in the marine world and a converse decline in situational awareness. I think tech is good and should be utilized but it should serve as an addition to the eyes and seats of the pants.

Radar overlay before being calibrated,

Fortunately, John has a tech background and quickly calibrated the radar overlay on the plotter.

The fog lifted as we passed Seattle but not much later we were pulled over by the Coast Guard while I was taking a nap.

We welcomed the kids onboard and prepared to present the required equipment. Unfortunately, this and the fog meant we would arrive in Port Townend after the fuel dock closed at 4.

The next day we were on the fuel dock before the attendant arrived. A nice fellow named Eric who fit the description of the laidback NW nautical townsperson. Eric offered his card saying that in the future he would make himself available to help us out after hours.

I always ask for these but after a lawsuit they are no longer making them. It attaches to the fuel tank vent to catch the splutter when filling. #giveahoot

The view from the Bar at Sirens.

I had been watching the forecast closely and knew that we were in for a bumpy ride in the straits as a strong westerly was forecast for the waters north of Port Angeles just as we would be passing through due to our later departure. I had hoped to make it to Neah Bay by sunset but this would not be the case.

The morning’s delay found us feeling out where the strongest ebb was north of Discovery Bay and south of the inbound shipping lanes.

The morning’s delay found us feeling out where the strongest ebb was North of Discovery Bay and just South of the inbound shipping lanes. The sun was out and the water flat and we wondered if the forecast was wrong and if we would be able to sneak through with our feathers and breakfast undisturbed. Nope

Popping wheelies in the Strait of Juan De Pukea

Not only did it pick up quickly, but once in the washing machine, I didn’t dare make the coarse adjustment necessary to get into the flatter water to the south in the back eddy. There was only one way and that was through. At some point, after asking if this is what ten-footers looked like, my shipmate asked to lie down as the Scopolamine patch wasn’t doing enough to mitigate the queez.

I put on some appropriate tunes and rode it out throttling up and down to maintain steerage without going too fast. I regretted my greediness riding the ebb longer than I should have. Noted. It was looking like we wouldn’t make it to Neah Bay and Clallam Bay would have to do for the night.

As the sun went down we set the anchor and the anchor alarms on the plotter and my phone.

As the sun went down we set the anchor and the anchor alarms on the plotter and my phone.

The sun rose and we were underway having added some oil. I was a little concerned about how much oil the old Perkins was burning.

Now for the jump. I had called my friend who was a Crabber in the area and asked about where to expect the pots and the floats that would be such a threat to our single prop and source of power. Out passed 40 fathoms for the commercial nonnative and inside of that for the native gear. AKA pots everywhere but way outside.

We cut through Hole In The Wall and headed for deep water. There were still pots over 300 feet and 15 miles offshore. further south the water got deeper and we stopped seeing the gear.

The next day as the sun came up we came in from the deep water and could see the floats all around and in the channel to the Columbia River. Even up river 4 miles from the bar there were floats in the channel.

Now it wasn’t the pots we had to dodge it was the trees.

Across the bar and heading up river

Slowly we made it upriver to Kalama before the sunset. We made our way up to the McMenamins for dinner and a beer. I recommend the “Rubyhead” which is a mix of Hammerhead and the Ruby and John doesn’t recommend the BBQ chicken pizza. Chinook salmon season opened a few days earlier and the charter boats swarmed the river the rest of the way to Hayden Island. We hugged the shore to find currant relief and to avoid pushing the engine. The engine was burning way too much oil and after finding a leak in a loose fuel line the old hose concerned me. We weren’t to the marina before another scare was had. 2 feet of water right at the entrance meant we had to approach the entrance in a counterintuitive way.

The boat was barely tied up before the old boat brokers were climbing board and poking around their new listing happy to have another slip full.

Winter Shaw 2022

Thanks for the Editing Joe

Outstanding crew work from my fellows. Hugely humbled to have this caliber of sailors aboard. 

Big shout out to El Barto (pictured) - Mast

Mike Powell - Drums

Tom Andrews - Tactics

Scott Galbraith - Bongos

Paul Andersson - Snackticks

Nick Andrews - Bow (pointy end)

Me - Cowbell and Didgeridont

Capt Rhys Balmer

https://48north.com/

Luhrs 36 Anacortes WA to Eureka Ca

On the 10th of October, I woke up in the worst hotel I’ve ever stayed in. Turns out that staying in a hotel rated 2.5 stars is like spending the night at a crime scene. Signs that the bathroom door had been kicked in at one point and repaired poorly at that, along with more than one person working on their car in the parking lot came as a stark contrast to the room I stayed in Hawaii on the 14th-floor complete with remote controlled blinds and a view of the marina. Maybe having contrast in your life is good.

I made it home for a few days between the Dragonfly delivery to SF to do the Benson Cup on my boat “Elsewhere” and had grabbed some stuff before the Baba 35 delivery but there wasn’t time after that to go home before heading off to PA to get on the Luhrs so I wasn’t as prepared as I like to be. Different deliveries require different prep. I caught a ride to Tacoma with the owners of the Baba and got the aforementioned room where I planned to wait for my crew coming up from the Gorge on the next day. For once I had a little time to kill so I caught a bus to the Goodwill where I found some mugs and a pot to cook with as the boat just sold and didn’t have any cookware. I also got a sweatshirt and shorts and a few DVDs. After that, I caught another bus into town and watched a French film I had been wanting to see at an art-house theater. I have to admit Tacoma’s old town has some charm. My crew arrived and we drove to Sequim where I got us a room. More like those seen in episodes of Xflies than Breaking Bad.

Something for everyone in Westport.

The next day we drove to PA where the Luhrs had been since the Canadian delivery crew brought it over a few weeks before. The boat was out of place in these waters, designed for southern climes and much more suited to a place like Florida with its open cockpit and exposed flybridge. Its three outriggers too did not make sense in the protected waters where downriggers helped catch salmon rather than pelagic fish like tuna and marlin. The only thing that was missing on this strange boat was one of those fighting chairs with the spot for the rods but to go between your legs. 

Pick a spot anywhere in Westport.

The fuel dock attendant mentioned this too but with more colorful language. Fuel dock attendants don’t have to mince their words. We put in 240 gallons in the single 400-gallon tank and were on our way. The boat had been repowered not long before the sale and the engines only had 750 hours. The engines were 500 horsepower Cummins turbo diesels and should be capable of pushing the boat at 30 knots. Far faster than most seas would allow and fuel tanks could supply for long.

The plan was to take it easy until we knew what the burn rate was and could figure the boat’s range. Westport fuel dock was going to be closed when we got there so we would have to fuel first thing and head to Newport the next day. We ran the engines at 1700 and the flow meters said we were burning 21 gph which worked out to a little over a gallon a mile. This was the most conservative rpm and should produce the furthest range 

If you are going to be late and need after hour fuel up the attendant will come down after hours for $75.

In Newport, we arrived just before they closed at 16:00 and the ride was rough. While we were fueling we chatted with the attendant about wishing there was more than Rogue Brewery to eat at on this side of the bridge he told us that his daughter used to work there but now managed a much better place called The Barge in Old Town and would drive us in and buy us the first round. He was a retired fisherman who had “delivered some boats in his time”. We would have been very glad for just the ride over the bridge but a free beer and exchange in sea stories was even better.

Above the door of The Barge reads in bright yellow western font “Home of the Wino’s, Dingbat’s & Riff Raff”. What the grilled cheese sandwich I had for dinner lacked, the service and company more than made up for. Rouge Brewery is great, don’t get me wrong, but the patina isn’t quite there like these ocean-side roadhouse dives have that I love. Not to mention the local knowledge that is invaluable to a mariner in a foreign port is less likely to be found at tourist places.

Once underway the next day we got a surprise. The integrated electronic system in the boat produced an alarm saying we had water in the fuel. Water in fuel is more common than most think and I have a few misadventures I’ve written about on here that go into detail but that’s why we have water separators. Often call Racors because of the popular brand these units separate the water from the fuel while filtering a specified size of particles. These filters have a clear bowl at the bottom where you can see the water if it’s in the fuel. Sometimes these bowls have terminals where an alarm can be wired and when there is water in the bowl it completes the circuit and sends the alarm. That’s not the kind of sensor these engines had. I honestly still don’t know where that sensor is but I did shut the engine in question down and jump into the engine room once I saw the alarm. Different boats have different access to their working parts. If you’ve read any of my other posts you’ve heard me complain about this before. It’s mostly on sailboats designed by Bob Perry so I was surprised to see how poorly this boat’s fuel filter system was designed. In order to see if there was water in the fuel, I had to put my camera phone on video and record a short clip as I held it at almost arm’s length down into the bilge of the boat. I couldn’t see much in this out-of-focus clip so I decided to take a sample of the fuel in the bottom of the bowl. With both hands and a yogurt container set to catch the fuel and possible water below the drain valve, I pulled up the sample and found only a little gunk and nothing to indicate a concerning amount of water in the fuel. The only concern was how hard it was to get the plastic valve open. I could imagine how breaking this would have been hard if impossible for us to fix.

I was actually concerned about the water that was setting off the alarm while we were in a precarious place on the Oregon Coast. Going in anywhere for anything was going to kill the precious little time we had with our weather window. I discussed the risks with my crew and we decided to stay the course. This is important to note because electric alarms are a relatively new part of the marine world. Everything from the annoying AIS alarms to the distressing accidental PLB activation. Even our VHF radios “cry wolf” whenever 20 minutes the USCG cadet must as quickly and inaudibly as possible transmit a “securitay” announcing to every boater in a 100 mile or more radius that an unmanned red kayak was reported adrift in the vicinity of bla bla. These warnings lower our guard just as we lower the volume on the radio. How we as prudent mariners remain attentive to the important information at hand while the din of the modern bridge is a tough question and challenge for today’s boater.

Just when things are sunny and going smoothly..

fuel sample

Other than some sea state that created what bordered on inhumane conditions on the bridge we made it in before the blow and after making friends with all the scallywags on the dock found a spot to tie up in the lee of a big fishing boat. Eureka has its share of patina but I think that with some basic security measures and friendliness to the marinas residents it is fairly safe. We gave our uneaten provision to one of these water folk.

The pretty color overlay here is the result of a poorly calibrated radar. Take your instruments with a grain of salt and be sure you know how to navigate without them.

The end of our weather window and the answering text when asked if we could bring it further south.

If you use Windy for weather on the coast be sure you use the wave prediction feature.

Tollycraft 37 Hermiston to Portland (Frozen decks and a loose rudder)

This cold delivery was one of the more remote-feeling jobs I have ever done.

Where is Hermiston you might ask. Upriver of almost every lock on the Columbia River. This little frozen town felt far from the ocean and the Puget Sound where it was supposed to end up in the new owner’s possession.

Briefly, the challenges and lessons learned were.

Fog on a narrow river where big barges work is more stressful than in other places.

Getting gas this time of year this far from anything is a challenge

Red dot heaters are more of a warmer than heater

Rudders can go backward if they loose the cotter pins holding their tillers together

Backfires on gas-powered beasts are scary

It doesn’t matter if everyone has the same rights on the water as far as the lock operators are concerned large commercial use of the locks gets priority.

Step two: Shovel the snow off boat.

Fog is stressful even with radar

A well loved local design

Call your mom

No pin to be found to hold the clevis pin in place.

Key ring jury rig

Truly impressive engineering these locks

This is bigger than it looks

Welcome stop at the floating Puffin Cafe

Schooner Creek Boatworks

Baba 35

There is a world renown boat designer that lives in the NW named Bob Perry. Mr Perry has designed all kinds of capable boats over the decades he has been drawing them. Some of the most charming of which are his boats that show a very strong influence by the Scandinavian designer Collin Archer. I have written about these Collin Archer designs and their influence before in the piece on the delivery of an Atkin Eric.

“Is that a Baba?” Came the question from a random runner on the path along the waterway we floating on waiting for the Fremont Bridge to open. “Yes, it is” the boat’s new proud owner responded. “Beautiful boat” came back from that landlocked dog walker. She was a beautiful boat. Her bright ultramarine hull, contrasting red canvas, and tastefully varnished sheer spoke of a land far away and long ago when hobbits plied the seas of yore. If her sturdy and graceful exterior didn’t beguile the passing commuters her interior would. Curves of every kind hewn out of tropical wood from the far side of the world wrap around plush cushions in a glossy warm and cozy saloon. 

Unfortunately, there is more to a boat than sweet lines and endangered timber. A boat, even a sailboat, has an engine and this one was on its last legs. Tucked away in such a way that you might have thought the boat was built around it lived a sad four-cylinder Yanmar engine (diesel for those with the dumb questions). Oil seeped from every old seal and the fact that the oil pressure alarm was not working and an aftermarket automotive oil pressure gauge was zip-tied to the top was not reassuring. I had been hired to bring the boat north 70 miles to a yard for the boat’s repowering and this would be the engine’s swan song. The owner who had asked to join me on the short delivery had a service company (Achievement Marine) service the engine before we committed to the passage. They had sent two techs down to check fluids and run the engine to be sure everything worked. The green light was given and I believe the words were “I’d run it up there no problem”. Upon my arrival, I guided the owner through the initial start-up inspection. Belt tension and oil checks were performed after the huge dog house covering the engine was hoisted up to the galley counter being that there was no access door designed for dipstick access. The oil level was fine and the only thing that concerned me was the stuffing box, infamously challenging to access on these Perry boats. On the Baba 30 the water pump is also very hard to access. One has to open the lazeratte (storage under the cockpit seats) and remove the lazeratte floor to crawl under the cockpit. This Baba 35 had an autopilot that the new owner had removed to allow any access at all to the back of the engine to Hobbit or man. 

Pro Tip. The bridges in Seattle are under federal regulation to not lift for marine traffic between 16 to 18:00

Through the bridges, locks, and out on the sound we began the 30 mile trip to Port Townsend. A first night passage for the new owner made for some fun quizzing him on the lights and to see if he could see the traffic without the AIS. We didn’t have a hard wired AIS aboard but did have one of the new ICOM handheld AIS radios and I was curious to see how it worked. Myself having finally bit the bullet last year on a handheld with GPS had been quite pissed to learn that the first AIS handheld would come out the year later and be around the same price.

The evening was very calm with only a few large commercial vessels to avoid. About 9 pm a brightly lit ferry was coming up behind us. Outside a shipping lane and any ferry route, its intentions were unclear until the tugboat pushing it came into view shining us with its spotlight. My green crew had thought that the locks would be the scariest part of the delivery. 

When we arrived in Port Townsend we tied up to the north side of a finger and jumped into our respective bunks at midnight. I set the alarm for 6 am when the wind was supposed to fill in. I’m not sure it was a good idea to wait to have some coffee and breakfast at the dock but as it turned out the boat’s new owner had just bought a 120 volt AC coffeemaker so not only did we need to turn on the inverter to make coffee we would have had a hard time not breaking the new percolator. (Pro tip: the only boat Mr. Coffee should be on the bridge of is a river dredge.)

35 knots and heeled with only a little jib rolled out.

By 7 am it was blowing 15 to 20 from the south in the marina and as we were on the north side of the slip we were being blown off the lines were straining. Untying the lines and simply stepping on would have found us scraping our way down the side of our neighbor to leeward. I passed my crew the bowline back through the big bronze hawsepipe in the bulwark and stepped on holding the bitter end of the stern line. I put the engine in reverse and pushed the throttle up to 2500 RPM. The boat pulled out of the slip as fast as a 13,000-pound boat could but the wind on the beam pushed the bow downwind by the time we were clear of the boat next door. Now our stern was facing the exit of the marina and our maneuvering practice on the lake had shown us that the boat did not steer straight backward. Once the bow was straight downwind I put it in forward and brought the revs back up to 2300 and hugging the left side of the marina I threw the helm over to spin us in what I knew would be a painfully wide button-hook knowing as well that any attempt to back and fill would allow the wind to catch the bowsprit and furled sail and force it downwind again. The boat made the turn and when I opened my eyes again the only other person in the marina that was checking his lines waved in a knowing way at our successful exit. 

Out into the fray

The forecast was calling for the wind to build from the south by southeast. We were leaving just before max ebb and were doing 10 knots over the ground as we passed through Admiralty Inlet and the tidal gates of the south Puget Sound. We set our course for the lee of Whidbey Island and a few hours later we shot by Deception Pass with six feet of jib rolled out. Even the little jib we had out we were heeling 15 degrees and things were beginning to settle down below.

We hugged the island and left Anderson Island to port and worked our way up the shore to Guemes Channel. When we arrived at the channel we got our first break from the high wind alarm on the B&G plotter. It had been alerting us that the wind was over 35 knots since we passed Admiralty. But pay the piper all sailors one day must and as we rounded into Fidalgo Bay our speed slowed to 2 knots as spray from the bow waves came over the dodger and down my back. 

Make it or beach it

The boat was being repowered by Pacific Marine and they don’t use a conventional travel lift to lift boats but rather a truck trailer-looking thing with articulated bunks that they drive down a big (not so big) boat ramp. My job was going to be to land the boat perfectly between the bunks with a 30-knot breeze on my stern quarter. I put the engine in neutral and saw that the transmission was very stiff. It had not been that way in the lake when we had been doing our maneuvering lessons. There were about 50 feet of dock space at the end of a long finger inhabited with 60 and 70-foot powerboats and I made the split decision to tie up instead of drive the boat onto the awaiting trailer. The 35-knot wind and chop going into the little fairway tried to slam the boat into the dock to leeward. The boat’s big fenders took the weight of the 13,000 point boat swishing down to a few inches of air between the dock and the boats rubbing strake. At this time a tall man walked out the heaving dock waves splashing up between the dock’s grating and behind the big boats swim steps. The shop’s manager asked us what the problem was to which I told him about the transmission and that I wanted to figure out what was wrong before I took the boat into a spot we couldn’t get out of. We checked the transmission fluid levels and found that there was no fluid and our friends at “Achievement” Marine had not checked all the fluids in the engine when they “serviced” it. The owner ran down the street to get some ATF and I impulsively checked the weather. It was noon and the wind was supposed to taper to 15 knots by one. After the fluid was back in the engine the transmission and tested I spoke to the manager asking if we should wait another half hour for things to mellow out. He pushed back saying that it was an easy landing and shouldn’t be any trouble. To which I asked if he wanted to do it. Backing away he told us he was a powerboater and would leave that to a sailor. I told him as someone who handles both that it was a very unmaneuverable boat and that if things went wrong we would likely damage the boat. He countered by saying that they needed to get it out to pressure wash the bottom so we said we didn’t need that done if it would buy 30 minutes. Then he’s said that was not the only issue and that his guys were only there until 2.

We waited 15 minutes and went for it. 

The wind had died by almost half since we landed and it went fine but the whole exchange represented another example of how sometimes you have to dig your heels in with service personal. It is always a good idea to check after someone says they have done something like top fluids or otherwise. 

Dragonfly 32 Anacortes WA to San Fran CA

Dragonfly 32

No sneaking in anywhere in this thing. We were the center of attention in Sekiu and quickly told we could not stay on this dock for long. As we couldn’t fit into the fuel dock we had to carry jerry cans to and from the pump.

High fives and good vibes abound but the crew needs fuel too. #roguebrewery

The trip began in Anacortes at 5:30 AM when our friend Jeff Hulme knocked on the hull. Our morning wake-up came baring doughnuts and coffee! We had planned to do the passage with Alan who was the owner, Jeff, and Lars Stranberg of the well-known and raced local multihull “Broderna“ but medical issues and work were going to prevent this allstar line up from coming together. Even before learning they couldn’t make it I had put out feelers for a fifth crew member as a backup and Maureen Crist had come back saying she was interested and available.

Jeff had been involved with the boat since its previous ownership so he gave his suggestions for backing the boat out of its tight slip on the headwalk. The Dragonfly 32 is a folding trimaran with a 26-foot beam so maneuvering in the marina is on par with a 120-foot powerboat. When you take up the entire fairway it’s good to leave at the crack of seagull farts.

Once clear of the Cap Sante breakwater I brought the little three-cylinder Yanmar up to 2500 RPM and was a little surprised to see our boat speed settle at 5 knots. I had figured the 6500-pound boat would go faster than that. Now thinking about it, three hulls and the drag they produce is not quick.

A call to the fuel dock in Neah Bay confirmed that the res was closed to not native people making the small seasonal fishing village of Sekiu our last opportunity to get fuel. We had four 5 gallon jerry cans to add to our 18 gallon built-in tank. A three-cylinder diesel should draw about .6 gal an hour and I had figured we could turn for 6 knots, breaking my rule of doing all dead reckoning at 5 knots. The weather window we had called for some motoring so we were going to have to get fuel somewhere after Sekiu.

We arrived at the little seasonal fishing camp at 7 pm and found a spot to tie up our beamy craft. We learned that we were going to have to walk our jerry cans up to a self-service fuel station. A small store shares the fuel pump and very generous hours 4 am to 9 pm is better than anywhere I’ve found on the West Coast so we were happy to get fuel at all. We were underway by 8 pm as the sun was setting.

The forecast at this point was for a little bumpiness at Cape Flattery and a Southerly. 11 knots AWS on a port tack and we were sailing as fast as we could motor and pretty much in the right direction. Later the Nightwatch shared a beautiful moonrise.

Tack to Starboard at Noonish not going the right way.

Moonlight sailing is the best

Newport!

As we crossed Astoria’s latitude I got a fresh report and it was looking we were going to have quite a bit more motoring in our future and that continuing would put us at Cape Blanko at a particularly bad time. Next stop, Newport OR. After burgers and a night of good sleep, we were out at the beginning of the flood. Blanko was a little bit of a worry at this point the GFS prediction on the Windy App called for up to 20 and the HRRRR on Predict wind was up to 30. The only good news was that it had an easterly component. Offering a chance of protection from the higher topography near the capes we were going to have to negotiate. We didn’t know how the boat would handle the seas so I delayed the commitment to round till we were off Coos Bay and our last bail-out point. Unfortunately, this lined up with the ebb and the bar reports we got from the USCG told us Coos Bay was closed to vessels under 35 feet. It was getting dark so this was going to be the last bar report and we wouldn’t know if it was passable on the flood. There was a good-sized westerly swell running at this point. Our next last-ditch bailout would be a small anchorage in the lee of Blanko called Port Orford. Then the fog that we had been going in and out of got really thick making that a more risky option. As it turned out the boat handled things quite well but we decided to motor sail with just the jib out. The mast had been broken on a prior attempt to truck the boat south and the replacement had a poorly aligned T track that had blown up some hard-to-get Rosnstan sail cars. It had been filed by a rigger unfortunately, the issue hadn’t been fixed. The big seas showed a bit more of the whites of eyes than I had seen so far. Its moments like these affirm a captain’s caution. The power of the ocean cannot be understood without experience. Just as you cant take pictures of waves that do their scale justice you must have had the experience like this on a boat heading the only way you can and no option to retreat. The experience of only being able to go forward to safer harbors or into a calmer day.

Once passed the worst of it it was looking like the wind was going to shut off and force us to motor the whole way in. It looked like we had another fuel stop in our future as well. These fuel stops sound easier than they are. You have to coordinate your bar crossing with the operating hours of the fuel dock and the time you are passing the port. This requires a bunch of Dead Reckoning to plan and choose a port. Fortunately, Crescent City is both in the lee of some land and is one of the only fuel docks on the West Coast not on the other side of a river’s bar.

We ducked in and through the fog and the temp rose about 30 degrees. Fueled up and were out again with enough to make it to San Fransisco.

We never saw Cape Mendicino but I was glad to pass it without any abuse.

We are 160 nautical miles north of San Fransisco the wind is not quite enough to sail as we gently glide over the now small waves into the damp fog under power. The trimarans trampolines that are stretched between the main hull that’s been our home for the past 5 days billow lightly up and down like white bat wings. The engine drones on as Sade plays on the stereo while the boat owner’s phone charges from the boat’s stereo and our only USB port. The chart plotter and integrated radar don’t have detailed charts uploaded so our phones are our only accurate forms of nav devices on board. Its 17:45 and in 15 minutes we will add the fuel that’s in the three jerry cans lashed under the traveler. After that, the only fuel to get us the remaining distance is in a partially full 5 gal jerry in the lazarette. The forecast is for 5 to 10 knots from the south for the next 24 hours. We will be arriving just after the slack before ebb. It should be about 1.5 knots.

Between fog, fuel limitations, currents on bars, bar closures to boats under 40 feet, and the fact that this boat is made to fold up; this boat’s delivery to SF is no exception in the manifold forms of stress involved with coastal passage making. Just now over the radio, the USCG relayed a tow request for a black Thunder Jet 30 offshore of Crescent City where we fueled up last. Even the cool kids are having a hard time today.

Once under the Golden Gate, the wind picked up adding another form of boat stress to our trip; Docking! We were going to have to partially fold an ama in to fit into the double slip waiting for us in a particularly windy marina.

Moe on the helm while fenders are deployed.

No problem!

Shaw Island Classic

Elsewhere’s crew is made up of the sweetest and saltiest of dawgs.

Wasp Passage used to be know for pirates. I imagine that the strictly sail drivin craft of the past, when floundering in the light wind and strong currants here, were at their most vulnerable.

Elsewhere in her element about to real in all but one boat in the final stretch.

Meridian 441 Friday Harbor to Crescent City

Meridian 441

Friday Harbor to San Diego 

It’s not often that I get to deliver a boat from my home port. I’m not used to the convenience. The job was referred to me by a somewhat antique local captain who told me he wasn’t interested in coastal deliveries but having been the caretaker of the vessel and its occasional captain he could attest that the owners were good customers. I coordinated with him after making some arrangements with the owners to get an orientation to the boat, also something I’m not used to. When we met on the boat we found that the port engine’s battery could not turn it over. Glad to be finding this out before I had a weather window and crew aboard I informed the owner of the situation. I told him the start bank and the thruster batteries were old lead-acid batteries and needed to be replaced to move the boat. He responded by saying that he had just recently spent $18,000 on batteries and didn’t know why I was having problems. This is an example of some of the frustration both boat owners and service people like myself deal with too often. The owner doesn’t know his boat or how half of the systems on his boat works and feels taken advantage of by the shipwright or mechanic who worked on his boat last because it feels like there is always more to repair.

This is because boats require a tremendous amount of maintenance and their increasingly complex systems designed to make the landlubber feel life afloat doesn’t require any compromises compared with the conveniences of shoreside life. In adision, some things like batteries are both parts with comparatively short-term lifespans and require regular preventative maintenance.

Then I come along to help him move the boat he owns and doesn’t feel comfortable operating and find that the maintenance has been deferred and the boat is not seaworthy for the passage. I am in a position where I feel like I have to explain and justify the work that the boat needs to move forward and the owner is running out of patience with the boating world. At this point asked to see the invoice for the previous work on the battery bank to confirm that it was the house bank, not the start bank that had been replaced. After confirming this the next hurdle was the time it would take to have the small local marine repair outfit replace the batteries. Figuring this would take a few months and conflict with other deliveries planned, I offered to do it myself and for a significantly better rate than those he had previously hired to work on the house bank.

Two weeks later and the batteries were down and I was learning all about how to program wireless transmission controllers that needed to be recalibrated. (Old school design uses cables that run from the helm to the engines to change gear and throttle, these engines used a more modern wireless remote system that looked like it came out of the bilge of a spaceship) Once running and after a while spent lashing the oversized dinghy to the undersized davits to raise it further from the water my shipmates Mark and Corey boarded and we were off to the fuel dock. Not long later with Brown Island off our starboard beam, I started to bring the throttles up on the two big Cummins diesel engines. A boat like this, without an oversized dinghy on the back, should cruise at 15+ knots. We were WOT (wide open throttle) and barely doing 12. This was not a good sign. A beautiful rare and long weather window had presented itself to make this passage on what is quite honestly not the most seaworthy boat and I was seeing this window slip away in the periphery of my mind. Already I had an important choice to make: continue on at this very poor performance burning too much fuel while going slow or turn back and lose the day or more to figure out what was wrong. My thoughts were that the boat’s bottom or the wheels (props) were foiled. I called the captain that had run the boat in the past for the owners and asked him what RPM and speeds he had seen. As it turned out in the past three years the boat had moved as many times and never over 7 knots. As luck would have it this captain was also a diver that worked professionally in the marina. As misfortune would have it he could not dive the boat till 3 pm and we would miss the second fueling in port Angeles I had planned on to deduce the fuel consumption on the boat. My fears about the window closing or feeling the pressure to proceed without a confident sense of our burn rate and range moved from the periphery to the center of my mind. 

A raising pressure makes any prudent skipper keen to waste no time putting miles under the keel.

It was 4pm and we no longer had barnacle incrusted props. At 17 knots we going to make it to PA 30 miles away before the sunset. The transient dock next to the fuel dock is an easy approach, often available and more than makes up for the rustic patina of the Port of Angels and its main marina’s bathrooms. 

We didn’t have a good idea about the fuel consumption of the engines because of the foiled props and our turning back in Griffin Bay, so I wasn’t sure of our range with the 400 gallons aboard. The Washington Coast has very few options along its coastline for fuel and they are on the other side of the least fun type of bars. These bars are minefields of crab pot floats best crossed only two times a day when it’s not ebbing, and the fuel dock hours never seem to correspond to when you’re there. 

After a complete rerig of the davit tackle, we could safely run offshore. The weight of this dinghy significantly reduced our speed and fuel efficiency on the trip.

Mark and C

COVID and its effect on the aboriginal communities in the Northwest had caused the tribes to close their respective ports and fuel docks making the best fuel and ice cream stop out of the question. In other times Neah Bay is a wonderful place for a wayward sailor/delivery crew to stop. Their fuel dock attendants and breakfast at Warm House Restaurant are a welcome oasis in the otherwise remote and inhospitable NW edge of the country. We were going to have to make Westport, a place that makes Port Angeles look like a charming tourist town.

As we were heading through the shortcut between Tattoosh Island and Cape Flattery “Hole in the Wall” I realized that it was the perfect conditions to cross the bar at La Push, another port on reservation land. I thought that it was worth a try so I called the number I found before I lost my cell signal. It went straight to voicemail which said that due to covid they were closed to the public but there was an emergency number. Feeling brave and hoping to avoid Westport’s fuel dock and another night waiting for it to open I gave it a call. A nice man answered and I told him that we were a powerboat southbound.

The man on the phone said that he would be a real d*(k if he turned us away so he said he would call the reservation police before we arrived and we could fuel up. Beautiful conditions for my first crossing of this legendary bar.

This is one of those places you can’t help but find a part of yourself glad it is so inaccessible to the general public. A gem of semi-natural protection with the towering rocks you pass to port and in the lee of prevailing conditions. A winding sandy river snakes into the rainforested valley beyond the small but welcoming marina. My guess is no more than 50 boats could moor there. To our starboard just inside the small marina’s entrance was a dock 60 feet long with two pumps dispensing diesel or gas with debit card terminals. There were some fishermen moving crab pots on in the nearby parking lot and among them the man I had spoken to on the phone. He told us we had to swipe the card twice for each tank because any delay would restart the process.

Fueled up we headed out the now significantly less intimidating bar. Even more of comfort came from the new knowledge of the boat’s burn rate and subsequent cruising range.

A few more fuel stops later and we were faced with the reality that our narrow weather window could not accommodate the slower pace unforeseen maintenance issues inflicted on our plan.

Deciding Crescent City was the closest port to leave the boat until the next window could allow, we found a car rental company and headed home.

If we had clean props I have no doubt we would have made the passage in the window we had. Next time I’ll check..

Island Packet 35

Another uneventful border crossing in the books This delivery unlike the Pursuit before it required some skillful current timing. We were doing 8 knots at one point which is impressive considering that the sailboat only has a 3 cylinder diesel and it was towing a 15 foot skiff.

I delivered one of these although quite a bit newer from Seattle to SF a few years ago and the design has an interesting story. These are the last full keel production boats ever made. Not my first choice for sailing in small waters but the delivery certainly made the new owners very happy. They had bought the boat without ever seeing it in person. I felt like Santa Claus bringing them their new toy.

Port Townsend to San Fransisco (almost)

Earlier this year I was contacted by a gentleman preparing for a passage to Hawaii on his, new to him Amel Maramu. The boat was getting new sails from Ballard Sails and undergoing a refit for the cruise. The owner and I discussed options and we discided that the best plan would be to spend a week in the San Juans going over the fundamentals of cruising and then see how far we could get the boat down the coast to its temporary berth in SD.

1986 Amel 48 Maramu “Della Sue”

Port Townsend to Bodega Bay

On June 18th I met the crew of the 1986 Amel Maramu “Della Sue” in Port Townsend at 20:00. Unfortunately, after the pizza place with the best pizza on the peninsula, Waterfront Pizza had closed. I had waited three hours to get on a ferry from Whidbey Island to get there and had been looking forward to a slice. Life can be hard but enough about pizza. A month prior I had sailed with Greg and Eric the owner of the boat in the San Juans to do a little shakedown and cover some of the fundamentals. I had not met Justin the other member of the crew. After we did a round table discussion of everyone’s goals, sailing dreams, and background they told me the story of their somewhat eventful docking in the Port Townsend boat basin’s Commercial docks; explaining that the 30 kit gusts caused them to lose control in the near fairway and make contact with a few other boats. Not a great start

The plan was to sail down to SF and drop me off before they went on to San Diego and then later to Hawaii. Justin was the only crew member with offshore experience having done a South Pacific passage years ago. We had planned to cast off a few days earlier and having looked at the weather, we decided it would be better to push our departure date back for a better window.

Dead Reckoning. 24 hour days in red and ports in green.

Saturday’s GFS forecast promised 15 knots from the west and an opportunity to shake the wrinkles out of Della Sue’s brand new sails on the short hop to Port Angeles and our last fueling opportunity before our journey down the coast.

I should know better than to trust the GFS model inshore and in this area as it is consistently less than what it should be. Saturday we saw 27 knots and not 10 miles from PA when looking in the chart table for the Wagners cruising guide to contact the harbormaster a wave dipped the rail and Justin lost his balance and stumbled across the cabin. In the fall he bent the rail on the ship’s range with the small of his back and broke his pinky finger.

We furled our sails and motored in, the call to the harbormaster going straight to voicemail we tied up at the pump-out dock. Before we started dinner we did another round table discussion. The question was whether to continue with the trip as planned. We now were one hand short with an already small and inexperienced crew. Justin said he had broken the finger before and was fine to go on but wouldn’t be able to handle lines and offered to do all the cooking and cleanup associated then next issue was how would we change the watch schedule with only three. We decided on a four-hour solo rotation where the remaining capable hands would split the days into two four-hour watches per day and Justin would take on all the cooking.

our 9 fingered chief ruining my future expectations for food underway on future passages.

Cooking under power allows for some flat working surfaces. Note the stone inset in the table rendering its fiddles almost useless.

Seagoing Basil

Sunday the wind was 5 knots and less so we motored to our next stop; Neah Bay to anchor for the night.

Monday the HRRR forecast and the QTVLM weather routing had us motoring offshore for 8 hours before we would get into 15 knots of Northwest wind. Nine hours later we were further offshore than I like to be on deliveries but into enough wind to sail at 7 knots and get the engine off. This wasn’t a delivery though. In our discussion regarding the shared goals of the crew, the time we were spending on the boat and the primary focus was to be to gain the experience necessary to continue on south and beyond to Hawaii without my help and we needed the wind to do that. Unfortunately, to get to that wind we burned a significant amount of fuel to do so. The boat we were on, a very well thought of and thought out French ketch designed to be a passage maker had a range of 250 miles under power and we were going to have to be careful watching the weather for wind holes.

Coos Bay (Charleston Fuel Dock)

More motoring had us heading to Coos Bay for fuel and dinner ashore a significant notch below what we had been accustomed to eating when Justen was cooking on the boat. The broken finger hadn’’t got in the way of his culinary skill.

(some motoring later after fueling in Eureka)

We are 30 miles south of Cape Mendocino and the engine has discharged 4 quarts of oil out of the oil vent. We know this because it takes four quarts to fill it back up. The forecast is for the wind to build to 15 to 20. It's 17:00 (5 pm) after a brief attempt to start it I'm certain that it will not run without risk to the engine.

---

The options as I see them are

1- sail back to Eureka into the wind, get a tow or short tack up the channel.

2- Sail south 130 miles to Bodega Bay where we could either anchor in the lee of the bay or get a tow into the harbor (the channel being too narrow to short tack up)

3- Sail south to San Fransisco. This would put us there at…. AM and there is a chance it will be in reduced visibility and in a high traffic area with large unmaneuverable vessels transiting the area. With the additional chance that there will be little or no wind.

4- Sail 300 miles to Half Moon Bay

We haven’t been able to charge other than minimal solar but it is keeping up on the instruments but not sure it would with radar on if we get into the fog for too long.

If we anchor off the bay we would need to use the batteries to pull up the anchor. The windlass is meant to be operated when the engine is on so there is a risk of not having the amps to pull up the anchor and if we drag the only recourse is tying a retrieval line to a fender and the chain’s bitter end.

There is also the risk that if we use the dinghy to tow the boat up the channel to the harbor the outboard that has not been tested will stop running sending the ketch aground as it would drift out of the narrow and shallow channel. 

The watches are running 4 on 8 off with a crew of 3 in rotation. Jibing close to the shore down the coast would mean single-handed jibes or waking the off-watch every jibe. 

Instead, we sail offshore and follow the forecast and route our routing software suggests. This puts us out of cell range until we are 15 miles out at 19:00 (7 pm) A few crew calling all the towing companies on the west coast we learn that there are no towing companies in Bodega Bay. The last company we speak to says call the USCG. With great reluctance we do. We rendezvous with a 45-foot aluminum Coast Gaurd lifeboat off Bodega Rock at 21:00 (9 pm) the wind does not abate in the lee as much as I was hoping and we are told to “drop sails” so we roll in the main and jib and begin drifting under bare poles. They are to weather of us when I yell across the water between us that they may be better off coming along the starboard side in the lee when they choose to tie on our hip. For better or worse my experience skippering a Vessel Assist boat has me having ideas on how to do the tow best. My past experience being on the other side of the maneuver also reminds me that there is only one captain when boats are connected and it’s the one on the boat with the power.

The skipper of the Lifeboat agrees and calls for the fenders to be put out on the port side. At least 3 of the 6 teenagers on the deck start at medium speed to deploy fenders as the boat drifts down to us. The skipper sees what’s going to happen and puts both 435 hp engines in reverse hard and pulls away. We are almost a mile downwind from where we met them and I change the plotter to night mode as the light is beginning to fade. Once clear astern we see the CG boat speed back upwind of us at 15 knots and slow to throw a having line to me on the bow. The kid throwing the floating rubber ball to me on the foredeck throws it straight into the rigging where it gets tangled. As I try and untangle the heaving line to begin pulling the tow rope to our bow the lifeboat begins to drift down on us, eventually hitting the just aft of our beam. Then the skipper puts his boat astern and the much higher freeboard of the CG boat hits our stainless railing. There is a terrible scraping sound of aluminum against stainless and as the boat hits the outboard on its rail mount the railing is pushed in and the outboard is all but ripped from the railing. It looked like the next thing to go would be the dinghy on the davits. The skipper apologizes and comes back now with fenders on his starboard side realizing the distance we have traveled downwind and the time that has passed. We run lines on for aft and begin heading in. It is dark now and the skipper of the CG boat turns on the work lights on their beam. We can’t see much now that our night vision is gone but based on the jockeying of the throttles it sound like the skipper is having problems lining us on our approach to the narrow harbor entrance.

Our bow is not as parallel to the towboat as I would have it…

Eventually, we are dropped at the fuel dock and they wave goodbye.

The next day I speak to every fisherman that comes in to fuel up and ask if they know of a slip or a mechanic. We find a slip and a mechanic and launch the dinghy and by pushing from the port hip before the wind fills in the next day we are tied up in a more respectable spot.

Like a semi amphibious hermit crab person, I make my meandering way back to home waters. It takes three days but I get that slice of pizza in Port Townsend.

Take away

In retrospect I should have been more adamant about the vessel needing an oil pressure alarm before we left. It wouldn’t have change the outcome with the Coast Guard but it would have saved the engine (still no word on what and why a month later)

Also we should have been more serious about changing the plan after Justin had his fall. It would have been fine to continue but when the key pieces of the original plan begin to fall apart you have to reassess. We should have stopped pushing for San Fran or looked for last minute crew to fill in or pushed our departure back.

It is very important to know when its necessary to tough it out and when you just have to ether call the whole thing or revisit the goals.

The go no go call is the most important call a captain can make. The pressure of the schedule and commitments of the crew all push us on and out where we may not have many options. As captain you have to be constantly assessing and reassessing the condition of the boat crew and weather and remain prepared to wait or bag it. The option of not going is the most important thing you can take with you and the most dangerous thing you can have on board is a schedule.

Pursuit 3070 Anacortes WA to Sydney BC

So in the middle of Elsewhere’s refit in Portland, I get a call to deliver a powerboat from Anacortes to Sydney BC. This is hugely inconvenient to leave the boat and the 10 people helping to get Elsewhere ready for The NW Offshore but as all these refits seem to go I’m hemorrhaging money like crazy so I agree to drive up for the one-day delivery. When I arrive I find out that the truck that is driving the boat from Texas has broken down and will not be making it so I drive back to Portland to continue work. The boat’s new owner is a nice young Canadian commercial fisherman and offers to pay me for my lost day if ill drive back up to move the boat when it arrives. This was going to be challenging because the arrival date ended up conflicting with the Elsewhere crew’s availability to help so I called Arnie Hammer to see if he would move the boat from the slings to the temporary slip. This done I could get on the boat with relative connivance.

A few days later I was underway to Friday Harbor to grab my Hobie Power skiff. Yes, that’s right the Hobie that made the Hobie Cat made an unsinkable surf rescue boat. She’s my inter-island zoomer with her 50 horses and weighing only 650 pounds she tows very nicely. The two 250 Yamahas did notice a thing. Oh and the Pursuit is a pretty sweet boat and that’s coming from a sailor. After a relatively uneventful customs visit and the border paperwork done we were zooming back to Friday Harbor. 

Pacific Northwest Offshore

Sometimes you have to go backward…

As the work in the yard came to a finish the forecast for this year’s PNW Offshore race began to come into focus. Last month we had been vigorously taking apart and diligently resembling my 1986 Soverel 33. She now had new deadlights, foredeck hatch, anodized spreaders, paint on the mast, oil on her wood, wax and paint on her hull, a polished prop, a new water pump, and rebuilt starboard chainplate deck. The forecast was anticipating gale-force winds from the south by the time we were going to be approaching the most NorthWestern point of the United States and Washington. This wind combined with the fetch from the south and prevailing Northwest bode well for bounciness. Sailing is a Watersport after all and we were confident in our boat having taken everything apart.  The only unfortunate thing was that the crew had only 4 of the original 8 we had planned to do the race with making it a crew of half substitute sailors who had never sailed together. Two crew left the program the day before the race so we had our work cut out for us but there was no doubt in my mind that despite the 30+ knots in the forecast we had nothing to worry about. Sailboat racing is a game just like other sports and you play differently based on the hand you are dealt. The propensity of the boat; the advantages and disadvantages of its design, the strengths and weaknesses of the crew, and the conditions on the course all go into the approach.

Fortunately, a forecast is just a forecast and after 24 hours of beautiful surfing in nothing over 25 we were approaching Cape Flattery and the halfway mark having seen 14 knots of boat speed and under total control through the night. Asymmetrical kites set on the pole are such a solid option for offshore wavey conditions.

Great shot of the start by Maria Swearingen

Now for the hard part.

We were now pointing our bow into the greatly diminished wind in the lee one the Northern Cascades and a healthy ebb. We were fighting to see over 3 knots of speed over ground and we could see the J 105s in our division tacking up the shore as they hunted for current relief along the weedy shore. This seemed the best course as the boats out in the middle and just south of the now restricted Canadian border showed no heeling and therefore wind and giving the very light and variable forecast there was a chance that if they lost all wind and steerageway they may be pushed across the border or worse; find themselves in front of a very unmaneuverable tanker going 20 knots. Ether of these would result in disqualification. Some ocean racing rules have penalties for sailing in shipping lanes for this reason. We were going to have to tack up the shore and it was starting to rain.

Two watches later and I come up on deck to find a good portion of the fleet had sailed by us and we were at risk of a dodger boat rolling us (see “dodger boat”). I asked my first mate Martin Gibson what had happened and he said they sailed into a kelp patch and had taken a while to remove the kelp from the rudder. After a few moments on the helm, I felt a small wobble on the tiller and said I thought there was still something on it, to which Marty insisted that they had removed it all. One more “rolling” by a slower boat later we backed the boat down and as we were sailing in reverse and a huge ball of kelp came off the running gear. We were back in it and all we could do was hope our competition would run out of what little wind remained and allow us to catch back up. Too much distance had been lost however and after a valiant and long night of just over 1 knot SOG and a three-hour watch with as many spinnaker hoists and we were clawing our way around the spit and under spinnaker ghosting in, out of the current and in the sun again.

A very tired crew receives the famous hot towel and Champaign and bathroom key.

Well done everyone that showed up. Next time!

Advanced Coastal Cruising

ASA 106

The Advanced Coastal Cruising Class or ASA106 is the 5th level in the American Sailing Associations credited courses. This class represents the level after Coastal Navigation and is often the first time many ASA-certified sailors get the opportunity to experience night sailing. The 104 or Bareboat certification that is needed to charter boats is the highest level most students of the ASA programs achieve and due to insurance restrictions charter guests are limited to operating chartered boats in daylight hours. Some that attend the 106 are boat owners and that was the case with the crew of this class. Tom McLeod reached out to me to help him deliver his new boat from PT to Astoria a few weeks prior and Max Heckscher has owned an Ericson 35 for years. Fernando owns a beautiful Scandinavian cruising boat and Nick Duckstein used to own a Hunter he chartered out through a local outfit.

The hosting yacht was the Andrews 53 “Artemis” owned by Captain Tom Muir a friend and shipwright from Seattle and new addition to the islands. Tom is an ASA instructor of the highest order and has been in the boating industry for many decades.

The crew met on Friday and it wasn’t hard to recognize everyone because most had addended the GBA Ground School a few weeks prior. We geared up and began orienting ourselves with the powerful boat speaking at length about the importance of running backstays, something new to many of the crew.

We cast off and had killed the engine by the time we rounded Turn Island on the North end of Griffin Bay. Heading south we reviewed the weather forecast. Our plan was to sail as far out the Straight of Juan De Fuca as possible and turn around to have the crew back by Sunday evening. The forecast was for a small craft advisory later that night in the eastern end of the straight so we planned a possible layover in Port Angeles that night. By the time we were approaching PA we were under jib alone and making almost 9 knots. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind Artemis was a powerful boat. After we furled the jib in the lee of one of the anchored tankers and were motoring across the bay we noticed a small fishing boat crossing from port. As many readers know the vessel to the right is the stand-on vessel in a crossing situation like this but after no coarse correction or acknowledgment was recognized concern that we were about to collide arose. Once eminent and after yelling I called for the helm hard to starboard as ducking their stern was not an option at this point. The boat steamed by with the skipper’s head in a cooler totally ignorant of the near-miss and litigation that would have ensued.

Enough excitement for the day had the boat happily snoring away before 11 and underway before the seagulls were up. The next day the conditions had abated but the forecast called for it to fill in so we started discussing contingency plans. We decided we would sail West as long as we could and turn around when it got too rough and sail back to the San Juans to round the county via Rosario. The next excitement came when after turning around off Piller Point we were southeast of Victoria in about 25 knots and hitting the low teens surfing the wind waves under jib alone. Captain Muir was at the helm when I was tucking myself in for the first nap of the day to prepare for my watch from Midnight to 3 with Nick and Fernando when Tom yelled that he had lost steering. I responded and dived into the stern of the boat where the quadrant was to see if a cable had come free or if something had jammed between the quadrant and the stops. Seeing neither of these more common issues I put on my gear and got on deck to take what little control was left and send Tom into the back of his boat to investigate further. Tom had recently hauled his boat and replaced his rudder bearings so I knew he was familiar with the area of concern. With one foot on the emergency tiller and two hands on the wheel we rolled the jib to its smallest reefing mark and I drove the boat down the waves taking what pressure I could off the rudder. We then send a mediator to relay the communication through an open cockpit porthole to coordinate our efforts. Tom was going to have to loosen the quadrant bolts while I turned the wheel against the tiller to recenter the quadrant that had slipped off is setscrew under the loads we had been inducing as we reaching across the waves moments before. A little wiggling in concert with the waves we were surfing and we were done with the portion of the class where we have to explain the use and importance of an emergency tiller aboard.

At midnight when I was back on deck we were ghosting up the southern entrance of Rosario and as I reached for the handheld radio to hail the down-bound tug and this watch’s source of excitement, her skipper hailed us. Where do you want us skipper I said. Stay where you are, ill leave you to port.

Our next watch we watched the sun come up bleary-eyed and ready to sail out of the lee of Orcas island the tallest of the archipelago. By noon we were anchored off Jones Island and having lunch with a bunch of cruisers.

After lunch and an impromptu man overboard drill had everyone confused turning the wrong way and messing up the runners we were heading back to Friday Harbor.

We can’t underestimate the importance of the fundamentals. MOB is a part of the Basic Keelboat course material. After it is introduced in this class it must be practiced practiced practiced.

Yellow Island cruise on Elsewhere

Yellow Island is a beautiful little preserve located 7 miles North of Friday Harbor and offers a window into a time before the development of its surrounding islands. On it, wildflowers cover its grassy slopes as trails wander a visitor from view to view that can’t help but make you want to slow down and take in the smells and sights. Bees bumble around your feet and the spring air is full of the boisterous song of the small bids lucky enough to call this island home. Not far up the path after landing the 13-foot gig I brought just for the chance to see this famed island (nonmotorized boats are not allowed to land) I passed the caretaker sitting on a bench. He looked up from the drawing he was not going to have to add elsewhere to and said hello. We chatted for. 30 minutes or more and spoke about everything from dinghies that row well to the new rules about whale watching. Matt is as kind as he is lucky in jobs being the caretaker. Eventually, I let him return to his drawing and began my exploration of the island. Here are some of the pictures.

Seattle to Friday Harbor Beneteau 310

---

---

The other day I headed to Seattle to pick up a boat on the lake. These deliveries that require transiting the locks can be hard to get a good time estimate on because the lock traffic and road traffic from bridge openings all slow things down. The Signature Yachts’ broker met me to offer a brief orientation and the boat’s dinghy was brought over. Which was nice. I always have a fear that I’ll deliver a boat to some far-flung place and have forgotten the dinghy. After the dinghy was tied to the boat we were heading back to my home port of Friday Harbor. My crew was a formidable landsman and highly dedicated student of the water. Captain Jon Palmer is a, soon to be retired, fire chief as well as alumni of the GBA Advanced Coastal program. Jon was on board and we had Friday morning till he had to be back at the station to get this boat the 70 miles north where we would rendezvous with a Canadian Delivery Captain to take the boat on to Vancouver BC. Jon was equipped and ready to go through the night to get to FH but I was having second thoughts about the cold night and the about of logs drifting around. No one was sure how much fuel was on board and I never trust the gauges so the first stop was the fuel dock on the lake. We were trying to get out of the lake as fast as possible.

---

As we tied up to what I’m sure is one of the oldest fuel docks around we realized we couldn’t get the fill cap off. The boat is French and from the 90s and meant to go fast. Everything is made of cast aluminum (exaggeration) and the key made to fit into said fuel fitting brakes off in the cap. We can’t get fuel in the boat to go. End of delivery right?

Wrong

Just like that time, I was delivering this J 145 from Jamaica to Antiqua and the Yanmar key broke off in the switch before we cast off. It’s a good thing I can hotwire a boat. In this case, the outside of box thinking only meant we had to unscrew the fixture from the deck, remove the hose clamp, fill the boat up, and put it back together. Not much time later and with our snacks and cup o noodles the store provided we were off and were waving at Teddy Doo and Arne Hammer as we buzzed by the CSR docks. Arne and Teddy Doo weren’t over the horizon before I had a call from him asking if we planned to tow the dinghy all the way. I thanked him for his unsolicited advice and implicit faith in my abilities. I told him that we were keeping our foredeck clear for my first mate’s first lock experience and the second we are through the locks we were hoisting it on the deck and putting the hammer down on this speed queen and … going through the night to PT

Well, there was about 8 to 10 knots blowing from the north once out of the locks with the dinghy on deck and well lashed by my crew. WOT we were doing 6.5 and I was thinking plugging into shore power in PT was sounding nice… Even though patronizing the virtues of Sirens bar or getting shy around the hansom wenches at The Pour House would not be in the cards. We reassessed our eta at the bottlenecks and like I feared we were looking at arriving at cattle pass for max ebb at 3 knots. We conferred that a night in PT was in order and took the PT channel. I admit we did double check our conversion of the 15-meter possible air draft in the bilingual boat’s manual before going under the bridge.

After a nice sleep and some awesome Mexican food, we were off to Cattle Pass and Friday Harbor beyond. The fog was pretty thick when we left and we were going slow when the sun came up. It was a spectacular sight, seeing the sun come through the fog There was a little wind but not enough to stay on schedule and sail.

You can have sailing or time constraints but you can’t have both. This is why I love racing. When the wind dies you go slow and with the exception of a race with a constricting time limit you get there when you get there. Going as fast as you can-slowly-is great. The only other time you have a great excuse to not turn on the engine is if you are doing a blue water passage where you only have enough fuel to motor for maybe 1\4 of the trip. People say to me sometimes “Captain Rhys you are a racer and I am a cruiser. You are concerned with speed and I am not”. This is often the excuse for not wanting to learn the finer points of sail trim. To that, I say no I am a racer and a cruiser. I’ll sail a race boat hard when it’s windy and I’m racing and when it’s calm and I’m cruising I’m glad to go only 3 knots all day if it means not turning on the engine and just see where I end up. So many people that cruise the San Juans do so with their main up and the engine on. There are a few reasons for this like the wind is light in the summer and even lighter inside the archipelago but mostly I think the reason is people bring their scheduling mindset to cruising instead of adapting to the conditions. Maybe it’s how tired I get from having to deliver boats on the schedule that makes me want to slow down when not working.

Back to the delivery.

It’s noon and we are at cattle Pass and though it is ebbing a bit we get through without much fuss. Back in FH Jon catches his ferry home and the boat is picked up the next day by a Canadian delivery captain to take it the rest of the way to Vancouver. Done and done. Cool boat.