From "If God Made You"
By Five for Fighting (weird name I know, but the music is excellent.)
... If God made you
He's in love with me! ...
Today (8/29/11) we have completed four full months of living aboard Abby Normal. I am pleased to report that we are both very happy with our "floating hotel". She is a very comfortable accommodation. And Brad and I are getting along marvelously. It is true that you really need to pick the right partner in life or your choice will literally drive you crazy living in such tight quarters. I can't imagine being with anyone else but Brad!
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Bull Harbor Jellies Come A-Knocking!
We anchored at Bull Harbour, which is on Hope Island at the northern end of Vancouver Island. I suspect the island was named as such because the mariners who named her were hoping for good weather to make a safe passage around Cape Scott the following day. (We were too.) The harbor was named as such because way back when it was full of bull seals. Not so today. We saw nary a one.
But what we DID see was millions and millions of jellyfish late in the afternoon swirling and surrounding our boat. They were fascinating to watch, what with all of their twirling and swirling, and their sheer numbers! It was like being in a thick soup of wiggling, writhing translucent sea creatures. (Thank God we hadn't tried to go swimming!) I took several videos of them that I hope to share with you after we return home. Quite an amazing sight, I assure you.
Later that evening we played some Scrabble and then turned to our respective books to do a little reading before bedtime. After a bit of reading, we both realized something was thumping on our hull. It wasn't real hard knocking, not terribly insistent, but just a bit timid. I thought perhaps one of the people from the neighboring boats was tentatively rapping on our hull to get our attention, but we couldn't see anyone out there. It stopped for a bit, several seconds or so but less than a minute, and then started again. How odd!
Brad threw on some shoes, turned on the foredeck lights, and wandered topside in search of the mysterious source of the thumping. Nothing. He came back to the stern and knelt on the swim platform, looking through the water at the rudder. Nothing amiss there that he could see.
I said, tongue in cheek, "Maybe the jellyfish are knocking. Trying to get us to come out and play? Or maybe they are trying to crawl up the side of the boat to colonize some new territory and they keep falling off and thumping as they fall???"
Perhaps I shouldn't have verbalized this thought because we both started thinking of the possibility of sinister intentions of unbeknownst sea monsters lurking below us, just waiting to "get us". (Kind of like telling ghost stories to each other when you are a kid.)
Brad said, "I'll start the engine and go forward and backward a bit to scare off whatever is doing it." I didn't like that idea and talked him out of it as I feared we might foul our prop on whatever was underndeath us.
I thought the sound had something to do with our steering linkage but as yet I couldn't prove it. Since our boat had drifted right over our anchor, (it was dead calm outside), we thought perhaps the anchor rode had wrapped itself around the rudder somehow, (either that or the sea monsters were trying to crawl up our anchor rode.) So Brad pulled up about 30 feet of rode but clearly it wasn't wrapped around the rudder. However, while he was up at the bow pulling on the rode, I was at the stern and noticed that the thumping sound was becoming more rhythmic. I asked Brad, "Did you center the wheel before turning everything off after we got here?" Through the window, I could see the wheel turning ever so slightly. Just as Brad was answering me, the autopilot started beeping and it displayed "PT". Ah! The dastardly culprit had at last revealed itself! Brad had forgotten to turn off the autopilot and our helpful buddy "Auto" was just trying to steer us ineffectually to parts unknown! Whew! The sea monsters were NOT out to get us after all. We had a hearty laugh at ourselves and went to bed.
But what we DID see was millions and millions of jellyfish late in the afternoon swirling and surrounding our boat. They were fascinating to watch, what with all of their twirling and swirling, and their sheer numbers! It was like being in a thick soup of wiggling, writhing translucent sea creatures. (Thank God we hadn't tried to go swimming!) I took several videos of them that I hope to share with you after we return home. Quite an amazing sight, I assure you.
Later that evening we played some Scrabble and then turned to our respective books to do a little reading before bedtime. After a bit of reading, we both realized something was thumping on our hull. It wasn't real hard knocking, not terribly insistent, but just a bit timid. I thought perhaps one of the people from the neighboring boats was tentatively rapping on our hull to get our attention, but we couldn't see anyone out there. It stopped for a bit, several seconds or so but less than a minute, and then started again. How odd!
Brad threw on some shoes, turned on the foredeck lights, and wandered topside in search of the mysterious source of the thumping. Nothing. He came back to the stern and knelt on the swim platform, looking through the water at the rudder. Nothing amiss there that he could see.
I said, tongue in cheek, "Maybe the jellyfish are knocking. Trying to get us to come out and play? Or maybe they are trying to crawl up the side of the boat to colonize some new territory and they keep falling off and thumping as they fall???"
Perhaps I shouldn't have verbalized this thought because we both started thinking of the possibility of sinister intentions of unbeknownst sea monsters lurking below us, just waiting to "get us". (Kind of like telling ghost stories to each other when you are a kid.)
Brad said, "I'll start the engine and go forward and backward a bit to scare off whatever is doing it." I didn't like that idea and talked him out of it as I feared we might foul our prop on whatever was underndeath us.
I thought the sound had something to do with our steering linkage but as yet I couldn't prove it. Since our boat had drifted right over our anchor, (it was dead calm outside), we thought perhaps the anchor rode had wrapped itself around the rudder somehow, (either that or the sea monsters were trying to crawl up our anchor rode.) So Brad pulled up about 30 feet of rode but clearly it wasn't wrapped around the rudder. However, while he was up at the bow pulling on the rode, I was at the stern and noticed that the thumping sound was becoming more rhythmic. I asked Brad, "Did you center the wheel before turning everything off after we got here?" Through the window, I could see the wheel turning ever so slightly. Just as Brad was answering me, the autopilot started beeping and it displayed "PT". Ah! The dastardly culprit had at last revealed itself! Brad had forgotten to turn off the autopilot and our helpful buddy "Auto" was just trying to steer us ineffectually to parts unknown! Whew! The sea monsters were NOT out to get us after all. We had a hearty laugh at ourselves and went to bed.
All Aglow with Bioluminescence
Brad has a penchant for peeing off our swim platform. A harmless hobby, I suppose, as long as one doesn't fall overboard. Were it not for this quirky habit of his, we probably never would have noticed the incredible beauty awaiting us below.
One night Brad yelled, "Come out here! Come out here!" Being the obedient wife that I am, I said "Why?" (I was comfortably ensconced on the couch, happily reading my Kindle, cozy and loathe to move.) "You just gotta see this!" he said. (Like I haven't seen him peeing before???) Okay already. So I got up and came outside. He was right. It was AWESOME!
By the time I got there he had run out of urine and so was spraying the stern hose across the water. The surface lit up with a beautiful blue-green glow. Cool! We got out a kayak paddle and slapped the water with it, making mesmerizing, glowing splash patterns, delighting us both. We were giggling like 10-year olds! Such fun!
Now each night, I ask for a full report when Brad goes out for his pee. So far the dinoflagellates have only deigned to favor us with two nights of light shows, but we'll keep checking and hoping for more...
One night Brad yelled, "Come out here! Come out here!" Being the obedient wife that I am, I said "Why?" (I was comfortably ensconced on the couch, happily reading my Kindle, cozy and loathe to move.) "You just gotta see this!" he said. (Like I haven't seen him peeing before???) Okay already. So I got up and came outside. He was right. It was AWESOME!
By the time I got there he had run out of urine and so was spraying the stern hose across the water. The surface lit up with a beautiful blue-green glow. Cool! We got out a kayak paddle and slapped the water with it, making mesmerizing, glowing splash patterns, delighting us both. We were giggling like 10-year olds! Such fun!
Now each night, I ask for a full report when Brad goes out for his pee. So far the dinoflagellates have only deigned to favor us with two nights of light shows, but we'll keep checking and hoping for more...
Sunday, August 28, 2011
How 'bout the outside?
Yes folks, we have departed from the inside passage, as advertised. But if you had read our itinerary, you would have expected this departure from the "advertised" title of this blog. Anyway, we decided to "bite the bullet" and "go for it"! We heard that it might be a little late in the season to do the outside of Vancouver Island but we felt that if we wussed out, we would remember this opportunity and regret that we had been "pussies" so we went for it.
Let me say right off that I LOVE my QUEAZ-AWAYs! They are elastic bracelets with pressure points that go three fingers down from the first crease in your wrist. Without these, I think I would be a sick puppy! I put them on every morning after we leave our anchorage just when I first start noticiing the swells and I don't take them off till we are entering the next anchorage and well out of the full force of the swells. It doesn't mean I can read a book or knit a sweater, but I can get through 4 to 6 hours of constant turbulence without upchucking or even feeling like I might. And I have no problem eating so they are wonderful!
Yes, it is "Fogust in Tofino", as I was considering naming this piece, and yes, it is true that August is known for fog. We are living witnesses! Today we spent five full hours in full-on, heavy fog. We left Hot Springs Cove in the fog and it lasted the ENTIRE trip to Tofino. It only cleared for us literally as we entered the marina where we currently are. It was tedious. It was mind-numbing. It was stressful! We had to maintain a constant watch to ensure we didn't run into an adrift sport fishing boat, or that a high-powered, super fast powerboat didn't ram into us, or that we didn't hit any flotsam such as logs, massive kelp bunches, or sea lions having sex. (Not that we saw any boaters mid-voyage, but we did see a few at either end of our day.) And yes, we narrowly missed a pair of these amorous creatures on the surface frolicking about and completely oblivious to their surroundings or the boat (us) that was about to run them down! I was driving at the time and it really freaked me out (especially after the whale encounter last month. At least if we had hit them it wouldn't have been as catastrophic.)
It is late so I don't want to type much longer, but let me say that the water on the north end of Vancouver Island is BROWN! Just like the tannic water we've seen in lakes and rivers in many inland places, not out here in the ocean. Very disappointing! We don't know if that is normal or some weird thing or what. Bull Harbour had nice, blue-green water and when we got to Santa Gertrudis the water had finally returned to this nice blue-green state. If anybody knows the answer, we'd love to hear.
We are tired so we will retire for now, and hope to write more tomorrow. I have at least one story worth sharing but we're both just plain tired. Love to you all!
Let me say right off that I LOVE my QUEAZ-AWAYs! They are elastic bracelets with pressure points that go three fingers down from the first crease in your wrist. Without these, I think I would be a sick puppy! I put them on every morning after we leave our anchorage just when I first start noticiing the swells and I don't take them off till we are entering the next anchorage and well out of the full force of the swells. It doesn't mean I can read a book or knit a sweater, but I can get through 4 to 6 hours of constant turbulence without upchucking or even feeling like I might. And I have no problem eating so they are wonderful!
Yes, it is "Fogust in Tofino", as I was considering naming this piece, and yes, it is true that August is known for fog. We are living witnesses! Today we spent five full hours in full-on, heavy fog. We left Hot Springs Cove in the fog and it lasted the ENTIRE trip to Tofino. It only cleared for us literally as we entered the marina where we currently are. It was tedious. It was mind-numbing. It was stressful! We had to maintain a constant watch to ensure we didn't run into an adrift sport fishing boat, or that a high-powered, super fast powerboat didn't ram into us, or that we didn't hit any flotsam such as logs, massive kelp bunches, or sea lions having sex. (Not that we saw any boaters mid-voyage, but we did see a few at either end of our day.) And yes, we narrowly missed a pair of these amorous creatures on the surface frolicking about and completely oblivious to their surroundings or the boat (us) that was about to run them down! I was driving at the time and it really freaked me out (especially after the whale encounter last month. At least if we had hit them it wouldn't have been as catastrophic.)
It is late so I don't want to type much longer, but let me say that the water on the north end of Vancouver Island is BROWN! Just like the tannic water we've seen in lakes and rivers in many inland places, not out here in the ocean. Very disappointing! We don't know if that is normal or some weird thing or what. Bull Harbour had nice, blue-green water and when we got to Santa Gertrudis the water had finally returned to this nice blue-green state. If anybody knows the answer, we'd love to hear.
We are tired so we will retire for now, and hope to write more tomorrow. I have at least one story worth sharing but we're both just plain tired. Love to you all!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Glacier Bay is a Must See!
(This is a story I meant to post about a month ago and somehow it slipped through the cracks.)
Glacier Bay deserves to be on everyone's "bucket list." In summer the area is restricted to no more than 24 boats plus a few cruise ships on any given day. Considering that the park covers 3.3 million acres, that means darn little human interference in the area. The wildlife are truly free to do what comes naturally to them and the lucky few of us that are permitted entry have a feast for the eyes!
This is a favorite area to the humpback whales. They are as prevalent as mosquitos here. We were able to see breaching whales every single day we were there. And sometimes we saw them a little too close for comfort. Anchored at Blue Mouse Cove, a whale breached about 50 feet from our boat, and then headed straight for us. I said a quick prayer that it would turn sharply and/or not surface directly under us, or get caught on our anchor rode and pull us around the neighborhood. Within a minute or less, the whale surfaced again just 20 feet from our stern, and again it was coming straight for us. Screaming and excitement ensued! I videoed most of this so when we get home I hope to figure out how to post it. (We need a high-speed internet connection for that.) Fortunately, this lovely whale didn't hit us or take us on a joy ride. (Note that at this stage of our relationship with the whales, we still thought they were wonderful and enjoyed seeing them up close!) Apparently, he/she was well aware of exactly where our boat was and was quite capable of avoiding us. We also kayaked fairly close to several whales later that day. They always seemed to know just where we were and how much distance to keep between us and them.
Grizzlies are also commonplace in these parts. We have video of a nice big one in this same cove (Blue Mouse Cove) that I hope to share at the end of this great voyage. Brad and I are both amazed how the bears, the hikers, and the campers manage to coexist without any unpleasant nastiness.
There are also lots and lots of sea otters in Glacier Bay. They are just so darling (not to mention the fact that they can't eat you or crush you!) They lay on the surface doing the back float with their heads, front paws and back flippers out of the water. They often have their babies on their bellies, loving and hugging them. And they are always attentive to passing boats, periscoping their heads as high out of the water as possible to get the best look at you they possibly can. So cute!
There are plenty of waterfowl here too. Tufted puffins and horned puffins are colorful and rare. Bald eagles, like the whales, are like mosquitoes. Ravens, loud and obnoxious, are much more prevalent than seagulls here and don't seem to be afraid of humans at all.
Glaciers and mountains abound in Glacier Bay. (Okay, that was a "duh!") The icy terminus of the glaciers are mesmerizing and the creaks and snaps and pops emanating from them are eerie and fascinating. I could gaze at these glaciers for hours. I took voluminous pictures. I only whish I could come back in the winter to see this area under a blanket of fresh snow. It must be truly awe-inspiring.
As for the weather while we were there: The first two days were nice, mostly sunny days. The last five days were mostly rainy, with clouds almost reaching the water. We did break down and hike and kayak in the rain, but our favorite times were definitely the sunny ones when you could see all of the stunning mountains surrounding the bay.
The park service does a very nice job at Glacier Bay. They have good movies and videos that are on demand and several documentaries they show at periodic intervals during the day and evening and a different ranger talk each evening. The food at the lodge there was quite good. Brad and I both highly recommend this magical place!
Glacier Bay deserves to be on everyone's "bucket list." In summer the area is restricted to no more than 24 boats plus a few cruise ships on any given day. Considering that the park covers 3.3 million acres, that means darn little human interference in the area. The wildlife are truly free to do what comes naturally to them and the lucky few of us that are permitted entry have a feast for the eyes!
This is a favorite area to the humpback whales. They are as prevalent as mosquitos here. We were able to see breaching whales every single day we were there. And sometimes we saw them a little too close for comfort. Anchored at Blue Mouse Cove, a whale breached about 50 feet from our boat, and then headed straight for us. I said a quick prayer that it would turn sharply and/or not surface directly under us, or get caught on our anchor rode and pull us around the neighborhood. Within a minute or less, the whale surfaced again just 20 feet from our stern, and again it was coming straight for us. Screaming and excitement ensued! I videoed most of this so when we get home I hope to figure out how to post it. (We need a high-speed internet connection for that.) Fortunately, this lovely whale didn't hit us or take us on a joy ride. (Note that at this stage of our relationship with the whales, we still thought they were wonderful and enjoyed seeing them up close!) Apparently, he/she was well aware of exactly where our boat was and was quite capable of avoiding us. We also kayaked fairly close to several whales later that day. They always seemed to know just where we were and how much distance to keep between us and them.
Grizzlies are also commonplace in these parts. We have video of a nice big one in this same cove (Blue Mouse Cove) that I hope to share at the end of this great voyage. Brad and I are both amazed how the bears, the hikers, and the campers manage to coexist without any unpleasant nastiness.
There are also lots and lots of sea otters in Glacier Bay. They are just so darling (not to mention the fact that they can't eat you or crush you!) They lay on the surface doing the back float with their heads, front paws and back flippers out of the water. They often have their babies on their bellies, loving and hugging them. And they are always attentive to passing boats, periscoping their heads as high out of the water as possible to get the best look at you they possibly can. So cute!
There are plenty of waterfowl here too. Tufted puffins and horned puffins are colorful and rare. Bald eagles, like the whales, are like mosquitoes. Ravens, loud and obnoxious, are much more prevalent than seagulls here and don't seem to be afraid of humans at all.
Glaciers and mountains abound in Glacier Bay. (Okay, that was a "duh!") The icy terminus of the glaciers are mesmerizing and the creaks and snaps and pops emanating from them are eerie and fascinating. I could gaze at these glaciers for hours. I took voluminous pictures. I only whish I could come back in the winter to see this area under a blanket of fresh snow. It must be truly awe-inspiring.
As for the weather while we were there: The first two days were nice, mostly sunny days. The last five days were mostly rainy, with clouds almost reaching the water. We did break down and hike and kayak in the rain, but our favorite times were definitely the sunny ones when you could see all of the stunning mountains surrounding the bay.
The park service does a very nice job at Glacier Bay. They have good movies and videos that are on demand and several documentaries they show at periodic intervals during the day and evening and a different ranger talk each evening. The food at the lodge there was quite good. Brad and I both highly recommend this magical place!
A Caving We Will Go!
What luck! Brad was perusing our guide book and ran across an article about El Capitan Cave. Luckily for us, we were cruising right past it the very next day. And better yet, there was a USFS dock right there. Sweet! And even better still, there was nary a boat using it so we had it to ourselves! This turned out to be a really good thing as our boat took up the whole dock. Man, did we luck out! A free dock. No need to haul out the dinghy or the kayaks to get ashore.
El Capitan USFS volunteers give three tours per day of the cave. We got there on Saturday too late for the last one of the day and sadly, they do not give tours on Sunday. Seems our luck had just run out. We decided to climb the 370 steps to the entrance just to get a little exercise and check it out. Good thing we did. When we got to the entrance, the tour party of four was just getting ready to go in. We spent a half an hour talking to the guides while the guests caught their breath from the steep ascent. They could't take us stragglers as they had no extra hardhats and lights to give us. Besides, we weren't expecting to go in and hence didn't have on enough clothing to stay warm and dry inside. When we mentioned that we were cave divers from Florida (way back when in our past lives), one of the guides, warmed right up to us and offered to give us an "off the books" tour the next day. Super sweet!!! Our luck just got reinstated.
The next morning we were geared up and ready to go. Our guide gave us a great tour and we are forever grateful. El Capitan is the longest known cave in Alaska. We saw some nice examples of flowstone, bacon, and some neat calcium crystals. Quite a bit of swiss cheese-like holes. It looked like an awesome cave requiring a lot more exploration in the future. Sure wish we could help with mapping it out but alas, we have more adventures down the water to explore. So we had to shove off and leave this magical place for the local spelunkers to enjoy.
El Capitan USFS volunteers give three tours per day of the cave. We got there on Saturday too late for the last one of the day and sadly, they do not give tours on Sunday. Seems our luck had just run out. We decided to climb the 370 steps to the entrance just to get a little exercise and check it out. Good thing we did. When we got to the entrance, the tour party of four was just getting ready to go in. We spent a half an hour talking to the guides while the guests caught their breath from the steep ascent. They could't take us stragglers as they had no extra hardhats and lights to give us. Besides, we weren't expecting to go in and hence didn't have on enough clothing to stay warm and dry inside. When we mentioned that we were cave divers from Florida (way back when in our past lives), one of the guides, warmed right up to us and offered to give us an "off the books" tour the next day. Super sweet!!! Our luck just got reinstated.
The next morning we were geared up and ready to go. Our guide gave us a great tour and we are forever grateful. El Capitan is the longest known cave in Alaska. We saw some nice examples of flowstone, bacon, and some neat calcium crystals. Quite a bit of swiss cheese-like holes. It looked like an awesome cave requiring a lot more exploration in the future. Sure wish we could help with mapping it out but alas, we have more adventures down the water to explore. So we had to shove off and leave this magical place for the local spelunkers to enjoy.
VERY Close Encounter of the Third (Humpback) Kind
I've taken slight liberty with the lyrics to "New York Minute" by Don Henley, my favorite artist because his song reminds me of our encounter:
...
In an Alaskan minute, everything can change.
In an Alaskan minute, things can get a little strange.
In an Alaskan minute, everything can change!
...
It could have changed for us a bit too permanently, but fortuately, it did not!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was one of those rare days made for sailing. You just don't get that many of them when you are cruising in the southeast Alaskan archipelago. Too much land surrounding you and often the channel is too narrow. Too much wind or too little wind. Or wind from the direction you want to go or from directly behind you, and thus not sailable. This day was a lucky exception. Plenty of wind from the right direction and a 15-mile wide strait to cross.
When the wind reached 12 knots (any less and it's just not worth it), we hoisted our sails and turned off the engine. Ah! The peace and quiet. Such a pleasant and delightful change from the unending thrum of our diesel engine. All is right with the world. Only the howl of the wind, an occasional flap of the sails as a gust hits them, the sound of waves slapping against our hull, the whirring sound of our fixed prop turning as we speed through the water, and me screaming, "Aaaah! Too much heel! Too much heel! Make it stop! Make it stop!!!"
Our heel meter indicated we were vascillating between 15 and 20 degrees. In my mind, we were about to tip over. Scary! (Can you tell I hate too much heel? Brad did not seem bothered by it in the least.) The winds were now gusting up to 25 knots, with the average between 18 to 22. I begged Brad to make the heeling stop and he did so by putting in a reef in both the main and jib. Ah! Only 10 degrees heel and I am happy. Of course, that meant our speed decreased accordingly from 7 knots to 5.6 but that was just fine by me.
We were sailing a beam reach from Red Bluff Bay on Baranof Island across Chatham Strait to Honeydew Cove off Kuiu Island. Once we got north of Kingsmill Point on Kuiu Island, the wind shifted as predicted (to match the topography) so we were able to shake out the reefs in our sails. We then would sail a broad reach until it would be time to turn south to our anchorage destination or the wind died out, whichever came first.
Shortly after we removed the reefs, we both saw a whale spout dead ahead but way out in the distance, probably a half mile or more ahead. We both watched intently, scanning ahead, to see where the whale came up next so we could determine its direction of travel. We watched and watched, scanning ahead side to side, but we didn't catch another sighting. After a few minutes, we both gave up looking. (Whales can hold their breath for up to 20 minutes so it is common to see a blow and then not see another. And sometimes they come up with virtually no spray at all so you don't have a chance of spotting them.)
We were cruising along at a nice clip, about 6 knots, which was good for our boat so we were pleased. (As you may have guessed, it's not a racer.) I spotted a large cruise ship about 3 miles to port. Other than that, there were no other visual distractions. I scanned back towards the bow and screamed "WHALE!" Not just one, but TWO humpback whales surfaced about 60 feet in front of us and just ever so slighlty to starboard. They were lolligagging on the surface, their backs perpendicular to us, taking their sweet time, heading ever so slowly to port, meaning a direct, head-on collision!
From lessons learned a few weeks ago (which I will explain later), Brad immediately started our engine so the whales could hear us. This had no effect on their behavior, and, since we were closing in on real disaster within seconds, we had to do something else - and FAST! Brad said "I'll turn!" I thought to myself, if we turn to port we might hit them if they speed up since that is the way they are headed, not to mention the fact that we will most likely jibe violently (which can break the rigging). If we turn to starboard, we will hit them for sure since we can't turn on a dime. So I yelled "REVERSE! REVERSE! REVERSE!" Brad did so without hesitation and gave it full reverse. (Note that this only slowed us down as we had full sails out.) The resulting cavitation finally got the whales attention! The dorsal fins shimmied back and forth violently and they dove in an instant, flapping their flukes just 20 feet from our bow. We sailed right over their splash ripples and bubbles. Crisis averted!
During this, there had been no time to be scared. There was only time for action. We were in survival mode. Now that it was over, we had an overabundance of adrenalin to deal with. Brad said, "Man! I need a drink!" We both did, but of course, we didn't. We were so very happy to be alive and completely unscathed from this very near miss. I couldn't help but think of my old friend Laura who is deathly afraid of being on the water and of all the sea creatures lurking below who might reach up and smite her. I could just hear her saying, "I TOLD YOU SO!"
Like the conservative, safety-conscious people we are, we analyzed the scenario. We suspect that the whales could not hear us since we were sailing. We knew noise is important for safety. Whales avoid boats and even kayaks as much as possible, but they have to be aware of your presence. We leared this from a recent incident. A couple on a sailboat very near the town of Hoonah (which was just five miles from where we had been earlier) was rescued after a whale encounter. They reported that they had turned off their engine to watch the nearby whales as they drifted. A whale punched their keel up through the bottom of their sailboat, causing it to sink abruptly. They were rescued by a passing fishing boat, but their boat was a total loss.
So why didn't turning the engine on fix the problem? We think it was because of the cruise ship that was so near. Cruise ships make an overwhelming amount of underwater noise with their massive engines and propellers. We are sure this kind of close encounter doesn't happen very often because if it did, someone would surely have invented a whale whistle for sailboats by now (like a deer whistle for cars).
Now, when we see a whale spout, we both flinch! We'd be happy if we never, ever saw another whale but unfortunately, in these waters at least, they seem to be everywhere...
P.S. NOTE: Abby Normal is a possible WHALE MAGNET. Yesterday, as we were motoring our way to Craig, Alaska, (which is where we are now) we came upon a sleeping humpback. I kid you not. It was about 70 feet away from us on our starboard side. When they sleep, they hover at the surface and take what would appear to be shallow breaths, ie. no spraying. When we first spotted it, we didn't realize it was sleeping so Brad tried the trick of full reverse so the noise made by the cavitation would jolt a reaction from it. It didn't. That's when we realized it was in a deep sleep. So at least we didn't have to worry about it swimming along and coming up underneath us. No threat. What a relief!
...
In an Alaskan minute, everything can change.
In an Alaskan minute, things can get a little strange.
In an Alaskan minute, everything can change!
...
It could have changed for us a bit too permanently, but fortuately, it did not!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was one of those rare days made for sailing. You just don't get that many of them when you are cruising in the southeast Alaskan archipelago. Too much land surrounding you and often the channel is too narrow. Too much wind or too little wind. Or wind from the direction you want to go or from directly behind you, and thus not sailable. This day was a lucky exception. Plenty of wind from the right direction and a 15-mile wide strait to cross.
When the wind reached 12 knots (any less and it's just not worth it), we hoisted our sails and turned off the engine. Ah! The peace and quiet. Such a pleasant and delightful change from the unending thrum of our diesel engine. All is right with the world. Only the howl of the wind, an occasional flap of the sails as a gust hits them, the sound of waves slapping against our hull, the whirring sound of our fixed prop turning as we speed through the water, and me screaming, "Aaaah! Too much heel! Too much heel! Make it stop! Make it stop!!!"
Our heel meter indicated we were vascillating between 15 and 20 degrees. In my mind, we were about to tip over. Scary! (Can you tell I hate too much heel? Brad did not seem bothered by it in the least.) The winds were now gusting up to 25 knots, with the average between 18 to 22. I begged Brad to make the heeling stop and he did so by putting in a reef in both the main and jib. Ah! Only 10 degrees heel and I am happy. Of course, that meant our speed decreased accordingly from 7 knots to 5.6 but that was just fine by me.
We were sailing a beam reach from Red Bluff Bay on Baranof Island across Chatham Strait to Honeydew Cove off Kuiu Island. Once we got north of Kingsmill Point on Kuiu Island, the wind shifted as predicted (to match the topography) so we were able to shake out the reefs in our sails. We then would sail a broad reach until it would be time to turn south to our anchorage destination or the wind died out, whichever came first.
Shortly after we removed the reefs, we both saw a whale spout dead ahead but way out in the distance, probably a half mile or more ahead. We both watched intently, scanning ahead, to see where the whale came up next so we could determine its direction of travel. We watched and watched, scanning ahead side to side, but we didn't catch another sighting. After a few minutes, we both gave up looking. (Whales can hold their breath for up to 20 minutes so it is common to see a blow and then not see another. And sometimes they come up with virtually no spray at all so you don't have a chance of spotting them.)
We were cruising along at a nice clip, about 6 knots, which was good for our boat so we were pleased. (As you may have guessed, it's not a racer.) I spotted a large cruise ship about 3 miles to port. Other than that, there were no other visual distractions. I scanned back towards the bow and screamed "WHALE!" Not just one, but TWO humpback whales surfaced about 60 feet in front of us and just ever so slighlty to starboard. They were lolligagging on the surface, their backs perpendicular to us, taking their sweet time, heading ever so slowly to port, meaning a direct, head-on collision!
From lessons learned a few weeks ago (which I will explain later), Brad immediately started our engine so the whales could hear us. This had no effect on their behavior, and, since we were closing in on real disaster within seconds, we had to do something else - and FAST! Brad said "I'll turn!" I thought to myself, if we turn to port we might hit them if they speed up since that is the way they are headed, not to mention the fact that we will most likely jibe violently (which can break the rigging). If we turn to starboard, we will hit them for sure since we can't turn on a dime. So I yelled "REVERSE! REVERSE! REVERSE!" Brad did so without hesitation and gave it full reverse. (Note that this only slowed us down as we had full sails out.) The resulting cavitation finally got the whales attention! The dorsal fins shimmied back and forth violently and they dove in an instant, flapping their flukes just 20 feet from our bow. We sailed right over their splash ripples and bubbles. Crisis averted!
During this, there had been no time to be scared. There was only time for action. We were in survival mode. Now that it was over, we had an overabundance of adrenalin to deal with. Brad said, "Man! I need a drink!" We both did, but of course, we didn't. We were so very happy to be alive and completely unscathed from this very near miss. I couldn't help but think of my old friend Laura who is deathly afraid of being on the water and of all the sea creatures lurking below who might reach up and smite her. I could just hear her saying, "I TOLD YOU SO!"
Like the conservative, safety-conscious people we are, we analyzed the scenario. We suspect that the whales could not hear us since we were sailing. We knew noise is important for safety. Whales avoid boats and even kayaks as much as possible, but they have to be aware of your presence. We leared this from a recent incident. A couple on a sailboat very near the town of Hoonah (which was just five miles from where we had been earlier) was rescued after a whale encounter. They reported that they had turned off their engine to watch the nearby whales as they drifted. A whale punched their keel up through the bottom of their sailboat, causing it to sink abruptly. They were rescued by a passing fishing boat, but their boat was a total loss.
So why didn't turning the engine on fix the problem? We think it was because of the cruise ship that was so near. Cruise ships make an overwhelming amount of underwater noise with their massive engines and propellers. We are sure this kind of close encounter doesn't happen very often because if it did, someone would surely have invented a whale whistle for sailboats by now (like a deer whistle for cars).
Now, when we see a whale spout, we both flinch! We'd be happy if we never, ever saw another whale but unfortunately, in these waters at least, they seem to be everywhere...
P.S. NOTE: Abby Normal is a possible WHALE MAGNET. Yesterday, as we were motoring our way to Craig, Alaska, (which is where we are now) we came upon a sleeping humpback. I kid you not. It was about 70 feet away from us on our starboard side. When they sleep, they hover at the surface and take what would appear to be shallow breaths, ie. no spraying. When we first spotted it, we didn't realize it was sleeping so Brad tried the trick of full reverse so the noise made by the cavitation would jolt a reaction from it. It didn't. That's when we realized it was in a deep sleep. So at least we didn't have to worry about it swimming along and coming up underneath us. No threat. What a relief!
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