Peaceful at anchor

At Protection Island. There are puffins here! Sent from my iPhone

Postcard from the Ocean Road

Annnnnd, they’re off! Bet you were wondering if we’d really go, didn’t you? With our original departure date of May first come and gone like an ice cream cone in an August Sahara, we were wondering, too. But now all the work is done… well, all that we couldn’t put off until fall, that is. And we, the doughty Sockdolagerians, are off! Off into the briny blue, the vasty deep, the bounding main, the billowy acres, the boggy drink, the watery world, the herring-pond, the trackless salt bath, the… oh Karen, just slam a bung in it and go, willya?

BTW, did we ever explain how Jim’s boat (pronounced ‘Sock-DOLL-a-jur) got its name? Originally called “Lucky Lady” (whooee, can you say Vegas, baby?) the name definitely had to go. Jim decided to pick one that would be completely original. Since he’s an experienced whitewater rafter and river rat, and since he’s a fan of history, he knew that the explorer John Wesley Powell had named the famous Sockdolager Rapids in the Grand Canyon of the Colorado River. He also knew that this word, widely used in the 1800s, had fallen out of use. Well, no more. There are several definitions for Sockdolager, but the one we associate with the boat, the rapids, and with John Wesley Powell’s intent is: “Outstanding!” as in, “THAT’S a real Sockdolager!” Something exceptional. Pay no attention to those other definitions, like the one about a bonk on the head. But now you know.

Dear Minstrel, our other Dana 24, is tucked safely into her slip for the summer, with friends watching over her until fall, when she comes alive again as Karen’s home! Karen’s house, site of many good musical feastings, is now the (rented) home of a friend known as Sue the Sailor, a new arrival to Port Townsend from Portland. Sue is known on the Columbia River for her awesome foredeck racing skills when she’s not busy being a wildlife biologist. (PT sailing locals take note.)

First on our route is a quick trip down-sound, to visit friends and rest up while we finalize plans. Then it’s out the Strait of Juan de Fuca, up the west coast of Vancouver Island, across Queen Charlotte Sound, and then we explore the Queen Charlotte Islands (the Haida Nation’s Gwaii Haanas) for five weeks! Coming home, we’ll probably sail through the Broughton Islands, traverse the rapids in the islands north of the Strait of Georgia, and stop in the San Juans before arriving back home in early September, just in time for the Wooden Boat Festival. Karen will then fetch Jack the doglet from his extended vacation in Alaska.

Yay! We’re off! Really. We’ll send you a note from somewhere down the ocean road when we have news and can find an internet connection.

Stress vs. Fun

Jim here. I'm finding that it is quite possible to manufacture your own stress. I shouldn't whine I know, I'm retired. How stressful can it be? As stressful and you make it. All self imposed deadlines, with the goal of 3 1/2 months of sailing this summer. In the words of Vaughn Short "...it's your own damn fault if you have no fun". My goal is to have more fun every day as well as while off on a trip. The photo is of Point Hudson marina where I've been living since October. It's a great place. Here's to more fun.

Nearly Ready

If you're new to this blog it might make more sense to click on "2009" under the Blog Archive, and start reading from the bottom.

"Nearly ready" is a euphemism, but we like to say that anyway. (Karen here.) There is a sense of final preparation in the air, as the major projects are behind us and it's now mostly small boat jobs and the schlepping of belongings from the house, which is rented to a friend for the summer. Oh, and painting, and... wait, don't get me started! There probably isn't a real finish line to preparing for something like this. More likely it'll be a sense of good enough, let's go. I think that sense may become apparent when we segue from thinking about the tasks at hand to the voyage itself being uppermost in our minds. I hope that's soon. When that happens, we'll probably just send you a quick email and go. The view right now is still from the porthole, not the cockpit. But the excitement is building, which means it won't be long now.

The List of Lists

It's not like we're in love with multitasking, but the list of things to do before casting off does not seem to be getting any shorter. You can spend three days on a single task from that list, and when you're done you only get to cross one measly line off. It's not fair. Neither is spending the summer without my beloved Jack the doglet, but it's the only fair thing for him if we are going to be out in big water with high waves, cold spray, long hours and no dog pee breaks. So I flew him (in the cabin, of course) to Alaska to be looked after by someone who knows and loves him, until September. The flight crew was extremely friendly (see photo) and Jack did fine. Many kleenexes later I am back in PT and feeling overwhelmed by the list of things to do. I mean, it's HUGE. Finish painting the house, including the porch. Do some repairs that shouldn't wait. Move personal stuff out of the house for the new tenant. Organize the garage. Get bill-paying on autopilot for the next 5 months. Get summer stuff moved to the boat. Inventory and organize charts. Test-sail the new staysail and storm trysail. Buy enough food staples to last a long time between grocery stops in the wilderness. Figure out where to pack it all in and not sink the boat. On and on it goes. And Jim has a list, too. What does one do with such a pile? Conquering the temptation to sit down and navel-gaze, we have found the answer: Combine them, and make a List of Lists. NOW we can get organized!

Anyone who has endured pre-departure voyage preparations will understand this minor rant. It's the boring, busy, stressed, tiresome, expensive chores that must be done to keep the shore-based loose ends of your life spinning smoothly while you disappear for a third of a year and enjoy the fruits of all that labor. The boat-based chores were fun. Bills and paint and repairs are not. But the finish line is somewhere out there. The List of Lists will tell us when it's visible.

The Great Race

Jim and I have been approached by a sponsor we've never heard of, but are considering their offer. The Friends Of Obese Landlubbers have asked us to sail around the world and document everything we consume along the way. This includes all beer and wine. It's a calorie consumption-versus-endurance race, designed to inspire weight loss and toning via everyday isometric exercises, such as the ones you'd employ on a boat at sea. They are offering to equip the boat with a satellite tracker so you can follow our position. The only hitch is that we must sail backwards, e.g. stern first. This will significantly slow us down. However, we own two Dana 24s, and that means we own two pointy ends. We are looking into the possibility of hitching the boats together, stern-to-stern, so that we will have a bow after all. This would turn the boat into a double-ended schooner with a huge center cockpit and a bar at either end. We will keep you informed of our progress with the Friends Of Obese Landlubbers, whose motto is "All Progress Rarely Is Linear."


OBTW, enjoy this:
http://www.museumofhoaxes.com/hoax/aprilfool/

Bright Spots in the Sky and on the Sea...

It's another soggy day up here in the Pacific Northwest, but we managed to find the only spot of sun yesterday, and we used every scrap of it. Good Old Boat magazine's Karen Larson and Jerry Powlas drove up from where they were staying on the Kitsap Peninsula (at GOB writer Richard Smith's house) and we set off: Karen, Jerry and Jim in Sockdolager, and me aboard Minstrel. It was a glorious sail and lots of good photos were taken. Sockdolager had to put the pedal to the metal as the chase boat under power in order to keep up with Minstrel under sail. From shore it probably looked like a Keystone Kops chase scene. Karen and Jerry, who had cooked us a STEAK DINNER the night before we sailed, are flat-out fun to be around, and I look forward to enjoying their friendship and writing for their magazine for many years to come.

This photo is not from yesterday, but it shows you what Minstrel under sail looks like.

By now you may have guessed that we'll be taking Jim's boat to the Queen Charlottes this summer. Minstrel will stay behind, and I am renting out my house for the summer to a colleague/friend from the Fish and Wildlife Service, who is moving to Port Townsend from Portland, OR. I'll be reachable by email or via Jim's cellphone. We'll email that number separately.

We're assembling cruise materials (thanks to friend/sailor/musician Bertram Levy for the loan of many Canadian charts) and are route-planning now. The route will include some offshore passages, the first of many, we hope. Life is good, in spite of the economy. It is, frankly, as good a time as any to take off and go sailing. You can live pretty cheaply on a boat if you're careful. And in the wilderness of islands and remote peninsulas we plan to visit, the absence of traffic and TV and shopping malls will be a sound that rings as clear as echoes off a mountain fjord. Okay, so we don't own a TV, Port Townsend has no shopping malls, and the traffic is minimal here. But we still won't miss those things.