Shake Down Cruise

This was to be Shearwater’s first cruise. Bruce and Carol had sailed it before, but not on an overnight cruise. Bruce and Carol are experienced, tenured cruisers but to date, they’ve been ‘powerboaters’. Shearwater is a sailboat. A very capable sailboat, but one just recently purchased from Ohio with very little use over the past few years.




Bruce and I have sailed and power boated together for years. We’ve solved many boating problems together, the most notable one when we took a 21 foot bayliner to Alaska and broke a propeller between Petersburg and Juneau. Dead in the water with humpback whales surfacing all around us, and one headed right for the boat. We ended up thumping on the hull, not knowing how well those things can see. He dove mere yards from the boat and I clearly remember looking over the side as his giant body passed under our very small craft. With a little help from the last manned lighthouse in Alaska, we anchored in a quiet cove and changed the propeller. Only to find our only spare was the wrong rotation. We ended up screaming to Juneau with the engine full in reverse – and arrived on fumes with no gas to go another mile.



So a shakedown cruise on a 40’ sailboat? No problem.



Things started to go wrong when we tried to start the engine. It didn’t. Bruce coaxed it to life, then it died. Bruce switched the tank feeding the engine and mentioned that there may be a fuel problem (in retrospect a clear warning sign of what was yet to happen). The engine finally, and seemingly reliably, roared to life. All was good. For the moment.



The powercord was stowed, lines were removed, Bruce put the boat in reverse and just as I was about to jump aboard, the boat stopped moving. The tide was low – a minus 2.2 and we were firmly stuck on the bottom after moving about 3 feet. Aground. At the dock. So we waited and tried to warm the boat with clay pots (don’t ask).



Finally the flood tide began to make a difference and Shearwater did what all good boats do. They float. With no further excitement, we left the dock and headed out.



Bruce is just getting to know the boat, but in very short order he had the sail cover off and at the helm Carol headed the boat into the wind. The main was up and set immediately followed by the jib. We fell off the wind, killed the engine, and sailed.



The Passport 40 is a nice boat. It’s a very capable offshore sailboat and was very much in its element as the breeze freshened. On a single tack we crossed Rosario strait, tacked through Thatcher pass, then sailed up Lopez sound. There was another sailboat far in front of us and the competitive juices started flow. Let’s catch em. We were both towing dinghys and the boats were about the same size.



The wind started to pick up to about 15 – 20 knots. We don’t know exactly as the anemometer is on the list of ‘things not currently working’. Just off upright head I had the helm sitting on the leeward side, looking forward at the tell tails on the jib, striving for that perfect trim, and noticed with discomfort that the leeward shroud was dangling, very much disconnected from the deck.

Shrouds and stays hold the mast up. If a shroud fails at the wrong moment, the mast can come crashing down and ruin your entire day. At the moment, being on the leeward side, the shroud was not playing any part in ensuring the integrity of the rig. But as we were just about to tack, that would completely change and with a 20 knot wind and the rail buried in the water, the forces at play would likely have caused a dismasting. Fortunately Bruce had a spare pin, replaced it on the fly, and all was well, for the moment.



Bruce did find the cotter pin, a very straight cotter pin, in the gunnel next to where the shroud attaches to the deck. It’s an interesting lesson where misuse of 10 cent cotter pin – probably the smallest and cheapest part of any boat, nearly caused a dismasting.



With the dinghy faithfully following behind, we rounded upright head and tacked towards Friday Harbor, another potential problem solved.



At this point, the wind started to strengthen and a few times the boat was getting overpowered. I was having fun, but with two dogs aboard, things were getting a bit complicated in the cockpit as we tacked back and forth in the channel. We didn’t have our charts in the cockpit (Bruce and I have sailed this channel scores, if not hundreds of time), but it’s nice to keep an eye on the depth meter as we approach shore, trying to make to windward in a fairly narrow channel.



The depth meter would reliably read depth then show an errant (and shallow) number seemingly just for fun. I would shoot Bruce a glance and he’d say ‘it’s old, on the list of things not currently working and will be replaced in a couple of weeks’. Then we’d both think that there may be a reef in the general area and not knowing the depth, let’s tack right now.



We were really burying the leeward rail at this point and the breeze was freshening. Bruce’s instincts were good and he casually suggested that as we were getting close to Friday Harbor, perhaps we should just pack it in and motor. I was having fun and so were Carol and Jodi, and collectively we over rode his suggestion. It was a very fine day to sail and while we were a bit over powered, things were going well (for the moment).

We tacked a few times more, then decided that enough was enough and perhaps we should motor on in. At which point we noticed that the dinghy, which we had been towing, was nowhere to be seen. The line had parted and the dinghy was gone.



We doused the main, cranked up the engine and began to retrace our steps, searching for the tender. I was at the helm, Bruce as on the bow scanning the water for the dinghy and the engines RPM’s started to fluctuate. Then silence. No engine. “Bruce”, I said, “we have another problem”.

The boat had been purchased from a sailor in his mid 80's, and the last several years the boat had seen very little use.  It's probable that the diesel had been in the tanks for many years and between old fuel and sediment in the tanks, the fuel filters had sacrficed themselves and had done their job.  Once they had taken all the abuse they could, they stopped the flow of fuel to the engine.  Even though Bruce cleaned the filters, no more fuel could be coaxed from the tanks.  There was a clog somewhere and we were a true, engineless, sailboat.



We made the call to abandon our search for the dink and again tack upwind to Friday Harbor. Flying just the jib, we tacked and tacked and tacked. Jodi was at the helm and did a great job flying the tails, driving the boat to windward.  Sailing now mattered.  It was our only means of propulsion. 







Finally we entered Friday Harbor and began think through just how we dock a 40 foot, 8 ton boat in a crowded harbor with no engine. Fenders were put on both sides and we figured a port side landing would work best. Fortunately Leon was ashore on his boat and volunteered to give us a hand.



There was a huge, 180 foot private yacht, fresh from the yard at Delta. It was the first time the ‘Big Boss’ was aboard and here we were, no engine, and our best path to the dock meant cutting it rather close to what was probably a 25 million dollar brand spanking new mega yacht on its first cruise. This was going to be fun.



Fortunately the wind was beginning to die down and as we made our approach we furled the jib to de-power the boat and the actual landing was a bit anti-climatic. Just the way it should be.



An older fellow on a Bayliner came out to congratulate us “you just don’t see that anymore! You must be very experienced!”. Turns out it was rather high praise as this fellow, earlier in his life time, had delivered an 80 foot sailboat down the coast for Peter Fonda.



No engine, no Dinghy, and a growing list of ‘things not currently working’. But we were safe at the dock, and cold beers magically appeared. All was well. At the moment……

Ducks, Docs and the Falls

I'll try to keep this blog on topic - sailing and hiking - but there are some weekends that deserve a quick post even if we don't pursue those two passions.  Jodi's brother, Sister in law and niece visited from Portland and we played tourist in our back yard.  Jodi had planned out the weekend and the weather cooperated nicely.

A long walk kicked off Saturday followed by a 'Duck Tour'.  As a native seattlelite, I wasn't sure how I'd react to a canned tour in my own back yard, but it was downright fun.  'Captain Lunachick' was our driver/skipper/tour guide/historian/comedian/DJ/song leader and she was terrific.   The duck tours are on WWII amphibious vehicles and they give a 90 minute tour of Seattle.  An hour on land and 30 minutes on the water.  Group participation is the key and 'Lunachick' put her all into the performance - while all the time driving. 

Next on the agenda was Doc's Marina Grill over on Bainbridge where great wine, food, and friendship were pleasurably mixed together.  A wonderful evening.

Sunday morning's adventure was the falls.

I've been to Snoqualmie Falls dozens of times, but had never hiked down to the bottom of the waterfall.  While the falls are impressive from the top observation, they're even more impressive from below looking up.  And they may a great backdrop for pictures.  

All and all a fun weekend.

Topped off with a great brunch at the Road House with a very cool pancake

Walking From North Bend to Bellevue

We finally walked from North Bend to Bellevue. Well, not all at once. The trip up and over Squak was the final piece to the puzzle.




Last December we hiked the length of Rattlesnake Mountain and we’ve hiked the Preston Rail Trail from Preston to Snoqualmie. With the exception of a few road miles, those trails join North Bend to Preston. We’ve also hiked the Preston Rail Trail up to the summit of Tiger Mountain, as well as continued the old railroad grade from Preston to Issaquah.



Last January we hiked up and over Cougar Mountain, starting from the eastern side of Cougar in Issaquah and dropping down to the Bellevue side at the Red Town trail head.

Two weeks ago we hiked ‘up and over’ Tiger from the High Point trail head to the Paragliding landing area near the east side of Squak.



The only remaining section in this admittedly disjointed set of hikes between Bellevue and North Bend was the Squak mountain section. Squak Mountain sits between Tiger and Cougar Mountains. It’s one of the Issaquah ‘Alps’ (or Issaquah ‘Blobs’, depending on your view point).

We began the trail at the 'Sycamore' access in Issaquah.  That access is right from a neighborhood with virtually no parking at the trail head.  We were the only car there.  The trail starts to go up the East ridge of Squak.  With no points for creativity, the trail is named 'East Ridge Trail'.  We hiked roughly two miles up, gaining roughly 1100 feet or so in elevation and then rather than go all the way to the summit, we took the right fork on the trail to hike around the east side of the mountain.  Again, with zero creativity, the trail was named 'East Side Trail. 

The trail is fairly well maintained and there are peek a boo views of Tiger and the surrounding areas.  Not any single view to knock your socks off, but we only saw 2 other people on the first 4 miles of the hike.  The last mile or so we saw probably a half dozen people.  Nothing compared to the hoards on Si or Rattlesnake Ridge.  The trail is quiet and the aesthetics are pleasing.

We even found a geo cache quite by mistake.

We ended the trail at state route 900 where we had dead headed a car.  The nice part about this hike is that it both begins and ends within a couple of miles from Issaquah -- and where we needed to do some shopping.   Hiking and completing some chores.  Not a bad way to spend a Sunday.

The Morning Walk

Who would blog about a simple morning walk with the dogs?  It's something we do all the time -- but this was a great walk.  First, the venue -- a converted rail trail.  Roughly 2 miles one way on a gloriously sunny Saturday morning. 

We borrowed our next door neighbors dog who we thought was well behaved.  Turns out that 'Popeye', while in most other ways is an outstanding dog is a bit of a nut on a leash.
He's still a puppy in many ways and LOVES to run.

What made this particular morning walk was the weather and the transition from the previous week's weather.  It's been cold, rainy and the perfect weather for a fire in the fire place.  So when Saturday morning dawned with crystal blue skies, we headed out on our favorite nearby trail.

The flowers were out in force. 

We enjoyed them all the way to the end to the Falls overlook.

Then we turned around and enjoyed it again.  Bye!

A message

It's May and cruising plans are being formed.  Discussions are underway about when and where to go.  I wonder where T&J want to go?

Even delivery trips can be fun

Saturday morning dawned early and we made our way north to catch the 9:30 boat to Friday Harbor. For once we made it on time – no last minute heroics needed because we cut it too close.




After about an hour on the car deck with Rex, we arrived in Friday Harbor. Quick provisioning trip to Kings, fired up the boat and we pulled out of the Harbor. Unfortunately it was flat calm which precluded sailing.

Jodi enjoyed the scenery and Rex settled in for his long nap. Rex now knows the boat and has become very comfortable. On sunny days at the dock the foredeck is his spot. He can keep tabs on the coming and goings in the harbor while napping. Underway he’s in the cockpit, usually making good use of a pillow.

The trip to Sidney was uneventful. We caught the last of the ebb through Spieden channel and picked up about a knot and a half once we cleared Limestone Point. The trip across the straits was equally uneventful. No Orcas, no playful Dall’s porpoises, just a few Bald Eagles.



.Clearing customs was a snap and our assigned slip involved spinning the boat in a tight space and backing in. Which was when I noticed the bow thruster wasn’t working. Fortunately there was no wind and no current and the maneuver was pretty smooth.



I like Tsehum harbor. Van Isle Marina has an incredible spectrum of boats. Everything from Mega Yachts being worked on at Philbrooks boat yard to 20 foot funky wooden sailboats. And everything in-between. Pleasure, commercial, liveaboard, remote owners, it’s all here. The home ports range from Yukon Alaska to Reno, NV – all over the west boat owners keep there boats here and Philbrooks maintains them.

Philbrooks was the reason our boat is here. Over the next week the boat will get hauled, the bottom will be re-painted, new zincs installed, and our old style through hull fittings will be replaced with more modern ones less likely to fail. The old through hull fittings are a disaster waiting to happen. If one fails, the boat would likely sink and at 30 years old, we’ve been living on borrowed time.



After wandering the dock looking at boats, we headed up the dock to have an excellent dinner at the Restaurant at the head of the pier. It was crowded and happily noisy and the only spot for us was at the bar. The sunset was wonderful.

Sunday morning was blowing – the front had moved in overnight. We tidied up the boat, strapped on our packs, and took a 40 minute walk into Sidney and caught the noon (and only) ferry from Sidney back to Anacortes. Again on the car deck for about 3 hours (Rex, you owe me), I was able to get a bit of a nap. When you are prepared for it, spending time on the car deck isn’t bad. Armed with a full assortment of First Ascent gear, it’s warm.



Not a bad way to spend a weekend.