I'm realizing that cruising the Inside Passage and mountaineering are not all that different really, except for the aerobic aspects of each (or lack thereof when it comes to boating.) In both endeavors, there is a lot of think time. When you are a climbing a glacier or scrambling up a long snow slope, it is pretty much the same as motoring down a long, narrow channel. You have plenty of time to let your mind wander, but at the same time, you are always looking around for objective hazards.
On a snow slog, you are assessing the snow conditions right under your feet as well as those above and ahead of you to ensure you avoid the crevasses and minimize any risk of slipping. On a boat, you are looking at the water below and in front of you, looking for rocks, kelp, logs and deadheads, and you are checking your depth gauge at the same time.
On a snow slog, you look in the distance for rocks that might break loose from the melting ice and for cornices that might break off and mow you down, or even for clumsy climbers who might fall or drop their gear on top of you. While cruising, you constantly check the chart plotter and/or the paper charts looking for known hazards so you can avoid them.
While mountaineering, you continually monitor your health and fitness, looking for signs of frostbite, hypothermia, overheating, bonking, etc., and making adjustments by adding or removing clothing, eating and drinking as necessary, altering your stride and cadence to work different muscle groups while giving other muscles a break, and also monitoring the health and fitness of other party members. The same is true for cruising. You are continually monitoring the status of the engine by checking the temperature gauge, the oil pressure gauge, tachometer, not to mention doing periodic checks of the engine compartment, reading belt and bearing temperatures and whatnot. And their is also the health of the crew to consider as well, like warning your spouse who is down below that the boat is about to get hit by big waves so they can brace.
Mountaineering requires good navigation skills, such as when you are on an all white snow slope where you can hardly tell the ground from the sky or in the midst of a thick forest where all you can see is trees in every direction. You frequently check your compass and map to ensure you are on course. The same is true for boating. You are continually checking your chart plotter and paper charts to ensure you are where you think you are. To be somewhere else can mean running aground or holing your boat on a sharp, submerged rock.
While mountaineering, even when you are with a group, you still can enjoy the solitude and beauty of the environment around you as you share it with the rest of the group. Cruising also takes you to remote places that the general public will never see. Tranquility and nature in all its forms are all around you. You just have to still your mind and observe.
These parallels make me appreciate cruising much more than I thought I would. Although I do miss the heart-pounding challenge of 4000 feet of elevation gain, I am enjoying all of the other aspects this endeavor has to offer.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Arrival Alaska!
Hi folks! We are, as I write this, sitting at a laundromat near Bar Harbor Marina in Ketchikan, Alaska, waiting for our two oversized loads of laundry to finish. (The party never ends!)
We arrived yesterday (Saturday, 6/4/11) after deciding to beat the bad weather that is supposedly coming by doing an extra long day Friday, skipping our planned stopover at Brundige Inlet on Dundas Island and going straight to Foggy Bay instead. This saved us a day off our "dream itinerary". Customs was the easiest we have ever experienced so that was very nice. The hardest part was just waiting for the agent to arrive at our slip! It seemed just to be a formality really. Pretty cool service, though, don't you think? (In Canada, they made us get off the boat while two of the agents searched it for god knows what. Here they didn't do anything but look at our shotgun.)
Unfortunately, we chose a marina that has no internet service so I am forced to use Brad's IPad AT&T connection. The IPad doesn't afford me the ability to upload my pictures (or if it does, neither Brad nor I know how to do it.) So please revisit this posting later (I can't tell you HOW much later, sorry) so you can see the pictures that go along with the story. Sorry for the inconvenience, but I think the pictures will make it worth a second visit.
THAR SHE BLOWS!
Yes, we've seen that distinctive spray from the whales as they surface for air. Awesome! So far we have seen orca (killer) whales, humpback whales, and finback whales. Each kind has a breaching pattern that the viewer can observe at the surface. The orcas have a very tall dorsal in that makes them very easy to identify. The humpbacks always expose their unique flukes (tail fins) as they dive back down deep after breaching. And the finbacks have very small dorsal fins (as do humpbacks) but do not raise their flukes when diving.
The last whale we spotted was right before entering Ketchikan Harbor. I was doing some aerobic dancing in place in the cockpit, jamming to ZZ Top, (part of my workout regimen) when I saw a fleeting glimpse of spray ahead of us at roughly eleven o'clock. I said to Brad, "Geez! There must be a slightly submerged rock over there because I just saw a small splash in that direction." I didn't think any more about it, but within about 30 to 45 seconds, I caught sight of a disturbance still slightly ahead of us but at about 1:30ish. That's when I realized what I was seeing: a finback whale! We cut the power to idle and watched as he resurfaced again right in front of us on our starboard side. I was amazed (and pleased) how close (but NOT scary close) he swam around us, how fast he moved, and that he obviously altered his course so as not to swim directly underneath us.
BLISSFUL TRANQUILITY
On May 31st, we anchored in a place called the East Inlet. We kayaked for about two hours and then realized that the weather had improved to the point that we could put on short-sleeved t-shirts and shorts. It was a lovely 75 degrees with NO WIND! Awesome! Just like summer! We pulled out the chaise lounge chairs and sat on the roof (which we lovingly call "the lido deck"), munched on melted brie on crackers and sipped some cold beer. Perfect! Snow-covered mountain views in the distance, lush green forests on the shore, a gurgling rapids running into the inlet from a mountain lake. Eagles and hawks, flying by, searching for their next meal. Seagulls and ducks splashing around in the water looking for small fry. Our neighbors in the sailboats anchored near us rowing out in their dinghies checking their crab traps for a possible dinner. The reflection of the forest, mountains, and sky in the nearly perfect calm surface of the water. Sarah McLachlan playing on the stereo. Tranquility.
Of course, that piece of heaven ended when the sun went behind the ridge. But it was blissful out there for about an hour before that. Since then, it has been in the 50's and raining. You have to take advantage of these precious moments when they come along. Life is short!
We arrived yesterday (Saturday, 6/4/11) after deciding to beat the bad weather that is supposedly coming by doing an extra long day Friday, skipping our planned stopover at Brundige Inlet on Dundas Island and going straight to Foggy Bay instead. This saved us a day off our "dream itinerary". Customs was the easiest we have ever experienced so that was very nice. The hardest part was just waiting for the agent to arrive at our slip! It seemed just to be a formality really. Pretty cool service, though, don't you think? (In Canada, they made us get off the boat while two of the agents searched it for god knows what. Here they didn't do anything but look at our shotgun.)
Unfortunately, we chose a marina that has no internet service so I am forced to use Brad's IPad AT&T connection. The IPad doesn't afford me the ability to upload my pictures (or if it does, neither Brad nor I know how to do it.) So please revisit this posting later (I can't tell you HOW much later, sorry) so you can see the pictures that go along with the story. Sorry for the inconvenience, but I think the pictures will make it worth a second visit.
THAR SHE BLOWS!
Yes, we've seen that distinctive spray from the whales as they surface for air. Awesome! So far we have seen orca (killer) whales, humpback whales, and finback whales. Each kind has a breaching pattern that the viewer can observe at the surface. The orcas have a very tall dorsal in that makes them very easy to identify. The humpbacks always expose their unique flukes (tail fins) as they dive back down deep after breaching. And the finbacks have very small dorsal fins (as do humpbacks) but do not raise their flukes when diving.
The last whale we spotted was right before entering Ketchikan Harbor. I was doing some aerobic dancing in place in the cockpit, jamming to ZZ Top, (part of my workout regimen) when I saw a fleeting glimpse of spray ahead of us at roughly eleven o'clock. I said to Brad, "Geez! There must be a slightly submerged rock over there because I just saw a small splash in that direction." I didn't think any more about it, but within about 30 to 45 seconds, I caught sight of a disturbance still slightly ahead of us but at about 1:30ish. That's when I realized what I was seeing: a finback whale! We cut the power to idle and watched as he resurfaced again right in front of us on our starboard side. I was amazed (and pleased) how close (but NOT scary close) he swam around us, how fast he moved, and that he obviously altered his course so as not to swim directly underneath us.
BLISSFUL TRANQUILITY
On May 31st, we anchored in a place called the East Inlet. We kayaked for about two hours and then realized that the weather had improved to the point that we could put on short-sleeved t-shirts and shorts. It was a lovely 75 degrees with NO WIND! Awesome! Just like summer! We pulled out the chaise lounge chairs and sat on the roof (which we lovingly call "the lido deck"), munched on melted brie on crackers and sipped some cold beer. Perfect! Snow-covered mountain views in the distance, lush green forests on the shore, a gurgling rapids running into the inlet from a mountain lake. Eagles and hawks, flying by, searching for their next meal. Seagulls and ducks splashing around in the water looking for small fry. Our neighbors in the sailboats anchored near us rowing out in their dinghies checking their crab traps for a possible dinner. The reflection of the forest, mountains, and sky in the nearly perfect calm surface of the water. Sarah McLachlan playing on the stereo. Tranquility.
Of course, that piece of heaven ended when the sun went behind the ridge. But it was blissful out there for about an hour before that. Since then, it has been in the 50's and raining. You have to take advantage of these precious moments when they come along. Life is short!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Time to Fly...
We just got into Prince Rupert today. Prince Rupert is the last Canadian port before we reach the US border. It will take a minimum of three days to get to the customs office in Ketchikan. There is weather coming in on Sunday, so we need to leave right away tomorrow to get to a safe anchorage before it hits. Therefore, I will have to defer some of my other stories until after we find moorage in Ketchikan. So much has happened to us since I last posted anything, so please check back in a few days for new postings. I'll try to catch you up to date then...
The Case of Muscle v. Mussel
One day a little over a week ago, Brad and I went kayaking in a lovely, secluded anchorage called Troup Cove. The shoreline rocks were simply covered with mussels. Brad decided to eat one so he pried one off a rock, broke open the shell, and popped it in his mouth. He proclaimed it delicious! And yes, it was raw, folks. Just like what Bear Grylls and Les Stroud would do. (These are two survivalist types that have programs on the Discovery Channel, our favorite cable station.) If they can do it, why not Brad??? Real cave man stuff. Brad offered to get me one too, but I declined. I prefer muscles of the OTHER variety!
A few hours later, I went to bed, but stayed up late reading Stephen King, and drinking beer. He came to bed about 1:00 a.m. (I found the incriminating beer cans the next morning in the trash). And this behavior from a guy who has been rationing his beer and my wine consumption so that we wouldn't run out before the next chance to restock.
Not only did he come to bed late, but he started hiccuping violently and continuously. Between the shuddering hiccups which caused the bed to rock annoyingly and his buzz saw snoring, I simply could not sleep. I tried rolling him over to no avail. I then tried to go sleep in the aft stateroom but the mattress had been removed over the engine (to make the engine checking process easier) and the second bunk was filled to the gills with a couple of huge sails, a shotgun, numerous charts, and other heavy stuff (not to mention if I moved them, where could I possibly put them?) so I gave up on that idea as well. I eventually put on my clothes and some heavy socks, found an afghan in a storage locker, grabbed my pillow and retired to the salon setee. Not exactly comfortable, but if I pulled my knees up into a fetal position, it wasn't all that bad. At least the setee didn't bounce and roll with each hiccup and Brad's snoring was somewhat muted by the door between us. Finally, I was able to sleep a few hours.
In the morning, Brad tried to act as if all was well, but it quickly became apparent that all was NOT well. (At least I knew I was feeling extremely sleep-deprived.) Brad was STILL hiccuping. It wasn't long after leaving our anchorage that Brad had his first puking bout! (Thank God he made it to the galley sink before losing it.) He slept nearly the entire day (and all that night) while I drove to our next destination. (So much for me doing my P90X regimen which has become my custom while we are en route.) He looked like hell all day, couldn't eat anything, and vomited at least three times that I saw. His discomfort certainly gave me a little joy. It served him right after his night of debauchery! By evening he was still feeling puny and he even had a degree of fever. I started feeling a little sorry for him. (Not much, but a little.)
By the next morning, there was no change in his situation. Still hicupping, but not non-stop now. He still couldn't eat and again slept most of the day. By the end of the second day, I started to think it might not be a hangover. I surreptitiously pulled out the Wilderness Medicine book that my dear sister, Lyn, gave me for Christmas a few years ago and read up on shellfish toxicity while Brad slept. What I found was not good and not encouraging. A significant portion of those ingesting non-farm-raised mussels (whether cooked or raw) die within a few days! So I started getting worried. Brad still had a fever, still wasn't able to each much, and now his vision had gotten blurred. We started recording his vital signs and symptoms in case I had to call for his emergency evacuation. (Oh my God! Do they deliver a new captain when they haul the old one away???)
Fortunately, Brad started to be able to eat some cold foods on the third day, but coffee still made him want to hurl. (Can you imagine? Coffee is his favorite beverage!) By the fourth day he could eat hot foods in small quantities and was feeling a lot more normal. By the fifth day, he was back to normal but roughly 10 pounds lighter. (He calls it the mussel diet but doesn't recommend it.) He has sworn off mussels and any other form of shellfish for the time being.
The jury on this case was hung so no monetary or punitive damages were awarded to either party. Half of the jury thought it was a very mild case of PSP (paralytic shellfish poisoning) while the other half thought it was SAP (self-inflicted alcohol poisoning). You be the judge...
A few hours later, I went to bed, but stayed up late reading Stephen King, and drinking beer. He came to bed about 1:00 a.m. (I found the incriminating beer cans the next morning in the trash). And this behavior from a guy who has been rationing his beer and my wine consumption so that we wouldn't run out before the next chance to restock.
Not only did he come to bed late, but he started hiccuping violently and continuously. Between the shuddering hiccups which caused the bed to rock annoyingly and his buzz saw snoring, I simply could not sleep. I tried rolling him over to no avail. I then tried to go sleep in the aft stateroom but the mattress had been removed over the engine (to make the engine checking process easier) and the second bunk was filled to the gills with a couple of huge sails, a shotgun, numerous charts, and other heavy stuff (not to mention if I moved them, where could I possibly put them?) so I gave up on that idea as well. I eventually put on my clothes and some heavy socks, found an afghan in a storage locker, grabbed my pillow and retired to the salon setee. Not exactly comfortable, but if I pulled my knees up into a fetal position, it wasn't all that bad. At least the setee didn't bounce and roll with each hiccup and Brad's snoring was somewhat muted by the door between us. Finally, I was able to sleep a few hours.
In the morning, Brad tried to act as if all was well, but it quickly became apparent that all was NOT well. (At least I knew I was feeling extremely sleep-deprived.) Brad was STILL hiccuping. It wasn't long after leaving our anchorage that Brad had his first puking bout! (Thank God he made it to the galley sink before losing it.) He slept nearly the entire day (and all that night) while I drove to our next destination. (So much for me doing my P90X regimen which has become my custom while we are en route.) He looked like hell all day, couldn't eat anything, and vomited at least three times that I saw. His discomfort certainly gave me a little joy. It served him right after his night of debauchery! By evening he was still feeling puny and he even had a degree of fever. I started feeling a little sorry for him. (Not much, but a little.)
By the next morning, there was no change in his situation. Still hicupping, but not non-stop now. He still couldn't eat and again slept most of the day. By the end of the second day, I started to think it might not be a hangover. I surreptitiously pulled out the Wilderness Medicine book that my dear sister, Lyn, gave me for Christmas a few years ago and read up on shellfish toxicity while Brad slept. What I found was not good and not encouraging. A significant portion of those ingesting non-farm-raised mussels (whether cooked or raw) die within a few days! So I started getting worried. Brad still had a fever, still wasn't able to each much, and now his vision had gotten blurred. We started recording his vital signs and symptoms in case I had to call for his emergency evacuation. (Oh my God! Do they deliver a new captain when they haul the old one away???)
Fortunately, Brad started to be able to eat some cold foods on the third day, but coffee still made him want to hurl. (Can you imagine? Coffee is his favorite beverage!) By the fourth day he could eat hot foods in small quantities and was feeling a lot more normal. By the fifth day, he was back to normal but roughly 10 pounds lighter. (He calls it the mussel diet but doesn't recommend it.) He has sworn off mussels and any other form of shellfish for the time being.
The jury on this case was hung so no monetary or punitive damages were awarded to either party. Half of the jury thought it was a very mild case of PSP (paralytic shellfish poisoning) while the other half thought it was SAP (self-inflicted alcohol poisoning). You be the judge...
A Day to Remember!
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
It started out as just another fine, gorgeous day, nearly cloudless, albeit a little cold. Another day in cruising paradise, or so we naively thought. The wind was from our port stern quarter at about 15 knots so we put up our jib and motorsailed for a while. Our speed improved quite a bit. The wind picked up a bit more so then we put out our mainsail, cut the engine, and sailed wing-on-wing. We got up to 7.9 knots which is great speed for our boat so we were really pleased. Especially since sailing down these narrow channels is usually NOT an option! (Not to mention we were saving fossil fuels. Whoohoo!) A bit later the wind died down so we put the sails away.
Not more than half an hour later the wind picked back up and we put the sails back out again. (Ah, the benefits of pushbutton sailing!) The wind speed was 14 knots. We were on a beam reach. I was driving. Things were going just swell. Both sails were filled in nicely on our port side and the telltales were streaming perfectly. La dee da. Isn't life good? Then, in an instant, it all went to shit! The jib flew across the bow and slammed HARD to starboard and the boat heeled precipitously and hard. (An accidental jibe.) But the weird thing was the mainsail was still on the correct side (to port.) What the hell??? Brad's coffee, which he had placed precariously to the left of the chartplotter, flew fast and hard, and smashed against the far wall, ricocheting and spewing a full load of black coffee across the ceiling, the floor, the galley counter, both silverware drawers, the refrigerator, the steps, the tea shelf, and splattering every single once-clean plate and bowl in the cupboard. Coffee was EVERYWHERE! Of course, Brad (having been down below doing something else) was yelling at me "WTF???" adding to my distress and bewilderment.
In an attempt at quick-thinking, I considered the old advice to sheet out to lessen the power of the sails, but decided I would do better to sheet in completely and turn to windward. Just as I was sheeting in, trying to steer upwind and I realizing I couldn't figure out which way that was, another gust of wind hit us and we heeled over violently, even worse than during the accidental jibe. The top box stowed below the nav desk (which I had stowed improperly the night before in my laziness, ie. NOT on top of the anti-skid strip), exploded across the full width of the boat, slamming into the freezer on the port side, disgorging its contents of about 40 Mountain House freeze-dried meals. (Yes, in case you were wondering, they are indeed backpacking meals. We went crazy at an REI sale back in 2002 and bought a pant-load of them! And naturally since we bought our camper, Brad hasn't wanted to do a lot of backpacking. It's beneath the lifestyle to which he has become accustomed. Hence, the surplus of freeze-dried dinners. It saves me from having to cook every single day so I'm not complaining. When the seas are rough, they definitely fill the void.) And of course, the box wasn't the only casualty. The expensive stabilizing binoculars and Brad's IPad also went flying off the salon table. Brad was apoplectic! Fortunately, only the focusing knob sheared off the binocs so hopefully we can make them workable again. The IPad seems to be okay too. Thank God!
Brad was pretty pissed at me, as you might imagine. He took over driving - I was too freaked out at that point anyway - while I went below to clean up the coffee debacle. It wasn't until later that he checked the wind instrument and realized it really wasn't my fault. We had apparently been hit by a williwaw! The wind meter showed the maximum wind had been 28.1! Such a sudden change in wind velocity was a real shocker to us both, but especially to me since I was the one driving at the time. I literally didn't know what had hit me. When Brad took over, he said the windex was doing a 360 and then the wind speed died down to under 10, so he put the sails away. (There is no way anyone can sail when the wind is THAT inconsistent!)
After we anchored for the day, uneventfully I might add (whew), Brad discovered that the macerator pump (shit pump, in case you didn't know), although still running, wasn't actually pumping as it should. This occurred to him after the last use when our electronic tank gauge still showed one pixel when we were pretty sure it had to be empty. In an effort to investigate, he pulled up the carpeting in the forward stateroom (our bedroom) and removed the hatch cover to the bilge and valves below. Shockingly, there was a brown viscous substance splashed all over the place! I said, "Maybe it is mud from the anchor that didn't get washed off properly since the anchor washdown pump seized up this morning? Geez, I hope so." He reached down and scooped some of the brown stuff with his index finger, brought it to his nose, and took a tentative whiff. "No, it doesn't smell like shit. What do you think?" (Please bear in mind that the longer one smells an unpleasant aroma (read: stench!), the olfactory senses cease to find it offensive after several minutes.) "No, I don't think it smells like shit either, so maybe it IS just mud." (Hope springs eternal.) Brad sticks his head below further and says, "Uh oh. There's a BIG puddle under the macerator. And look. Here are two sheared-off bolts lying in the puddle. It is DEFINITELY shit!!!"
Imagine, if you will, the expression on Brad's face after making this discovery. It can mean only one thing: a shitty, shitty, seriously shitty repair and cleanup job, and we KNOW who has to do it! (Hint: NOT ME! I did NOT sign up for this). As Brad crawls halfway into the hole, up to his elbows in pooh, he mentions something about a sweet smelling liquid emanating from the pump, but methinks his sniffer has taken a holiday! He tells me what "good value" he is, what with him making two repairs in one day. (He had spent an hour before this little chore successfully "mcguivering" a replacement for the anchor washdown pump. Good job, Brad!) But I don't know. I think he is doing a shitty job! :-)
It's a coinkydink really, but we will be eating mujadarruh tonight. (I took it out of the freezer this morning and it's been thawing all day.) Since it looks pretty much the same going in as it does coming out, it may not seem quite as appealing to Brad after today's frolic in the bilge! Awfully appropos though, I must say!
It started out as just another fine, gorgeous day, nearly cloudless, albeit a little cold. Another day in cruising paradise, or so we naively thought. The wind was from our port stern quarter at about 15 knots so we put up our jib and motorsailed for a while. Our speed improved quite a bit. The wind picked up a bit more so then we put out our mainsail, cut the engine, and sailed wing-on-wing. We got up to 7.9 knots which is great speed for our boat so we were really pleased. Especially since sailing down these narrow channels is usually NOT an option! (Not to mention we were saving fossil fuels. Whoohoo!) A bit later the wind died down so we put the sails away.
Not more than half an hour later the wind picked back up and we put the sails back out again. (Ah, the benefits of pushbutton sailing!) The wind speed was 14 knots. We were on a beam reach. I was driving. Things were going just swell. Both sails were filled in nicely on our port side and the telltales were streaming perfectly. La dee da. Isn't life good? Then, in an instant, it all went to shit! The jib flew across the bow and slammed HARD to starboard and the boat heeled precipitously and hard. (An accidental jibe.) But the weird thing was the mainsail was still on the correct side (to port.) What the hell??? Brad's coffee, which he had placed precariously to the left of the chartplotter, flew fast and hard, and smashed against the far wall, ricocheting and spewing a full load of black coffee across the ceiling, the floor, the galley counter, both silverware drawers, the refrigerator, the steps, the tea shelf, and splattering every single once-clean plate and bowl in the cupboard. Coffee was EVERYWHERE! Of course, Brad (having been down below doing something else) was yelling at me "WTF???" adding to my distress and bewilderment.
In an attempt at quick-thinking, I considered the old advice to sheet out to lessen the power of the sails, but decided I would do better to sheet in completely and turn to windward. Just as I was sheeting in, trying to steer upwind and I realizing I couldn't figure out which way that was, another gust of wind hit us and we heeled over violently, even worse than during the accidental jibe. The top box stowed below the nav desk (which I had stowed improperly the night before in my laziness, ie. NOT on top of the anti-skid strip), exploded across the full width of the boat, slamming into the freezer on the port side, disgorging its contents of about 40 Mountain House freeze-dried meals. (Yes, in case you were wondering, they are indeed backpacking meals. We went crazy at an REI sale back in 2002 and bought a pant-load of them! And naturally since we bought our camper, Brad hasn't wanted to do a lot of backpacking. It's beneath the lifestyle to which he has become accustomed. Hence, the surplus of freeze-dried dinners. It saves me from having to cook every single day so I'm not complaining. When the seas are rough, they definitely fill the void.) And of course, the box wasn't the only casualty. The expensive stabilizing binoculars and Brad's IPad also went flying off the salon table. Brad was apoplectic! Fortunately, only the focusing knob sheared off the binocs so hopefully we can make them workable again. The IPad seems to be okay too. Thank God!
Brad was pretty pissed at me, as you might imagine. He took over driving - I was too freaked out at that point anyway - while I went below to clean up the coffee debacle. It wasn't until later that he checked the wind instrument and realized it really wasn't my fault. We had apparently been hit by a williwaw! The wind meter showed the maximum wind had been 28.1! Such a sudden change in wind velocity was a real shocker to us both, but especially to me since I was the one driving at the time. I literally didn't know what had hit me. When Brad took over, he said the windex was doing a 360 and then the wind speed died down to under 10, so he put the sails away. (There is no way anyone can sail when the wind is THAT inconsistent!)
After we anchored for the day, uneventfully I might add (whew), Brad discovered that the macerator pump (shit pump, in case you didn't know), although still running, wasn't actually pumping as it should. This occurred to him after the last use when our electronic tank gauge still showed one pixel when we were pretty sure it had to be empty. In an effort to investigate, he pulled up the carpeting in the forward stateroom (our bedroom) and removed the hatch cover to the bilge and valves below. Shockingly, there was a brown viscous substance splashed all over the place! I said, "Maybe it is mud from the anchor that didn't get washed off properly since the anchor washdown pump seized up this morning? Geez, I hope so." He reached down and scooped some of the brown stuff with his index finger, brought it to his nose, and took a tentative whiff. "No, it doesn't smell like shit. What do you think?" (Please bear in mind that the longer one smells an unpleasant aroma (read: stench!), the olfactory senses cease to find it offensive after several minutes.) "No, I don't think it smells like shit either, so maybe it IS just mud." (Hope springs eternal.) Brad sticks his head below further and says, "Uh oh. There's a BIG puddle under the macerator. And look. Here are two sheared-off bolts lying in the puddle. It is DEFINITELY shit!!!"
Imagine, if you will, the expression on Brad's face after making this discovery. It can mean only one thing: a shitty, shitty, seriously shitty repair and cleanup job, and we KNOW who has to do it! (Hint: NOT ME! I did NOT sign up for this). As Brad crawls halfway into the hole, up to his elbows in pooh, he mentions something about a sweet smelling liquid emanating from the pump, but methinks his sniffer has taken a holiday! He tells me what "good value" he is, what with him making two repairs in one day. (He had spent an hour before this little chore successfully "mcguivering" a replacement for the anchor washdown pump. Good job, Brad!) But I don't know. I think he is doing a shitty job! :-)
It's a coinkydink really, but we will be eating mujadarruh tonight. (I took it out of the freezer this morning and it's been thawing all day.) Since it looks pretty much the same going in as it does coming out, it may not seem quite as appealing to Brad after today's frolic in the bilge! Awfully appropos though, I must say!
Monday, May 16, 2011
Dripped & Gripped!
Now is probably NOT the best time for me to be posting a blog. I'm not in the best of moods. But Brad purchased some wireless internet time so I better use it...
Let me explain the title for this posting: Dripped & Gripped. The drip refers to the reason why I'm in a foul mood. Our stuffing box (or packing glands, if you prefer), is leaking. No, we're aren't at the point where we need to abandon ship, but it is bad enough that it has to be fixed before we do get to that point. Gripped is a term used by climbers. To be gripped means you are gripped with fear. (Okay, that's an exaggeration in this case but I liked the rhyming of it.) When the water was flowing from the stuffing box like a water faucet, I was beginning to get seriously concerned. Even though we have a total of six bilge pumps, who wants to actually have to use them to prevent disaster???
Brad, the self-proclaimed mechanic, tried fixing the problem himself after buying a BMF pipe wrench (which, of course, barely fit in the bilge.) He spent 3 hours in the hole, sweating like a pig, and while he did tighten the packing, the leak only got worse! That was Saturday while we were docked at Port McNeill. Sunday morning he got a referral for a mechanic who was willing to work on a Sunday, but after much discussion, the mechanic thought it would be better for us to try to make it to Port Hardy where they have a boat lift. That way the stuffing box could be fixed without flooding the boat. (Good idea, don't you think?)
We made it to Port Hardy but wouldn't you know that the boat lift operator takes Sundays and Mondays off. Now here it is Monday and the mechanic said we need to get a custom wrench made in order to get the proper grip in that very limited workspace. By 3:45, the wrench was made, welded and ground down to the proper size. (It didn't fit at first, naturally.) And naturally, the wrench doesn't fix the problem as the packing is screwed in to the max already. Back to square one. It's 4:00 now and they say they will look into it again tomorrow. This is frustrating to say the least! (Port Hardy's idea of Hotel California, I fear. The longer they can make us stay, the more moorage fees, mechanic hours incurred, food purchased, etc.)
Oh, enough about that. I'll let Brad handle that while I try to amuse you with other stuff... Let me recap some of the highlights of our trip so far...
We crossed the Strait of Georgia with winds from 18 to 24 knots with 6' following seas hitting us on our starboard stern quarter. Suffice it to say we were getting rocked and rolled like nobody's business! I steered so that I had something solid to hold on to while Brad tried to keep all of our crap from flying back in forth down below. It was a wild ride, but not the worst I've ever experienced (which was good or I probably would have been sick!)
The weather forecast predicted big winds (25 to 35 knots) for the day after we arrived at Port Neville so we ducked into the bay and anchored in a remote spot where we were the only civilization to be found as far as one could see (and one could see far, believe me.) No lights, just some old, falling-apart buildings long abandoned in the distance. (Port Neville is a ghost town and the surrounding area is likewise uninhabited.) We were discussing setting up the dinghy and going ashore for a little exploration (since it was one of those rare times when it wasn't actually raining!), when Brad exclaimed "BEAR!" Sure enough, there was a bear on shore and a big healthy grizzly bear at that! Our first sighting! He appeared to be eating things he found up on shore - it was low tide - and wandered up and down the beach for over an hour. It was quite a thrilling sight! Needless to say, that nixed the idea of going ashore. (I don't relish the idea of becoming bear pooh.)
The next morning we saw a black bear on the shore just a bit further west of where the grizzly had been. This area appears to be quite the grazing spot for hungry bears.
One evening we had trouble anchoring. (Okay, we have that trouble a lot, but this time was especially bad.) The anchor just wouldn't set no matter how patient we were. We were beginning to get worried when we finally got it set and by then the winds were really howling. We had used all of the chain rode and some of the rope rode because we needed 5 to 1 scope. This meant that we couldn't use our anchor chain snubber. Brad couldn't figure out how to take the tension off the windlass so I am proud to say some of my climbing knowledge kicked in. The situation was very similar to the fallen climber tie-off, so I used a double runner to make a klemheist knot around the rope rode and carabinered that to one of our jacklines - and voila! - the load was transferred to the bow cleat. Brad was amazed and proud that I was able to figure that out in a clinch. (He's usually the clever, non-panicky type.) I was too, frankly. (However, in hindsight, I don't see why we even needed to do that. With our Delta anchor it is quite easy to pull the rode up behind the windlass, attach it to the bow cleat and then pay out enough rode through the windlass to put the load on the bow cleat. I'm thinking we tried this at the time, but it may have just been that the rode was jammed at the point where it goes up to the windlass, and being stressed out by the wind and rain, we probably didn't think it through far enough to figure out the problem.)
The other day we were thinking about how odd it was that our CQR does not seem to be as secure as it usually has been. The only change is that Brad added 4 pounds of diving weights to its crosspiece. We are thinking that perhaps this has changed its balance enough such that the plow angle has changed slightly and this may be why we are having so much trouble getting a good set. So Brad decided to remove the weights. Please bear in mind that this is awkward to do since the anchor hangs out well beyond the bow roller. (When he put them on, he put the anchor on the dock. No dock now. And the anchor weighs 64 pounds by itself so there is no way he can lift it up over the bowsprit onto the boat to work on it.) Naturally, he dropped our one and only slotted screwdriver overboard. (Did I mention it was part of a matching set, pretty blue with red trim?) And naturally, with the water temperature barely above freezing, Brad refused to retrieve it. (Can you believe it?) I told him that this would happen and to take precautions (by tying the tool to his wrist) but of course he refused to do so and of course he dropped it. Ha! I didn't even have to say I told you so, as he said "You were right!" (Can I get that on tape please?) (We replaced the screwdriver in Port McNeill, but darn it, it is yellow and black. The tool fashion police will be incensed!)
While kayaking one evening (it doesn't get dark here until after 9:00), we saw a majestic bald eagle in a tall tree looking down on us, waiting, and perhaps sizing me up. He apparently decided I was too big to lift so I was safe from those sharp talons and that wicked beak. Whew!
Just so you know just how anal my husband is, here is a photo of our chartplotter after anchoring at Crease Island Nook. Note that the skull and crossbones are denoting 10' of water and we were already at low tide. Our draft is only 3'8". Ha! Is he conservative or what???
I guess he doesn't want to end up like this boat:
Here's the sunset over Port McNeill. I missed getting out the camera at the peak when the sun just hit the horizon. So red! But it stayed colorful long enough for me to capture this shot.
Let me explain the title for this posting: Dripped & Gripped. The drip refers to the reason why I'm in a foul mood. Our stuffing box (or packing glands, if you prefer), is leaking. No, we're aren't at the point where we need to abandon ship, but it is bad enough that it has to be fixed before we do get to that point. Gripped is a term used by climbers. To be gripped means you are gripped with fear. (Okay, that's an exaggeration in this case but I liked the rhyming of it.) When the water was flowing from the stuffing box like a water faucet, I was beginning to get seriously concerned. Even though we have a total of six bilge pumps, who wants to actually have to use them to prevent disaster???
Brad, the self-proclaimed mechanic, tried fixing the problem himself after buying a BMF pipe wrench (which, of course, barely fit in the bilge.) He spent 3 hours in the hole, sweating like a pig, and while he did tighten the packing, the leak only got worse! That was Saturday while we were docked at Port McNeill. Sunday morning he got a referral for a mechanic who was willing to work on a Sunday, but after much discussion, the mechanic thought it would be better for us to try to make it to Port Hardy where they have a boat lift. That way the stuffing box could be fixed without flooding the boat. (Good idea, don't you think?)
We made it to Port Hardy but wouldn't you know that the boat lift operator takes Sundays and Mondays off. Now here it is Monday and the mechanic said we need to get a custom wrench made in order to get the proper grip in that very limited workspace. By 3:45, the wrench was made, welded and ground down to the proper size. (It didn't fit at first, naturally.) And naturally, the wrench doesn't fix the problem as the packing is screwed in to the max already. Back to square one. It's 4:00 now and they say they will look into it again tomorrow. This is frustrating to say the least! (Port Hardy's idea of Hotel California, I fear. The longer they can make us stay, the more moorage fees, mechanic hours incurred, food purchased, etc.)
Oh, enough about that. I'll let Brad handle that while I try to amuse you with other stuff... Let me recap some of the highlights of our trip so far...
We crossed the Strait of Georgia with winds from 18 to 24 knots with 6' following seas hitting us on our starboard stern quarter. Suffice it to say we were getting rocked and rolled like nobody's business! I steered so that I had something solid to hold on to while Brad tried to keep all of our crap from flying back in forth down below. It was a wild ride, but not the worst I've ever experienced (which was good or I probably would have been sick!)
The weather forecast predicted big winds (25 to 35 knots) for the day after we arrived at Port Neville so we ducked into the bay and anchored in a remote spot where we were the only civilization to be found as far as one could see (and one could see far, believe me.) No lights, just some old, falling-apart buildings long abandoned in the distance. (Port Neville is a ghost town and the surrounding area is likewise uninhabited.) We were discussing setting up the dinghy and going ashore for a little exploration (since it was one of those rare times when it wasn't actually raining!), when Brad exclaimed "BEAR!" Sure enough, there was a bear on shore and a big healthy grizzly bear at that! Our first sighting! He appeared to be eating things he found up on shore - it was low tide - and wandered up and down the beach for over an hour. It was quite a thrilling sight! Needless to say, that nixed the idea of going ashore. (I don't relish the idea of becoming bear pooh.)
 |
| Hungry grizzly bear in Port Neville |
 |
| Hungry black bear in Port Neville |
The other day we were thinking about how odd it was that our CQR does not seem to be as secure as it usually has been. The only change is that Brad added 4 pounds of diving weights to its crosspiece. We are thinking that perhaps this has changed its balance enough such that the plow angle has changed slightly and this may be why we are having so much trouble getting a good set. So Brad decided to remove the weights. Please bear in mind that this is awkward to do since the anchor hangs out well beyond the bow roller. (When he put them on, he put the anchor on the dock. No dock now. And the anchor weighs 64 pounds by itself so there is no way he can lift it up over the bowsprit onto the boat to work on it.) Naturally, he dropped our one and only slotted screwdriver overboard. (Did I mention it was part of a matching set, pretty blue with red trim?) And naturally, with the water temperature barely above freezing, Brad refused to retrieve it. (Can you believe it?) I told him that this would happen and to take precautions (by tying the tool to his wrist) but of course he refused to do so and of course he dropped it. Ha! I didn't even have to say I told you so, as he said "You were right!" (Can I get that on tape please?) (We replaced the screwdriver in Port McNeill, but darn it, it is yellow and black. The tool fashion police will be incensed!)
While kayaking one evening (it doesn't get dark here until after 9:00), we saw a majestic bald eagle in a tall tree looking down on us, waiting, and perhaps sizing me up. He apparently decided I was too big to lift so I was safe from those sharp talons and that wicked beak. Whew!
 |
| Big bald eagle on high perch |
 |
| Me and Abby Normal at Crease Island Nook |
Just so you know just how anal my husband is, here is a photo of our chartplotter after anchoring at Crease Island Nook. Note that the skull and crossbones are denoting 10' of water and we were already at low tide. Our draft is only 3'8". Ha! Is he conservative or what???
 |
| Anchorage Anality at Crease Island Nook |
 |
| Shipwreck on Johnstone Strait |
Here's the sunset over Port McNeill. I missed getting out the camera at the peak when the sun just hit the horizon. So red! But it stayed colorful long enough for me to capture this shot.
 |
| Sunset at Port McNeill |
In a town earlier on our trip, one fellow said "Bald eagles are like mosquitos around here. They are everywhere!" That does seem to be the case. In Port Hardy, we found one stuffed and Brad felt compelled to take a picture.
 |
| Stuffed bald eagle |
The marina has a large diesel tank with a lovely mural painted on it:
 |
| Orca mural on fuel tank |
We met some another couple who arrived here at Port Hardy the same time we did - John and Diane. We went to dinner with them yesterday and have enjoyed several glasses of wine together as we get to know each other. They have been cruising for over a year in this area and are taking a brief trip back home to California (via airplane) in a few days.
 |
| John & Diane's boat |
 |
| John & Diane |
If everyone were as nice and as friendly as them, there would be no wars!
Friday, May 6, 2011
So Far, So Good (Almost)...
Today, Thursday, 5/5/11, is the last day of our first week. So far, nothing terrible has happened. Whew! No breakdowns (am I jinxing us?), no major mistakes.
The only thing that has gone wrong so far is a mistake I made before I even left Seattle! We're underway on day four. I'm downstairs in the aft stateroom getting the bread machine out and assembling the ingredients needed, when I open the lid to the machine and SCREAM! (Several expetives ensued, loudly.) Brad yells down as he runs down the stairs, "Are we taking on water? What's wrong?" "No," I scream. "The pan and paddle are NOT in the bread machine!" I must have left them on the shelf at home and just grabbed the bread machine without realizing they weren't inside. Obviously, no bread for us! Fortunately, our good friend, Steve Sands offered his services should anything go wrong as he said his goodbyes. What a sweetie! So we took him up on his offer and asked him to UPS our stuff (and a dongle Brad forgot too for a computer navigation program - I am not alone) to Nanaimo, which is the second largest city on Vancouver Island. (Victoria is number one.)
Now we are in Nanaimo, waiting. Our package didn't arrive as predicted. I guess I could go to a store and BUY a loaf, but darn it, I bought the machine just for this trip and am dying to use it. Maybe tomorrow...
So now for a recap of our first week...
Our first day was spent at Safeway in Port Townsend buying critical pharmaceutical items we thought we'd already stowed on the boat but couldn't find. (Can you believe after months and months of planning and making supply trips to the boat day after day, that we still managed to omit things???) Then we went on to Mystery Bay where we took delivery of our new winch and hatch covers. We spent the night at the dock at the park.
The next day we motored to Barlow Bay where we anchored for the night. That anchoring experience went smoothly. We were both overjoyed! However, it was a pretty rocking-n-rolling night so I didn't sleep much. Thank God I don't get seasick like my sister, Lyn, or my brother, Brock!
Day three took us to Stuart Island where we were able to dock for the night. We watched as a 15' fishing boat rammed the one in front of it at the dock. We were so glad we were docked on the OTHER SIDE! (Apparently, the transmission handle came off as he was shifting.) We walked to Turn Point to watch the whales but none wanted to reveal themselves to us. (This was our second trip here and we struck out AGAIN. Maybe next time we will succeed. Third time's a charm, right?)
We made it to South Pender Island on the fourth day where we went through Canadian customs. They always board your boat - no exceptions - while you wait nervously at the dock. Fortunately, they found us and our boat acceptable and allowed us to continue on our way without further hassle. We spent the night at Princess Cove on Wallace Island. (This is when I discovered the bread machine debacle.) It took us about 5 tries to set the anchor here. We were nervous as it was our first stern tie ever. Since we had no instruction, we didn't really know the best way to do it but did manage to get it done (eventually). We did learn that some anchors are just better in certain situations than others. At least here, the Delta and the Fortress worked way better than the CQR. It was windy so we set two anchors (another first for us), and that worked without a hitch. (I feared we would get them "wrapped around the axle" but we didn't!)
We spent three nights at Princess Cove since we knew our bread machine parts would not arrive until Thursday at the earliest. I walked the entire island the first day by myself (it took 3 hours and I got a bit muddy), as Brad was afraid to leave the boat! (He didn't want to find out that we hadn't anchored as well as we THOUGHT we had! Ha!) The second day we both hiked the whole island. (Less wind, happier Brad.)
The boaters have a cool custom here on Wallace Island. They all carve their boat name and year of the visit on a piece of driftwood and attach their sign in/on this old cabin. Some of the boat names are pretty clever and the artwork and mode of attachment are also quite interesting. Wish we had known so we could have added our own. Maybe next time...
Today we went through our first narrows, Dodd Narrows. We got up way too early (we set an alarm and everything!), afraid that we would miss slack tide. Since we couldn't get any current information for waters we were going to be passing through, route planning was, as to ETA, a WAG. I guessed a 1.5 knot current against us, but it turned out to be an average .5 knots in our favor up to the pass. This meant we would arrive way too early to get through the pass at slack tide, so we practically idled all the way to it! 3 knots SOG - speed over ground, in case you didn't know - for four hours. What a SNOOZER! (On the positive side, I was able to do my P90X workout en route without falling over. Balance is quite an issue on a moving boat! Anyway, so far I haven't missed a day of my workout routine. Whoohoo!) Getting through the pass itself turned out to be almost a non-event. Guess we didn't screw that one up too badly. What a relief! (We've heard these passes can be quite tricky.)
My impressions so far: People are so friendly and giving when they are boating! We met a man named Will who heard me comment to Brad how much I liked the chafe guards he had on his docklines. He heard me and gave us the material to make our own. Wasn't that nice? In Nanaimo this afternoon, a very old man saw me studying a map in the map room at the Nanaimo Yacht Club. It didn't take any prompting for him to offer his advice on the best places to anchor and where to cross the Straight of Georgia. He even drew me a map of the anchorages on the dry erase board.
Also, many of these boaters have this crusing thing wired! We just met a couple from Anacortes that buy their wine from here in Nanaimo. They purchased the equivalent of 90 bottles of wine from a local winemaker who puts it into big "kit bags" that they can put under the floor and never have to deal with customs. Pretty smart!
We've seen quite a bit of wildlife: seals & sea lions, raccoons, otters, and bald eagles. If I get a few better pictures, I will post them later. Most of the time, I just can't get the camera ready quick enough to capture the beauty.
Where we are docked is right next to the float plane landing area. They look like they are going to land right on top of us. I've tried taking pictures as they approach but our camera is so slow that by the time I click the shutter, the plane is already out of the frame! I did manage to get a couple of shots that hopefully capture the ambiance. (Since I had to reduce them to get them to upload, you might have to look hard to see the plane.) Float planes are quite prevalent here.
*********************************************************************************
Today is Friday, 5/6, and of course the UPS guy went to the wrong door and didn't deliver our package. We've been chasing it most of the day. Very frustrating to say the least. It's keeping us captive here. If we don't get it by 6pm tonight, we will be forced to stay here until Monday. Aaargh!
The only thing that has gone wrong so far is a mistake I made before I even left Seattle! We're underway on day four. I'm downstairs in the aft stateroom getting the bread machine out and assembling the ingredients needed, when I open the lid to the machine and SCREAM! (Several expetives ensued, loudly.) Brad yells down as he runs down the stairs, "Are we taking on water? What's wrong?" "No," I scream. "The pan and paddle are NOT in the bread machine!" I must have left them on the shelf at home and just grabbed the bread machine without realizing they weren't inside. Obviously, no bread for us! Fortunately, our good friend, Steve Sands offered his services should anything go wrong as he said his goodbyes. What a sweetie! So we took him up on his offer and asked him to UPS our stuff (and a dongle Brad forgot too for a computer navigation program - I am not alone) to Nanaimo, which is the second largest city on Vancouver Island. (Victoria is number one.)
Now we are in Nanaimo, waiting. Our package didn't arrive as predicted. I guess I could go to a store and BUY a loaf, but darn it, I bought the machine just for this trip and am dying to use it. Maybe tomorrow...
So now for a recap of our first week...
Our first day was spent at Safeway in Port Townsend buying critical pharmaceutical items we thought we'd already stowed on the boat but couldn't find. (Can you believe after months and months of planning and making supply trips to the boat day after day, that we still managed to omit things???) Then we went on to Mystery Bay where we took delivery of our new winch and hatch covers. We spent the night at the dock at the park.
The next day we motored to Barlow Bay where we anchored for the night. That anchoring experience went smoothly. We were both overjoyed! However, it was a pretty rocking-n-rolling night so I didn't sleep much. Thank God I don't get seasick like my sister, Lyn, or my brother, Brock!
Day three took us to Stuart Island where we were able to dock for the night. We watched as a 15' fishing boat rammed the one in front of it at the dock. We were so glad we were docked on the OTHER SIDE! (Apparently, the transmission handle came off as he was shifting.) We walked to Turn Point to watch the whales but none wanted to reveal themselves to us. (This was our second trip here and we struck out AGAIN. Maybe next time we will succeed. Third time's a charm, right?)
Turning Point (popular whale-watching spot)
Stern tie in Princess Cove - our first!
Brad waiting for me to return from hiking
We spent three nights at Princess Cove since we knew our bread machine parts would not arrive until Thursday at the earliest. I walked the entire island the first day by myself (it took 3 hours and I got a bit muddy), as Brad was afraid to leave the boat! (He didn't want to find out that we hadn't anchored as well as we THOUGHT we had! Ha!) The second day we both hiked the whole island. (Less wind, happier Brad.)
The boaters have a cool custom here on Wallace Island. They all carve their boat name and year of the visit on a piece of driftwood and attach their sign in/on this old cabin. Some of the boat names are pretty clever and the artwork and mode of attachment are also quite interesting. Wish we had known so we could have added our own. Maybe next time...
Driftwood signs all around and everywhere inside too!
Chivers Point on Wallace Island - beautiful, ain't it?
Abby Normal and her neighbors in Princess Cove
Approaching Nanaimo
Abby at visitor's moorage of Nanaimo Yacht Club
Also, many of these boaters have this crusing thing wired! We just met a couple from Anacortes that buy their wine from here in Nanaimo. They purchased the equivalent of 90 bottles of wine from a local winemaker who puts it into big "kit bags" that they can put under the floor and never have to deal with customs. Pretty smart!
We've seen quite a bit of wildlife: seals & sea lions, raccoons, otters, and bald eagles. If I get a few better pictures, I will post them later. Most of the time, I just can't get the camera ready quick enough to capture the beauty.
Where we are docked is right next to the float plane landing area. They look like they are going to land right on top of us. I've tried taking pictures as they approach but our camera is so slow that by the time I click the shutter, the plane is already out of the frame! I did manage to get a couple of shots that hopefully capture the ambiance. (Since I had to reduce them to get them to upload, you might have to look hard to see the plane.) Float planes are quite prevalent here.
Float plane just below treetops
Float plane just before touchdown
Float plane central
Today is Friday, 5/6, and of course the UPS guy went to the wrong door and didn't deliver our package. We've been chasing it most of the day. Very frustrating to say the least. It's keeping us captive here. If we don't get it by 6pm tonight, we will be forced to stay here until Monday. Aaargh!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)