Princess Louisa Inlet

“It will touch your soul”, a woman said to me as we cast off the lines at John Henry’s Fuel Dock in Hospital Bay.  As one cruises deeper into the inlet, first up Prince of Wales Reach, then turning up Princess Royal Reach and finally the last turn into Queen’s Reach, the solitude increases. On both sides of the channel, in front of us and behind us is nothing but the most spectacular scenery;  heavily wooded, lush, deep green fjords that rise to the sky and towering cliffs.  There is complete silence. 

We are aware that we are but a speck upon this earth.

Francis Point, Gerran's Bay, Pender Harbor

We shared a delightful lunch with Bruce and Margaret of Tapawingo at The Garden Bay Hotel , which is actually a pub and not a hotel at all, before dingying across the harbor to the Whiskey Slough Public Wharf for a short walk to the Francis Point Marine Park.  We hiked through the fragrant forest of old-growth Douglas fir and western red cedar to the headlands where we were enveloped by a hot, dry breeze and brilliant sunshine.  We were rewarded for our efforts with the most incredible views of Malaspina Strait. 

Swanson Channel

With sunny skies, light winds and calm seas, we were making a leisurely three knots under full sail.  “These things aim for you”, Ken stated as a matter of fact.  I was pitting fresh pie cherries in the cockpit and looked up to see this behemoth bearing down on us.  In Adventures in Solitude, Grant Lawrence describes the BC Ferries as “lumbering white whales of steel, frothing forward, giant mouths agape, ready to swallow anything in their paths.”  We watched as she silently slid by us. 

Zero Seven Hundred

We bade the early risers on the dock a fond farewell, their shouts and waves the imbedded images of our five years at Shilshole. Light winds, an ebb current, and flat, sparkling silver seas carried us north to Anacortes.  Cruising at speeds up to 10 knots, we made good time and arrived in just six hours.  The sun teased us through a low morning cloud cover to Port Townsend where the horizon turned a dark steely blue and the first rain drops of the day fell, surrounding us long into the night.  Flounder Bay, where we began planning this voyage years ago, is where we chose to return to begin our journey. It's quiet here, a place to reflect and plan and breathe before continuing north to the Gulf Islands.    

Water sisters

What do you get when twenty women engaged in the boating lifestyle gather together in the evening for informative and interesting programs?  Experience, compassion, enthusiasm, and wisdom shared through presentations, stories, conversation, laughter, and great chocolate cake.  Thanks to Vivian and Marilyn for creating an unthreatening environment of learning how to live and enjoy a life on the water at Northwest Women in Boating.  Check out their website at www.nwwb.wordpress.com.
   

Casting Off

After years of planning, we can't think of a reason not to cast off this summer...so we're busy crossing chores off of the to-do list.  It seems like one comes off and another goes on.  No sooner is an engine part found and ordered from Florida to replace one that just failed, than a port light starts leaking; chaps are made for the dingy and we discover missing stitches on the bimini; a haul-out date is reserved and the weather becomes too soggy to paint the bottom.  It's a lesson in taking one day at a time. 

Our plan is to leave Seattle in mid-July and cruise north to Desolation Sound in British Columbia for a couple of weeks before we turn the corner at Cape Flattery and cruise south to Mexico, learning to slow down by making a few stops along the way in California before joining the Baja Ha-Ha in San Diego the end of October. 

We have worked hard to reach this point; reallocating our resources to support our cruising lifestyle, staying focused on our plan when it is so easy to be derailed, and being willing to let go of familiar surroundings and routines to live differently for a while within the sights, scents, tastes and textures of other cultures.

We are fortunate to have the support of our families and friends and look forward to this next chapter of our lives.  Thanks for coming along as armchair sailors.  Hang on to your hats...we look forward to sharing the adventure. 

The Squall

The mottled black and gray waves are dressed in beautiful, airy, lacy white foam. I see them begin their journey a half a mile away. There, they are small, building their volume as they cross the bay. By the time they reach us, their ridges are high and their troughs are deep. Gitane rides up the face and down the back as if tracing the outline of a loved one. The wind funnels her into a dance, swinging her first to port, then to starboard and back again. Her anchor chain, 40 feet below her and 150 ft. in front of her, holds her fast to her pivot point. The dance continues as the squall line approaches bringing playful, bouncing, raindrops that quickly turn into a loud, pounding, pelting roar. Like a tap dancer who begins softly tapping the left foot then the right until tapping so quickly that it’s impossible to distinguish one from the other, the clouds burst. The wind joins in a duet and the anemometer records 32 knots per mile. I feel Gitane holding tight to her chain, digging her claw deeper into the sea floor. The sets signal a tortuous power struggle with Mother Nature, until without warning she catches her breath, the rain becoming a fine mist and the wind a whisper. Gitane is left stretched out on her chain, like a dancer’s arm extended for her partner’s reassuring grasp. The refrain repeats itself as the wind and rain build and subside again, and again, and again. The exhausting dance lasts for hours, until Mother Nature has had enough and moves on, leaving Gitane dancing alone to the soothing melody of softly lapping waves, light as a gazelle, her reflection caught by the bold, brilliant, triumphant moonlight in the ink black water.