August 25 – September 6 2020 from Port Townsend to Home!

Smeagol and ET3 at Fort Townsend

We opt to try the Fort Townsend State Park buoy in Port Townsend.  We have never ventured this far into Port Townsend Bay and did not know the park was there.  We dinghy ashore and do a nice hike around the park, reading the interpretive signs about the early history of this park. The park harkens back to the 1850’s when it was established as Fort Townsend, a fort established to protect settlers in the area.  We do enjoy the hike but decide that the buoy location is rolly, windy and stinky and we will most likely not stay there again.  We then went even further south to check out Port Hadlock.  The anchorage is quite full and we choose to move back out to our normal Port Townsend anchorage.   

We spend the day exploring Point Hudson, home to many famous mariner crafts people, and the Wooden Boat Festival.  Carol Hasse, sailmaker and Brion Toss, rigger have their shops there.  Sadly, Brion passed away last year.  We stop in to chat with Ian who partnered with Brian and is now the main partner and rigger.  Ian has worked on our boat rigging before he set up shop with Brian.  It is nice to visit with him in his new environs.  We enjoy a leisurely waterfront walk back towards the anchorage and stop to enjoy, but of course, ice cream!  

Skulling Port Townsend Bay

Last crab pot of the season

The 28^th – 30^th we anchor again in Sequim Bay, where nearly two months ago we met our sons and their families for a family campout.  This time we anchor behind the John Wayne Marina instead of much further in at the State Park.  

We have time for some play, Aiden on the halyard swinging like a monkey and a young seal trying to climb into ET3 and Smeagol.  Then we hope to get an early start to take advantage of the ebb current in the Strait of Juan de Fuca.  Planning for that we mention that it will be engines on at 0600.  A.M.!!? Aiden declares!  We have been on such a lazy schedule!  A.M.!! becomes a running joke on the boat.  

0600 finds us engine on and headed out into the Strait.  We quickly pass Dungeness Spit, a favorite anchorage but we are unable to anchor this year due to the high winds in the Strait.  It is well worth a stop when the light house is open.  It is currently closed due to COVID.

We make good time into Port Angeles and set up on the dock for a couple of nights, giving us time to start some of the typical chores in preparation for a trip down the Strait and out onto the ocean.  Smeagol is given a good fresh water rinse and stored below.  We tidy the cabin and get out the offshore life jackets.  We still have plenty of time to walk into town to what is now one of my favorite cafes, Lola’s, for another round of her most excellent grilled cheese on huge sourdough bread and of course, an ice cream cone as we waddle back to the boat.  

Port Angeles Boat Haven

September 1, 2020 - 0600!!! Again, and we are off into the Strait for a run towards Neah Bay.  We hope to check out a new to us anchorage at Pillar Point, but the fog does not allow for this.  We have been in thick fog for hours, but making a good 8 to 9 knots in speed with the ebb current.  I think we might have tried the new anchorage had it not been for our radar dying on us as well…fog, no radar, new anchorage with rock pillars and shallows, too much for us to contemplate.  We motor on, next anchorage option Clallam Bay.  We are making such good time we pass that up as well and head clear to Neah and are anchored in the nice big, calm bay by around 1:30.  We only had a short time against the beginning of the flood current.  This is the fastest run we have ever made between Port Angeles and Neah Bay.

For granddaughter Sophia

We settle in for at least a couple of nights on the hook hoping to troubleshoot the radar.  We do…..as much as we can using all the troubleshooting guides.  We even make a wood platform, or diving board as Aiden calls it.  We keep a 4-foot square of marine plywood under our bed (I know, never know when you may need one right?).  I drill 8 holes in it large enough to allow me to tie the board to three stainless steel pipes that are part of our bimini and arch.  The plywood spans two feet of space across the top of the three ss pipes and 2 feet of the plywood sticks out behind the arch, so that the radar dome plug that is on the backside of the dome can be accessed.  

Checking the radar

Aiden gamely climbs up on the platform, with life jacket on in case he falls off.  He is tall enough to actually reach the plug without having to climb out onto the diving board as he calls it.  He does not trust that the plywood would hold him but he is able to check the plug nonetheless.  He cannot get the plug out but it does appear to be plugged in tightly, so it is not a loose connection.  Our only consensus can be that either the cable to the dome is faulty or the dome itself has malfunctioned.  Bottom line, we now need to plan a run down the coast without radar.  

Having decided that we settle in for our last day in Neah Bay.  While relaxing I watch the helicopter that is flying back and forth.  My days in wildland fire centered around coordinating and communicating with all of the aircraft assigned to fires, be it helicopters, retardant planes, smoke jumpers, etc., all amazingly competent and helpful in the suppression of fires.  As I watch this one come towards us, I notice that something falls off of its sling load which dangles on a long line beneath the helicopter.  The object lands with a big splash in the bay.  This is quickly followed by another falling object.  I hop on the VHF to advise the Neah Bay Coast Guard of the dribbling helicopter.  Once I identify for them that it is indeed the helo coming and going from the area of their base the Coast Guard asks me to standby.  He comes back on the radio shortly thereafter and lets me know that he has alerted the ground crew at the light house that the helicopter load may be dropping debris.  I thank him and say, “yeah, I would not want to be on the ground under that load.”  It turns out that the helo is ferrying building materials to the crew that is rebuilding the light house.  The rest of the loads get delivered without incident.

His Dad's book from his younger years

Cape Flattery Lighthouse

At 0700 we turn engines on and venture out of the bay, headed for the ocean.  We receive a radio message from a sailboat named Flyer, enquiring our destination.  We indicate that we are headed for Portland and that our radar went out.  They do not have radar either and we agree to keep in touch as we go down the coast.    We pass Cape Flattery Lighthouse, the destination of the dribbling helicopter loads.  

On watch with tea and a good book on his phone

We had thought about going into LaPush, but that is closed due to covid and it is presently shrouded in dense fog according to the LaPush Coast Guard.  Given that, we thought about perhaps anchoring at Destruction Island then going into Grays Harbour.  As time approaches to make that decision we realize that we are making pretty good time and decide to motor on.  We radio Flyer since we see their AIS signal drop back.  They have a bit of a structural issue, fix it fairly quickly and proceed on down the coast.  

Resting his eyes on watch

For most of the evening and into the night, we are going along just fine without radar, making good time.  The NW 10-15 wind never shows up so sails are not an option.  After shift change at midnight Carl heads to bed and Aiden and I set up for our three-hour watch under a nearly full moon that lights up the water for us.  Part way through the watch the wind rather quickly turns from north to south, on our nose and around 20 knots.  Aiden notices that I have been adjusting the autopilot quite a lot to try to stay on course.  After we talk a bit about it, we decide to take it off autopilot and I have Aiden go wake up Papa.  Turns out Papa had just gotten up since it was pretty difficult to even try to sleep.   

Deluge of soft books

Carl decides, rightfully so, to have us tack under motor to find a little smoother course from the waves and swell that we are pounding through as the winds remain steady 20+ knots on the nose of the boat.  Aiden offers to stay on watch while I go below and relax but, in these conditions, it is best we are all on deck for now.  We tack back and forth for hours, and eventually Aiden is able to get some sleep even though some of the books fly out of the library and land all around him.  Thankfully they were not hardbacks!  

As daylight arrives, it is still quite dark, perhaps from smoke from so many fires.  We get some relief from the pounding, tacking back and forth, and eventually daylight sets in better so that we can take off the stress of not having radar.  Even so, crab pot watch in the waves and swell is frustrating and we have a very near miss on some crab pot sets.  As we look around more, we do see a rather large Ocean Sunfish.  This is the furthest south that we have seen them.  They are one of the heaviest known bony fishes in the world and this one was quite large! 

Sunset on the ocean

We also see our large buoy ball rolling around on the starboard deck.  In all the pounding it came off of its rope on both ends which has never happened before.  The dock line that is normally stored on the port bow is also pretty much off of the rail.  Given these two items flopping around on the decks I tether to the jackline and go forward and gather them all up.

Crabpot watch in the fog

Around 0800 we hear the Columbia River bar report.  The bar is currently closed to all westbound traffic for any boat under 40 feet.  That is the first time we have been near when it was closed to boats of our size.  They also give warnings to the commercial fishing boats.  Before the wind changed, we were on schedule to where we would have had to slow down in order to wait for the crossing of the Columbia River bar with the incoming tide.  As it ends up, with the unpredicted south winds we arrive at the bar well into the flood tide, and many hours behind schedule.  The bar has calmed down and is open and we motor on, not getting a smooth ride until we are well inside the jetties.  Then our speed picks up from 3-4 to 9 and we ride the incoming tide into our safe anchorage behind Lois Island off Tongue point.  

We turn in early and enjoy the quiet, calm waters, glad to be off the ocean!!  I hail Zephyr, also anchored at Lois.  They must not have their radio on.  A Coast Guard cutter comes quietly by and ties to their anchor buoy.  All is well in the snug anchorage and we sleet for nearly 11 hours.

The next day, catching the flood tide means we get to have a lazy 1145 start back up the Columbia.  The Columbia is a working river and we pass a variety of tugs, barges, cargo ships and the dredge.  We motor on, sometimes with a little push from our head sail.  We decide to tie up to the Rainier dock even though it is an outside tie.  A couple other sailors come and help us pull the stern in since the wind has caught us just as we get off the boat.   

Tugs passing each other

Port of Portland dredge

Tied up securely we see another boat coming in and offer to take the lines to help them.  It turns out to be Flyer, we meet at last.  We tell them that we tracked them all night on AIS, which surprised them.  Our radio does not broadcast our AIS signal so they lost track of us after nightfall.  We thought perhaps they had decided to go into Gray’s Harbor since their boat was in that area for quite some time, going in circles.  It turns out that they were simply doing man overboard drills, an excellent skill to practice in the middle of the night in adverse conditions.  They did hear us on the radio after daylight when I called for a bar report but they did not hear me when last I tried to reach them on the radio just to check in.  We talk for quite some time.  They are a Portland boat that has been up north doing classes.  They are currently finishing up the offshore class and one of the students is a person from where we live, Jim.  We josh back and forth, get nicely acquainted and then all tuck in for the night.  

Our last 8 hours on the river are pretty uneventful.  We finally find the salmon fishing fleet above Warrior Rock.  The river is packed with the small private fishing boats, some of which are anchored in the middle of the official channel.  A tug and barge heading up river passes closely to a cargo ship heading down river.  Many of the fishing boats scatter.  They at least know better than to try and tangle with a tug or cargo ship!  

Passing under the I-5 bridgeAdd caption

Waving to the railroad bridge swing operator

Aiden takes the helm for the last little while.  He makes it through the railroad bridge with a friendly wave, and under the I-5 bridge.  We pull into the marina and tie up to the house with Steve P catching the bow line for us and Aiden tying up the stern.  

Ready to head home

Carl records our hours and miles.  We have logged 915 nautical miles with 173 hours on the engine in our nearly eight weeks.  Aiden has been with us for the entire trip and we have seen him stretch his wings, push some boundaries and grow into a nice deck hand.   He spends another week with us, helping to unload the boat, swab the decks, put gear away and settle back into land life.  With all of his gear clean and packed back up he is ready to head home.  What a joy it has been having him along! 

Tied up at the house