The First Leg

Crew
I’ve done a fair bit of solo sailing at this point, but for the first long leg, I decided it would be wise to have a crew member along.  As with anything these days, there are websites for this purpose and just a few short months ago I was on the other side of the same coin, searching for a boat to crew on to build my sailing skills.  Thus, I met Bonnie on the internet and after some email correspondence and a few phone calls, I found her to be not just sane, but downright charming. 

She is a welder in Denver and dabbles in production / set building in LA, NYC, and Iceland.  She once sailed across the Tasman Sea with long periods of hurricane-force winds, so I judged her to be sufficiently salty to weather whatever the PNW had to blow at us.  She also plays the guitar and brought it along to serenade the winds into our favor (which was delightful to listen to, but ultimately ineffective at cajoling the winds in the proper direction).   

First Mate Bonnie reporting for duty

The Route
As with all my planning for this trip, I’ve been trying to stay flexible and allow the winds and weather to dictate the best path and timing.  Thus, we hoped to cover enough ground to get out into the Pacific, but I wasn’t sure where we’d really end up and Bonnie’s return flight home was flexible in location.  We departed on the afternoon of the 20th and anchored or sailed each night until the morning of the 25th when we crossed the Grays Harbor bar and moored in Westport, WA.  

Our approximate path in red...

Sunrise over Lummi Island

For the most part, winds were either from the south and blowing hard, or very light and variable.  Thus, we spent much of this first week beating into the wind or motorsailing along to make better time.  I’d really rather not run the engine and I try to avoid it whenever I can.  That said, I was a bit torn, because I wanted to cover lots of ground while Bonnie was around and we ended up using the motor on a couple occasions to gain a better tack or cover more ground when the winds were <5kts and shifting every ten minutes.

Drifting along at a knot or two with light winds

Over those five days, our route started in Bellingham, traveled south through the San Juan Islands, continued down to Sequim, turned west out the Juan De Fuca Straight, rounded Cape Flattery, and raced south in the Pacific.  We saw everything from porpoises and seals to bald eagles and even a pair of fornicating sea otters.  It was quite a cornucopia of natural beasts and there was no shortage of glorious vistas across the islands.  Also, much of our route wrapped around the Olympic Peninsula and we had a few clear days with superb views of shining water in the foreground and snow-capped peaks in the background.

Calm, glassy water in the Straight of Juan De Fuca

We had mostly sunshine during the first few days, and we spent lots of time in the cockpit, with Bonnie playing guitar and singing to me or one of us reading to the other while the miles passed.  It was even calm enough to stitch some repairs into the dodger and finish up some other tidbits of housekeeping on deck.  While we were anchored at night, we cooked a few proper feasts and ate like kings each night.  A few games of cribbage also transpired, though you could hardly call them games because I really clobbered Bonnie whose skills must’ve been rusty.  That said, it is rare that someone’s trash talking skills match my own and Bonnie is among an elite league of card-game-trash-talkers, despite her yet unobserved skill to back up her bold claims.

Teriyaki Salmon!

The Pacific
Our introduction to the Pacific was… well… not so pacific.  We studied the forecast carefully for days, and while the wind appeared to be contrary for much of the week, there was a period of unsettled weather on Wednesday that brought breezes from a more favorable direction.  We knew this would come with higher winds and bigger seas, but we were well rested and we figured some storminess would be a reasonable price to pay for more ground made in the proper direction.  As it turned out, we were correct and we were able to reel off lots of miles in the right direction that first evening under reefed sails, with Wendy the windvane steering us on a starboard tack.

As the wind increased in force that night, I went up on deck to change out the jib for a smaller jib that I’ve subsequently named “the jiblet”.  As you can imagine, with 25-30kt winds and a solid 10-13ft swell, that is no easy task and the boat was rocking and pitching a fair amount.  I wore my safety harness so that I was securely tied to the boat and couldn’t be washed overboard no matter how much the Pacific wanted to devour me.  One wave came up and over the bow and absolutely drenched me.  I couldn’t help but howl into the wind and it howled right back at me.  That’s a hell of a feeling.

Sailing at night in the open Pacific was magical.  There was some phosphorescence in our wake as we swept along and that, combined with the starry night sky, made for quite a scene.  Stars above and stars below, they say.  At one point, we were sailing along at a pretty good clip and every second or third wave would splash into the cockpit, along with some of these glowing phosphorescent creatures and I’d get a couple seconds to eyeball them until they drained through the scuppers or splashed out the side.

Waves taking a quick visit into the cockpit!

We decided to go for 3 hr watches during the night and play it by ear during the day.  Thus, someone would keep watch from 6 to 9pm, sleep from 9 to midnight, keep watch from midnight to 3am, and then sleep again from 3 to 6am.  This worked out pretty well, and for the most part, keeping watch simply consisted of peeking out under the dodger every 15 minutes to look for boats on the horizon and ensure the sails were drawing well and Wendy was keeping us on the proper course.  Occasionally, you’d have to clip in to go out on deck and make a tack or reef a sail and the spectacle of the wind and waves was exhilarating.  We got a little bit of hail on a couple occasions, which was less than pleasant, but the hail was offset by a couple of lovely sunsets and rainbows that more than made up for it.

Sunset over the open Pacific

I haven’t spent much time in big, open waters and the large, long ocean swell was really incredible.  Rascal isn’t a particularly long craft, so she slowly climbs up one side of a wave, gradually peeks over the top, and then cruises right down the back side.  I was happy for her long keel and her heavy displacement in the open ocean and she took care of us like a wise, old mother.  Beating into the wind is generally dreaded in strong winds, but her motion was slow and sea-kindly and neither of us got seasick (knock on wood).

After a couple of days and nights out on the open ocean, we decided to get back to land so that Bonnie could make it back in time for some engagements this weekend.  The weather had abated to a large degree, so we waited for a favorable tide and we were able to cross the bar at Grays Harbor on Friday morning.  I’m currently moored in Westport, WA; drying things out and getting a day or two of rest and relaxation.  

A week at sea and still smiling

The Next Leg
I’m planning to take off on Sunday or Monday to start the next leg toward the south, with plans of stopping into Tillamook or Newport sometime early next week.  I’ll be sailing solo for a while, but I’m open to having a crew member on board if someone wants to join me for a couple days.  I’m still planning to make it to San Fran in mid-May and I’ve been thinking some sort of “Catalina Wine Mixer” would fit the bill nicely as far as partying is concerned.  Also, I’m hoping to do some resupplying in the bay area, so I’ll probably be around town for a week or so.

To anyone currently considering it, I must whole-heartedly recommend early retirement.  It has been treating me quite well thus far.

The majestic Captain Dwayne in his element