Thanksgiving cruise - Wake up something's wrong

Diesel stove malfunctions

We went for a two-night cruise in icy weather just before Thanksgiving, and had a great time, well except for,
        "Wake up, wake up, somethings wrong."
I don't remember much, but I do remember, my eyes were burning, and  the cabin was full of nauseating diesel fumes and a light haze, which apparently woke her, so she could wake me.
The emergency was that the oil stove (Dickinson Bristol) was huffing and puffing, sending soot but mostly fumes with every huff/puff out every crack in the stove.   She said, is that supposed to do that?  Then she pointed and asked if flames were supposed to be shooting out there, down under the oven door by the sheet metal.

I don't know, I said, I just need to go back to sleep.
So, in a blurry daze, I shut the oil valve off and sneaked a peek under the cast iron lid. It still had a flame, the stove was scorching hot,  the insides were cherry red, and soot was built up and hanging in three inch long strings everywhere inside.  I know, I shouldn't have looked because it may have gone up in a ball right then, but I wasn't thinking clearly
I wonder why it was hard to wake me up, was it fumes, low oxygen, or the wine at dinner?
I lifted the lid and looked in the stove the other day, and yep its still a mess.
Later, when I figure out what went wrong and what to do about it, I'll add to this post.
Update 1/3/14
I think the problem was caused by too much fuel and no fan resulting in a too rich burn that sooted up the chimney, ultimately blocking the flue. The solution after cleaning up a huge soot mess all over the decks and cabin and cleaning out the stove passages was to reduce the fuel flow. (this required pulling the stove to get at the valve and was when I discovered a loose set screw) I reset the valve for less flow on low and now monitor the flame plus use the fan  to keep it burning clean.  Over New Years it burned 30 hrs non stop with perfect results.  The loose set screw caused too much fuel, but the real problem was me not turning on the fan to keep a clean burn.  I like oil and pulling from my main tank, but gee whiz what a mess.

Update: It's been a few years, I tossed out the diesel stove and installed a Propane unit.  Boy! what an improvement in our quality of life onboard.   I wrote a step by step article on the conversion.  The article is in the do it yourself  page under the boaters' quick menu at the top right side,   or copy and paste this url   https://www.sailingthesanjuans.com/p/doing-it-your-self-page.html

and then scroll to the right spot near the end

Click below for satellite view of Inati Bay on Lummi Island

What is Proper Dock and Float Etiquette at our State Marine Parks in the San Juan Islands

     

Rules and regulations - Fees and good manners

We were having a lively discussion about whether a boater should pay .60 cents a foot for their entire boats length, or just the portion in front of the float. All we managed to do was come up with more unanswered scenarios.

• If you have a sixty footer parked at a forty foot float, do you pay for forty or sixty?
• If your twenty footer is forced to hang out ten feet because some lunkhead is hogging the dock do you have to pay for ten or twenty feet? (half the boat is probably too much in some places)
• If a clown doesn't pull down to the end of the float and leaves seven feet of unusable space forcing you to anchor, should he have to pay for that seven feet he has wasted
• What if same bozo parks his thirty five footer in the middle of a fifty foot float and wastes seven and half feet of space at each end, should he pay for the fifty feet he is really hogging?
• Should the park ranger get involved in policing float etiquette?
• Is it ok to move someones pride and joy seven feet without their permission?
• How about the dinghy taking space floating at the back end, should it be counted too?
• When two comedians are rafting at the dock and the sign says "no rafting" do they pay 60 cents per foot per boat or just the dock side boat, or the bigger

Seriously though, please be considerate and try to maximize dock space, some of our San Juan floats only hold two boats on each side, and our bigger or littler friends may easily wipe out more than they need to. There is not a boat out there that can't hang out a little at the pointed end, and that may make the difference getting another boat squeezed in at the other end.  You can be thanked or cursed, you're the skipper.

• What if a boats sprit overhangs a another's dinghy, do they split the 60 cents a foot that they are sharing?
• If the anchor buoy your tied to and already paid for breaks loose and floats away, can you get your fee back?
• If a sailboat rafts with a power boat, what is their offspring named? is it sterile?

Click below for a satellite view of Prevost Harbor

Deception Pass Whirlpools in your Nightmares, Standing Waves and Currents

Navigating Deception Pass in a dinghy   

Don't do it!   

 I have avoided posting potentially scary pics.  I don't want people with vivid imaginations to have runaway thoughts and fears.   But recently, I spent half an hour in Deception Pass playing with the currents, letting them spin the boat while we watched whirlpools develop and subside all around us.

      We would run up a few hundred feet and then drift back, letting the boat spin and wander.

       As you know, when the tide changes, so do the pass and the water conditions.  The changes happen in minutes and even seconds, so be forewarned that you can easily get into trouble here in any number of ways.  I'm not going to argue or defend the safety point or even seamanship. Thirty minutes earlier, the water was so nice you could safely paddle a canoe. Thirty minutes later, well, that's another story too.

        My photography skills are lacking and water pics seem to always come out flat-looking so I will describe the picture below.  What you see is a swirling rotation about thirty feet across. Placid, calm water on one side of the swift flowing current is slowing the flow and throwing off one whirlpool after another. The whirls are both big and little and move with the current for about a hundred feet from creation to disappearance.  At this particular spot, there are 3-5 visible at any one time eliciting ewes and awes from us as we yell and point out, especially big ones to each other.  The inner whirl in this pic is funnel-shaped, about 10 feet across and very pronounced, dropping about 12-18" in the center.  The white center is taking in air and continues down under water just like a land-borne tornado funnel.  The wispy white air bubble tail is clearly visible below the surface for quite a distance.

With the motor quietly idling and the boat drifting we not only watch hundreds of whirlpools form and die but we can hear sucking sounds the particularly big ones emit.  

Of course, the conversation always touches on how a swimmer would be affected, with or without a PFD.  Next comes the kayak and dinghy what-ifs. On this day a standing wave began to form while we dally about.

Some standing waves look a lot like a whirlpool on its side, only without the funnel  You can see the water well up from deep down, roll over at the surface and then dive back down.  When the action gets severe, a nasty roller just sits there in one spot. If a small boat (kayak) gets sideways in any wave, it's liable to be rolled over, but in a fast-flowing pass, it is best to be somewhere else.

This standing wave was developing unnoticed by us and was still mostly flat.

 As we drifted sideways over the beginning stages, our keel got hooked and we violently lurched to one side, heeling enough to slide the coffee cups on the table, and snapping my attention back to the fact that we really were in the middle of Deception Pass and should be serious.

Having enough fun and games, and acutely aware that the tourists watching from the bridge were by now probably making bets on our ultimate demise, I pushed her into forward gear, gunned the diesel and made a broad swinging pass back through the standing wave spot, and then for good measure, turned and ran right down whirlpool alley straddling or bisecting every whirly in sight.  An hour later or with storm conditions, the pass may not be navigable, but on that transit, all that happened was a little wake-up action.

Another perfect July day at Deception Pass

My new Sailing Dinghy is for sale, yes sale, not sail

Dinghy Shore Boat Lesson Learned!

I was sure this purchase would work out, so sure I was ready to get rid of the Livingston, but Linda said I better hang on to it just in case. She was right, and I'm glad I still have the Livingston.

After a summer of cruises to our usual hangouts and a quick trip to Butchart Gardens, I have given the new sailing dinghy the proverbial boot.  And as a final insult I removed the snap davits and re-installed them on the Livingston, done and done.

All the problems with the sailing dinghy individually are not a big deal, but when taken as a whole package, it simply was an intolerable situation.

read more >>>>

This sites purpose and why I write about the San Juan Islands

Before ever going boating in the San Juans, 

I thought about it a lot.

Before I ever set foot on a boat in the San Juan Islands, I spent countless hours imagining it. The excitement, the adventure—but also the uncertainty.

What was the right boat for these waters? Where would we launch? Where would we park? Where could we safely spend the night, fuel up, or navigate the infamous currents?

And then, there was Deception Pass. A swirling cauldron of water that had claimed more than its fair share of unsuspecting mariners. What about the whirlpools, the unpredictable weather? Was this a reckless idea? Was I endangering my family with some romanticized dream of island cruising?

The list of doubts and questions felt endless. And yet, at some point, the only way forward was to take that first, scary step.

---

Our first trip was, in hindsight, nothing short of a disaster when compared with what we do today.  We launched in Olympia—because, well, that’s where we thought people launched for a trip to Victoria and the San Juans. Turns out, that was just mistake number one.

Then came the fog. Not the gentle mist that adds a touch of mystery to the morning. No, this was an impenetrable wall that swallowed our little boat whole as we blindly ventured across the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

We were completely unaware of the monster we were sailing into: a massive flood tide, a battlefield of fifteen to twenty-foot waves that tossed us like a toy in a bathtub. And Tacoma Narrows? We nearly lost everything under that bridge when the fuel ran dry, the current dragging us toward a barge with no mercy.

We had prepaid reservations at Roche and Friday Harbor, only to abandon them when our plans unraveled. We burned through fuel at an agonizing rate, averaging under 10 mph at barely 3 mpg. Every stop at a fuel dock felt like highway robbery.

On paper, it sounds like a nightmare. And, to be fair, there were moments when it truly was. But if you ask each member of that first crew (my family), you’ll hear different stories. Some might shake their heads and say we were lucky to survive. Others, like myself, will tell you that despite it all, it was one of the greatest adventures of our lives.

My kids? Some have moved on to other adventures. Others have carried the torch, returning to the San Juans by boat, by car, by bicycle or on foot—finding their own way to these magical islands.

---

It wasn’t long before I realized something: For first-time boaters and those traveling from out of the area, reliable information was shockingly hard to find.

That’s why we launched in Olympia that first trip—because we simply didn’t know any better. The marina at Swantown said we could park for free, so we did. We thought it was close enough to the San Juans. After all, wasn’t Puget Sound, the San Juans, Juan de Fuca, and Hood Canal all one big interconnected body of water?

And Deception Pass? We saw it as a dangerous roadblock to be avoided at all costs. We had never heard of the Swinomish Channel or Squalicum Harbor. Had no clue that wonderful little Jones Island even existed.

So, for my own enjoyment—and hopefully to help others—I began writing about the places we visited and the lessons we learned and this website, Sailingthesanjuans was born.

I don’t claim to be an expert, even if I occasionally sound like one. My advice is just that—my opinion, formed through trial and error. If you’re a budget-conscious trailer boater navigating these waters with family in tow, maybe some of what I’ve shared will help you avoid the mistakes we made.

Over time, I’ve also come to realize that many—perhaps most—of my readers may never actually set foot or boat in the San Juans. So, I do my best to make these stories entertaining, adding photos where I can, hoping that in some small way, I can bring a piece of these islands to anyone who dreams of them.

Whether you sail them, drive them, or simply imagine them—the San Juans are worth dreaming about.

 

Sucia Island, look closely, you can see boats anchored in every favorite hole. There is always room for one more.

Needless Expense to be Avoided

 

Bending brass Props

I hope I can save someone else the expense that I just brought upon myself. Some of you will recognize yourselves, but others will think, "What an idiot, anyone knows that." So all of the latter can just run along. This tip is for newbies and those who simply forgot. (that's me)

This weekend I went exploring (gunkholing) in extremely thin murky water

.  I was running slower than dead slow with the transmission in neutral except for little short one second shifts into gear to keep inching along.

The water was flat calm, which gave me confidence that I could simply back out, wrong thinking.

My thoughts were that if I bumped bottom, it would not matter at such a slow speed.  I also figured that with the prop not spinning I couldn't possibly do any damage. Wrong, wrong, wrong. And I know from past lapses in memory, and errors in judgment that what happened could, and probably would, happen again.

I bumped at a speed much slower than I dock at

 much, much slower, but with four and a half tons of mass, we slid and scraped before grinding to a stop.  Then, as near as I can tell, the prop was on top of a rock, and even though it wasn't turning it still got a little bend in the brass right at the tip. It probably happened when I leaned over the transom looking for rocks

After a close inspection, I found some fiberglass fibers exposed at several places along the bottom of the keel that need to be tucked in and repaired.

So what should I have done? Easy, I should have anchored and jumped in the dinghy with oars. The problem was, in the murky water, I couldn't see rocks that were only two feet below the surface, but I didn't know that I couldn't see, until crunch.

The other solution would be to quit gunkholing, and those of that persuasion know that it isn't going to happen soon.

So the advice is, Don't let your toys touch bottom. Or, 

if you don't want to pay, don't play.

If you look closely, you can see the leading edge of the prop is wrinkled a little.  Left over from my heating it and flattening the bend.   My big keel apparently wasn't big enough to protect it from sitting on a rock.

Click below to see a satellite view of Olga on Orcas Island

Princess Louisa Inlet - Chatterbox Falls - Skookumchuck Narrows - Malibu Rapids - Bad weather

Next summer our primary boat trip will be up to the Desolation Sound area, which we may skip and just go to Princess Louisa inlet.

There, I've taken my own advice and nailed it to the wall. Well actually I don't nail plans to the wall,  I have a pirate chart there. Posting on this blog will have to do.
Nail down that trip!    (Read my advice to myself)
No I don't have a chart yet, at least not a navigable one for the laptop, but I said I was going and that's the hard part. I really do feel a sense of relief  now that I have made the decision.

My next step is to make a mark on the calendar, oh boy, I'm hesitating, I don't know what date to go.
I need a calendar quick before my trip falls apart.

If I did my homework correctly, that red mark near the top is where
 Chatterbox falls and Princess Louisa Inlet is located

Anyone interested in a cruise up here will want to go to Active Captain and read the reviews.

My plan so far is to trailer the boat to Squalicum Harbor in Bellingham and then run the 135 or so miles up the coast to Jervis Inlet.  

I think 2-3 weeks is a good time frame, but family plans may interfere.
Read about the trip here >Malibu Rapids and Chatterbox Falls intinerary

Click below to see a satellite view of Princess Louisa Inlet and Malibu Rapids

Some Foggy Pictures of Rosario Strait and Thatcher Pass in the San Juan Islands

How to deal with fog in Rosario Strait

These pictures were from late July, so they are in the middle of a normal season. Don't let them scare you away, just be aware, plan ahead, and enjoy your outing.

This is looking southward at Rosario Strait, taken from the top of 

Eagle Cliff 

on Cypress Island, Thatcher Pass is the first inlet on the right, Lopez Pass is further down a ways past James Island. Notice the fog is in the middle of the strait. This is a light fog, probably only a mile or so wide, but if you were in your boat on either side of Rosario, it would look like a solid wall of white. This fog formed in about thirty minutes. In another few minutes, it could be almost gone or much, much, well, you know.

This is Rosario Strait from James Island (basically Thatcher Pass) looking across towards Cypress,  and up Guemes Channel.

 We cast off and entered this fog thirty minutes after the picture was taken. Two miles out we could no longer see James Island behind us, but we could see Anacortes in front of us. The ferry was really laying on the horn which is a little unnerving. See the boat at far left just entering the bank. This is the other side of the same fog bank as the previous picture, but from a sea level view.

This picture is looking towards Deception Pass and we are in the middle of Rosario Strait, up around Bird Rocks. 

I think the pass is behind what looks like a low white mountain to the right of the railing stanchion. I wanted to go through the pass and on to La Conner, but changed my mind after crossing over and finding the fog tight against the shore from Skyline Marina south. We were finishing up a relaxing five-day cruise, and I saw no reason to add a foggy finish. Notice how nice the water is on Rosario. Just two weeks earlier at this exact same place, we were slammed on the beam for forty-five minutes while crossing in warm sunny weather. We eventually took refuge by ducking behind Allan Island.  

You can have fog, you can have sunshine, flat water or big seas, and as a bonus, you could have it all together or any combination in a one-hour crossing.

The purpose of this posting was to suggest that you be prepared for whatever comes your way.  On this trip we simply went a different way home. For others, perhaps a good gps and lots of Dramamine is the answer.

Click below to see a satellite view of James Island

Butchart Garden by Sea

     

Not part of the San Juan's or even the Gulf Islands, 

Butchart Gardens should be on everyone's bucket list.

         I'll cover some of what I think are important elements for this adventure, but leave your trip planning to you.

• We stayed at Jones Island the night before as our jump off point, but Roche or Stuart are closer. I wanted to be near to our Haro Strait crossing just in case some weather or other issues came up. Nothing did.

• We planned our nine-mile 1 1/2 hour crossing of Haro Strait to match up with low wind forecasts and slack tide waters.

• Port of Sidney was our obvious Canada check-in place.

• We did have a Canadian chart in our plotter, a larger scale would have been nice but certainly not worth paying for.

• You really should have a dinghy or kayak, but a dinghy motor is not needed. You only paddle a quarter mile or much less from where you anchor.

• I planned to get to the garden early enough to anchor by 5pm, and then tour on the same day (before dark), and then again after dark.

• Tod Inlet is big; you will have no problem finding a place to anchor.

• Coming back, we carefully listened to the weather report for Haro Strait and took off at 6:30 am the next morning to beat out high winds. We never felt any wind or waves.

• Checking back in at Roche Harbor less than 24 hours after we left was simple and quick.

• It would have been very easy to extend this Canada visit to multiple days and destinations, but we had other plans back in the San Juans. for us, this Butchart visit was simply a quick overnighter. We will be back.

        Crossing Haro Strait was a cake walk, we followed our gps pointer straight to Sidney. 
 We had no discernible current set to counter, no swell to deal with. 

 The Port of Sidney customs dock is the first float when you clear the marina breakwater.

 No other boats were there, so we glided in, tied up, and picked up the phone to check in.  Check-in took a few minutes, they asked for our names, ages, boat name, and when we were leaving. Oh, and of course, they ask about firearms.  They give you a long number which you write on a piece of paper and tape to your boat window.  That's it, you are free to go.
We were in awe at the beauty and flowers at the Sidney Marina, not to mention all the very expensive big yachts.

For customs, just pick up the phone.

More pictures and story>>>

Did you know you can land your Dinghy at Lopez Village?

       Right along the bank in the center of the Village by the fudge shop 

is a short stretch of public beach.

(update 2024, the fudge shop is gone) 

 The property on each side of this beach is private, but the stairs are public  There are two little access places that I will locate in a minute. What this means is that you may anchor your boat and then come ashore by dinghy right in Lopez Village. You wont have to walk from one of the resorts almost a mile away in Fisherman Bay.

 

 The beach beyond this stairway in the background is private, but you may land your dinghy here and find yourself in the center of Lopez Village. Its only a hundred feet to the restrooms and free showers. The grocery store is five minutes.

This is a Google images snapshot of popular Fisherman Bay on Lopez Island. The red dot is located where the public stairs and beach are located. 

You don't need to walk over a mile from Fisherman Bay to get groceries.

The village is adjacent to the stairs, so you can get ice cream and fudge with minimal effort. The grocery store is about a one-block walk. Btw, only fifty yards from the stairs is the public restroom with a donations-only hot and cold shower. Suggested donation is $2, the water is really hot, and there is no timer, now how welcome and cool is that?

If you have a navigation chart, you will find the stairs is almost directly opposite the red dolphin nav. aid in marking the submerged spit at the bay entrance. (This means you will drive your boat within a couple of hundred feet of the stairs, you can't miss em.)

The other beach access is south of the red dot (toward Fisherman Bay) about 1-2 blocks, it's a low bank gravel parking lot with about fifty feet of frontage. There are no signs. The stretch between the two accesses is not a public beach. Be sure to drag your dinghy all the way up and tie it to the stairs.  At the highest tides, the beach is pretty much gone. 

Click below for a satellite view of  the Lopez Village beach access stairway

This Years Baby Deer Crop in the San Juans is alive and well on Lopez Island

San Juan Islands animal pictures

We came across this little guy while riding bikes around Lopez Island, a minute later it joined up with its twin and trotted off.

If you would like to see more of the fauna in the San Juan Islands, click here >More animals pics

Jones Island Mooring Buoy Breaks Away

      Wow, it almost got us! Well not really but maybe it almost got someone.

We visited Jones one night right after the Fourth of July, and we anchored between the park buoys

 and shore in only ten feet of water. We set our anchor well and tied to shore.  During the night, it really kicked up, the wind came from the north, blowing straight into the cove.  We were up at 3 am checking things, it wasn't until mid-morning that things calmed down.

Bid deal you say!

One week later, we were back at Jones, and we anchored in exactly the same place, but the park buoy we anchored behind was gone, it was laying, along with a bunch of rusty chain up at the top of the gangplank.

Flashback to the night a week earlier and I remember a rather large yacht tied up in front of us, and we were worried about ourselves dragging onto the beach.

  No one even considered that a park buoy would give way and set a vessel onto us.  BTW at Roche Harbor some years ago, a big Bayliner dragged into u we know firsthand how difficult things can get when boats don't stay where you want.

Here's the buoy, The shackle pin is missing.  It's hard to see in the picture, but the chain inside the tube is ready to give way also.  SURPRISE!

I have suggested before that before leaving an expensive boat tied to one of these things, one should back down on them just like setting your anchor. Hopefully that's what the last visitor did to this one.

It's interesting that the parks dept. installed new pilings and floats at Jones Island but ignored the obvious deteriorated chains.

Much later, I happened to be talking with a ranger and mentioned buoy maintenance and he said they were handled by a different department. Oh well!  I'm backing down even harder.

Anchoring at Roche Harbor for the Fourth of July

     Our plan was to leave La Conner the morning of the fourth, then stop for kayaking at Deception Pass, 

next grab a quick walk around town and ice cream at Friday Harbor, and make it to Roche about five o'clock.

Arriving at Roche we were not shocked or surprised that the place was really crowded. 

 Being a believer that you can always find room for one more boat, we took a quick tour of the rafting lines and decided to find a place to squeeze in out in the bay. After anchoring and checking out our swing and the swing of those around us I upped anchor and chose another nearby spot, this time very close to shore, but also with a better view. I set two hooks side by side to keep us off the near by rocks should the wind come up. One anchor would have been fine but I slept better for the extra five minutes' work.
The fireworks, as promised were very well done, the wind conveniently spun us around so that our cockpit faced the show and the smoke blew away from us.   All in all no complaints.

This pic although lacking something, does convey it was sunset.

Our dinghy is the odd one with the cool wood seat and centerboard trunk.

Roche sculpture along foot path by county dock

More sculpture

No rust, must be stainless steel.

Seeing a price tag with a sculpture brings out the art critic and connoisseur; feel free to purchase.

We finished the cruise with a stop over and hike at Stuart followed by a hot dog roast and  windy night anchored at Jones. 

The next day we ran over to hike and sail Sucia where we spent a  rather noisy evening at the dock on Fossil Bay.

 The fourth day, after a quick hike on Matia, and a drive by of the salmon pens at Deepwater Bay (Cypress), we were back at our slip in La Conner.

This was a pleasant, low key enjoyable little trip of about 110 miles.
(I really like my new laptop gps)  read about laptop gps here
BTW, the news Wed. night (three days after arriving back home) was that one of the 85 foot for sale yachts we were all ogling on the fourth burned and sunk at the dock at Roche.  It's really shocking (a little scary too) to see news pictures of a yacht you had just admired, and now sunk with just its charred stern above water next to the dock.

Click below to see a satellite view of Roche Harbor

How Long is Your Painter? Does it reach all the way to shore?

What is a Painter anyway?

You know, that short little rope tied to the front of your dinghy!

This may look like an unpleasant circumstance waiting for our return, but it is exactly what we planned.

Let me explain.  When we arrived many hours earlier at a much lower tide, we beached the dinghy and walked away just like so many other times. Knowing the rising tide would float our boat, and we were going for an all-day hike I ran my line up to the permanent driftwood pile, above the high water mark.

  It's true the dinghy will eventually float free and may wash up on shore, but the weather is fine and wakes are frowned upon in Echo Bay.

If I were really worried, I could have deployed a light anchor that does not dig in, then when we returned, I would have simply hauled it all to shore, dragging the anchor with it.

So what, you might say?

The point is, when you outfit your shore boat, you should anticipate needing a really long rope just in case you need it. My current dinghy has a fifty-foot floating line, and if I can't reach something solid, I go find a dog-bone-shaped rock and carry it to where I want to tie up. Some skippers carry a small dinghy anchor and rode, then simply carry it up the beach. And some carry their dinghy, but we don't anymore.

Having your dinghy float away doesn't always mean you will lose it, forcing you and your crew to swim out to your boat.  In popular anchorages, someone will probably come to your rescue.

Now, this next point is very important.  Conditions at the shoreline may change from flat, glassy water to two-foot waves in just minutes. A far-off storm can send waves your way, or a ship may pass by. The resulting pounding waves may flood your dinghy or seriously damage it.  With this in mind, there will be times and places where you should carry your dinghy up the beach to safety. It is very reassuring knowing your shore boat will be there waiting for you when you return.

Click below to see a satellite view of Sucia Island

How to launch at the Port of (fill in name) and the importance of having alternate plans

Never pee into the wind, check.
Never tug on Superman's cape, check.
Never buy a lottery ticket for an investment, check.
Never say never, check,  err-unchecked, err.

Never depend on the marina; check, check, and double-check.

Rest stop on way to La Conner for launching, and then on to the San Juans

In preparation for this seasons cruises I called ahead to the Port of Skagit County in La Conner to arrange for a travel lift launch. 

 Good news I'm told by the very nice lady on the phone, "We have a forklift that lifts 11,000 pounds and we are open until 6:30 pm."  Okay great, I'm thinking, we can get there around 3 pm and we only weigh 8500, perfect, oh yeah, how much?  "Only $20 or $25 if they have extra work."  Fantastic, for only $25 I don't have to dunk my trailer brakes in salt water, this is too good. (and it was)

Reality, or what really happened:
First the ports forklift  can only lift 5,000 lbs, and they didn't want to even try.  Second, they don't have a travel lift, but a  light duty overhead tram with a sling, and again they would not try.
My options are -- go away.

Next, at 3 pm we parked on the main drag outside the still-open La Conner chamber of Commerce, where I asked about private boat yards and was supplied with the telephone numbers for two marinas with big travel lifts. A quick phone call determined both businesses were willing to sling my boat for about $125 if I came back tomorrow.  I begged for compassionate emergency service, explaining I just drove for six hours depending on the ports promises only to hear, "Do you want to reserve a slot tomorrow, we have customers today."  "No thanks," I said.

Plan B, we quickly drove over Rainbow Bridge to Shelter Bay Marina to check out the boat ramp, only to find it high and dry with a falling tide that still had two more hours to go.

Plan C, we quickly drove back over Rainbow Bridge to the La Conner city ramp located almost directly under the bridge. 

 I asked a fisherman, who was fueling his boat out of a tank in the back of his pickup, how far the ramp extended. "To the end of the dock," was his answer.  Keeping in mind the tide was falling, I went to the far end of the float and with a boat hook began probing six feet down while moving up the ramp. Once many years ago I backed off the end of a ramp dropping the trailer about two feet, then became hung up on the end of the concrete. So, better safe than sorry, now I always probe or somehow determine I will have plenty of ramp.

With about two hours of falling tide water still ahead, a thirty five foot trailer and boat, a thirty foot float with a six foot depth in the middle, fours hours of daylight left, I said lets launch, and began rigging fenders and dock lines while the fisherman finished filling his boat with fuel.  When his pickup cleared the single-lane ramp, I backed down, and she floated free.  Five minutes later, my rig is locked up and parked in the city-provided spaces, and we are on board, motoring towards our waiting slip in Shelter Bay.

Total cost - launching and parking, $2.50 per day. Total frustration - not too much.
There is no moral here. My advice as always is, give yourself plenty of time for plans B, C, D....
BTW, I spent a full hour hosing and flushing my trailer with fresh water after retrieving it from the ramp parking lot later that day.
In the fall I will likely reverse the procedure, but try to do it near high tide.
I will probably mention something here unless it is really boring.

Click below to see a satellite view of Deception Pass and Cornet Bay launch ramp

Where is Cypress Head Campground and why should you camp there?

I stopped for a quick look around at Cypress Head.

There are quite a few campsites and trail access to all of Cypress Islands trail system.

With a cove on both sides of the head, you should be able to find some protection when anchored in one or the other.

The camping sites at Cypress Head have the best view I have ever seen, but exposure to wind goes with the view.

One side of the head has mooring balls, the other side nothing, but I would choose the side without a swell for an overnight visit.

 Cypress Head is on the east side of Cypress Island on Bellingham Channel.  It is a short kayak paddle from Guemes Channel or Washington Park in Anacortes

For those with an aversion to crossing Rosario Strait, Cypress Head, Pelican Beach and Saddlebag Island are your go-to choices.

What can boaters do when faced with persistent San Juan Islands fog and Rosario Strait must be crossed

This is a view down Guemes Channel across four mile wide Rosario Strait at what would be Thatcher Pass if you could see it.

That wall of white is creeping up the tip of Cypress Island.

You can navigate through the soup and wonder about ferries or turn like that cruiser did, and run around

 behind Cypress Island to cross Rosario Strait over to Peavine or Obstruction Passes.

 The detour adds only a little bit of time and three miles extra travel, but misses today's fog bank. This is a common situation. Further south at Lopez or Cattle Pass, or Deception Pass, it will likely be the same.

Here is a link to a foggy article that may enlighten some > Dealing with fog in the San Juans

Some pictures to Share to make you smile

Kind of a miserable day but a bright future

left side

right side

That time of year again


More cruising pictures worthy of viewing - click here > Lots of great San Juan images

Does the law require non-swimmers to wear life jackets (pfd) in the San Juan's - No it does not, but some folks on some boats must wear pfd's.

Oh boy, let's argue.

                  Seriously, you should be conversant with and follow pfd rules, they make sense and save lives.  

This article is a semi-non serious look at the actual usage on board cruiser vessels.

        First of all I'm not trying to make an argument but make a point of different thinking. (just for fun)
Here goes -

        If, and I mean if only one life jacket is worn on board, most would say it should be worn by a clumsy non swimmer because they will most likely need it

. In this intellectually challenged exercise I suggest that the one and only life jacket should be worn by the most capable person because no one else on board is likely to be able to save him.
       
             The most capable person will have to save himself when no one else is able, hence, he should wear the life jacket.  Because >> When the most capable person is gone the rest may perish, when the most capable person needs help, who will help him? So, with this way of thinking, we must preserve the most capable so that the less capable may then be helped.

       Was that clear? OK try this scenario  -- The skipper gets knocked overboard (crazy crew screws up) and is unconscious in the water without a pfd.  By the time the clueless crew can recover (if ever) him/her, it's too late.    Now, the remaining persons on board are at greater risk without the numero uno.

        Next scenario  --The clumsy, helpless crewman trips and goes in the drink without a pfd. The immensely capable skipper springs into action, rescues the klutz in minutes and saves the day.

        My backwards conclusion is that in the first scenario the skipper may have survived had he been wearing the only pfd, but the klumsy klutz crew probably would have survived without a pfd due to the skill of the skipper.

        What! What is he suggesting, that the skipper gets the only pfd? Outrageous! Blasphemy! What about the Master's responsibility to ship, crew and passengers - Keel haul the laggardly sot.

      On a serious note:
        Look around the docks where all the boats are coming and going and you invariably see the women and children  (even pooches) bundled up in the latest good looking approved flotation apparel. Makes sense, right? - save the hapless and helpless from succumbing to a maritime accident lurking around the next slip or piling. Look closely and many times you see the person stepping (we never jump do we) from boat to dock or dock to boat, handling lines, pushing off, keeping track of passengers, other boats, etc, etc, is not wearing a pfd. All the passengers that are seated and doing nothing are properly belted in, but the one person really in harm's way, the one person all others depend on, the one person the others may not be able to save - is not wearing a pfd at all.

       I need to end this tirade by saying that simply having pfd's on board may keep the regulators happy but won't help the unfortunate skipper over the side, while his helpless family watches him struggle.

        There are certain times (docking-working on deck) when all crew and skipper should be wearing safety gear - and that is just good seamanship.

Sobering thought!

Click below for a satellite view of Port Townsend

How many Anchors do you need for cruising in the San Juan Islands when Visiting the Marine Parks

One anchor!
Two!
More?

      The quick and easy answer is, "You need the same amount anywhere you go."

No help so far, okay, let's talk about a scenario that could be any of us.
You arrive at your first night's anchorage, a quiet little protected bay with a rocky bottom.

What a great vacation, hot dogs over a campfire onshore, some wine or beer, a really restful night's sleep, rich coffee in the morning, and then when you try to raise the anchor, your hooked to the biggest rock in the world. After hours of pulling from all directions, you finally give up and cut the line, ouch, 250 bucks worth of anchor and rode, gone.  Oh well, you're not going to let a lost anchor spoil a perfect vacation and off you go to the next idyllic spot in the San Juan's.
Now it really hits home, the dock is full, no one offers to or wants to raft your boat.  So you think, that's okay, I'll just go ashore in the dinghy, find an anchor-shaped rock, bring it back to the mother ship, and tie it to what's left of the cut rode. Except the rode is too short, and you need to stay on board to keep circling in the boat because no one in your crew (wife and children) is qualified to run the boat while you're rock hunting.  So your current ex-spouse rows to shore, and .... see where this is going?

What should happen is you break out a spare anchor and rode that's stored and ready to deploy once you tie off the bitter end.  Your admiring first spouse and children think you're a hero.

OK, dinghy scenario.  Your youngest children who have just mastered rowing are off somewhere nearby while you snooze or read a book.  Little do you know, but they just lost both oars, and the wind is quickly
Click below to read more

Solo Circumnavigation Under Sail Without an Engine No Less

It's true—I have officially joined the ranks of solo sailors. 

But before my head swells too much, I must admit my grand voyage was merely a circumnavigation of Coon Island. Still, I did it solo, and without a motor.

I cast off that melancholy mid-morning, just after breakfast, heading south. Almost immediately, I was met with a 1.5 mph adverse current that began dragging me backward. Fortunately, my 30-year-old, new-to-me 9.5-foot sailing dinghy performed admirably in the light airs, overcoming the current with ease. Soon, I was past the point of no return, rounding the tip of Coon Island while carefully avoiding the sunken breakwater barge.

Once around the point, my trusty vessel was suddenly caught in a swirling vortex that might have rattled a less experienced sailor.

 The tiller went unresponsive as we spun through several dizzying 360-degree turns. Desperate to regain control—and trying not to get clocked in the head—I used my free hand to tame the boom and backwind the mainsail. At last, we broke free from the barge’s swirling eddies and were off, rail down, on three or four swift tacks along the island’s western edge.

Just minutes after breakfast and with no food or water aboard, I was already nearing my final turn. Ahead lay a telling downwind romp back to the dock I had departed from a mere 1,500 seconds earlier

 Easing the mainsheet and slacking the outhaul, there was nothing left to do but bask in well-earned glory as I coasted toward the dock from the opposite direction of my departure.

As I handed my dock line to an admiring power boater, I was met with a warm greeting:

"I see your problem—you’ve got a loose nut on the end of your tiller."

One of two Coon Island floats, on shore are composting toilets, shelter, fire rings, and a few campsites.

       Coon Island is in the Multnomah Channel, a side shoot off the Columbia River. The entire half-mile-long 23-acre island  is a county park  (JJ Collins Marine Park)  and my favorite place to overnight near my home in Portland.

       Now that I have become infected with the circumnavigation bug, I am setting my sights on bigger and more challenging goals. This summer in the San Juans I will attempt Jones Island on July 5th, but I'm not promising any biggies such as Sucia, and of course Orcas is just a dream for my 9.5 sailing dinghy. (Maybe for Orcas, I'll bring my 2.5 hp Suzuki kicker, and a sandwich)
Loose nut indeed!
the rest of the story (I've sold the sailing dinghy and why I did it)

What is "Current Set" - The San Juan's and Puget Sound are full of potential Catastrophes - Ignornace is Bliss

        Is it really a close call if you don't know about it?  If a catastrophe almost happens, is it worthy to note?

        When your boat is drifting towards a lee shore, but still has two hours before running onto the rocks is it a big deal?
      Ignorance really is bliss, that's for sure.

         I don't know how many times I have almost sunk, no one does, like Donald Rumsfeld once said, "We don't know what we don't know."

      I know this though -- one time crossing Rosario Strait heading into Thatcher Pass, we were all staring out the front and not paying attention to our sideways set (side drift) when out of the corner of my eye I caught a movement that turned out to be rocks coming at us fast. (full flood must have been 3+ knots) The current was forcing us sideways straight onto the rocks of tiny Pointer Island. I swung hard over and pushed her to full throttle, our outboard barely pulled us away with one hundred feet and two or three seconds to spare. I shuddered thinking of my family on board and almost quit boating right then and there.

       Another time, just after leaving Sidney Spit to cross Haro Strait, when suddenly out of the dense fog loomed the green aid marking Mandarte Island.  Once again I had not paid enough attention to the current set and was almost swept onto the rocks.

       And again, once we ran out of gas in the "Narrows" and the current quickly whisked us towards an anchored construction barge under the new Tacoma Bridge.
 Quick action switching tanks averted an unpleasant incident with just minutes to spare.

     So, I have admitted to three times that I know of, where my inattention to currents has almost had disastrous results.  How many more are there that I don't know about, I don't know.

     My problem is, I tend to watch where the boat is pointed or where I want to go and not where we are really going.

     Ignorance is bliss, but is no way to skipper a boat.

You wouldn't cross in front of a ship making 6 knots,
so why pass barely upstream of rocks in a 6 knot current?

Click below for a satellite view of Saddlebag Island State Park