Above the Salish Sea

[Doug Hill]

Sweet photo...great memories for you.

Fair Winds,
Doug

[David Patterson]

So many different ways to cruise, each valid for the particular cruiser.... I left my own style, and my little pocket cruiser, late last year before heading out on a round of shore visits to my scattered grown children. All accounted for, my return aboard will (finally) occur in just a few days. Events conspired, so my return is over a month late. Hopefully, all will be as I left it, except for a patina of algae here and there, and a prop shaft zinc in need of replacement. Oh, and no doubt marine growth on the unpainted knot meter paddle wheel. (A diver may be needed. 45* water is just too cold for this older non-diving-trained man. No haul out this spring.) My preferred cruising is done from the hook and under sail, lasting from 8-10 months of the year on the Salish Sea, including whatever self-chosen challenges draw my interest in the US and Canadian waters and islands. Each year I attempt to extend my cruising grounds, my range, for I'm still an intermediate-level sailor at this point. Here is a photo of my 25D as I left her in late October, someone's CD25 in the background, one that sadly never leaves her buoy. My CD 7'7" dinghy is on the foredeck, awaiting the centerboard work that I yearned to do all winter, but could not.

[David Patterson]

Impatient to be back afloat, photos from last year's sojourn in the Salish Sea give me solace. One year ago I woke at anchor to the pictured scene. Of course, there are spring storms to ride out. A fellow cruiser from the area texted me that yesterday there were gusts to 68 knots(!), which leads the prudent sailor to be tucked away in one of the anchorages that are well-protected. My favorite anchorage would likely have been ideal for yesterday, which is one reason I favor it. I've handled gusts over 60 knots (not in the anchorage, out in the open straits) there before, from the same direction. As the polar jet works northward again, high winds get less likely. Rare even.

[David Patterson]

Glad-hearted, the boat right where I left her, I returned aboard in evening twilight on 3/16, after a full day of travel by car, plane, bus, and ferry to end an unusually long 4.5 months ashore. On the ferry a few people withstood a cool breeze to catch first glimpses of the San Juans (as did I). My "home" cruising waters opened before me where Upright Channel joins San Juan Channel, in light airs at the slack before the flood, the currents minimal. Entering Friday Harbor just after the sun fell below the horizon, I couldn't expect to pick out little CLOUD GIRL from among the masts, but knew she was back there somewhere. Some words from the Canadian author Joan Skogan came to mind: "Ending a journey with no meaning beyond itself required other journeys, each one issuing into the next, with necessary renunciations between them."

[moctrams]

It is hard to believe I could go 4.5 months without seeing my CD. Just to go and make sure all is secure under her winter cover and get out of the house and all the stuff I have to do living in the mountains of WV . Next week will be launch week. Finally!!

[David Patterson]

In the late winter light the relatively modest-sized port marina of Friday Harbor looks far more full than it actually is, in the first photo of 2/3 of the marina. True, most of the long term slips are filled. Especially slips in the 50' range require time on the waiting list, I hear...maybe years. In the second photo, of some of the overnight transient slips, it is clear the tourist season has yet to start. Soon to change. Adjacent to the slip my boat currently occupies is a charming old double-ended sloop, its NW look of functionality very attractive. I like the house. The owner tells me the hull is actually fiberglass, the wooden stem being attached outside the hull. Notice the high bulwarks, and the hiking stick on the tiller. Can she be steered from within the pilot house? Yes, though the wheel is currently dismounted. The inflatable kayak resting on a boat cushion on the wood stove's Charlie Noble is a frequent choice for a shore boat around here. The mast is arranged via a tabernacle for easy dropping. I'm reminded of Lyle Hess' Nor'sea 27, modeled on Scandinavian spitsgatters, I think. As I settle back in aboard my old CD25D (whose Scandinavian folkboat heritage is less obvious) I find my conditioning sadly less than almost 5 months ago...less flexibility, less strength. Stamina is yet to be tested. With the dinghy back in the water, rowing around will help. So will anchor work, once I'm free of the marina in a week or two. The erratic jerky motion of a slip-tied boat is disconcerting to me when ferry wakes roll through the marina. A tea tree oil product (no connection to me) called Safe-T-Air kept mold growth aboard to a happy minimum over the wet winter months, a welcome result.

[David Patterson]

While spending my usually limited time in a marina, I find other compensations besides simple easy provisioning. Not all cruisers enjoy marina time, huddled cheek-by-jowl among other boats. One cruiser, an otherwise well-socialized former professional, told me she experiences being in a marina as similar to trying to live peacefully in an RV, while parked in a busy Sam's Club parking lot. I wouldn't go so far as that. I use the time between tasks partly for the study of other cruising boats, ones who might represent the fortunate joining of a good design with quality construction, as with our Cape Dorys. I hope I never become such a clubby brand-chauvinist that I stop admiring other good boats. Below is an older 30' Willard-designed (I think) handsome motor yacht. That little 6.5' Orca dinghy (dinghycompany.com) adds charm. The maker is down to a few special-order ones a year, as he ages. Great dinghies that age extremely well. The old wooden work boat has had a long productive life and is still at it. The boy in me is especially taken by that big spotlight. Meanwhile, slipped to port of me is a fine Bruce Bingham-designed Flicka, off-shore capable. Built by Pacific Seacraft? He solved the internal space restriction with an open cabin design and a high volume hull. Look online at photos. Notice the high freeboard forward. Alberg solved space issues on his 25D design by foregoing a vee berth, and returning the head to the traditional forward location. Good designing from both. The Flicka's name is SKO-ESKIN, Norwegian -I was told- for "shoebox." The owner has yet to remove her winter shrouding. Freezing temps and snow are somewhat rare here, in spite of being above 48.3* latitude.

[tjr818]

...A tea tree oil product (no connection to me) called Safe-T-Air kept mold growth aboard to a happy minimum over the wet winter months, a welcome result.

David, how much of the Safe-T-Air do you use aboard Cloud Girl? I can only find the 14oz jars. Do you keep other ventilation going, such as a solar powered vent or dorades?

[David Patterson]

Nothing so fancy as a solar powered vent aboard CLOUDIE, not yet anyway. No, just a slight opening of the forward hatch with the dinghy over it for protection, and the stern ventilators open for air flow. Next time I leave the boat for any winter months I may leave out two containers of the safe t air, but one already half empty one worked fine for 4.5 months. I call that good. A distinctive odor dissipates right away with an open hatch. Some people are allergic to tea tree oil. Powerful stuff, really.

[David Patterson]

In lieu of a haulout this spring, a diver came to the slip, a first for cruising on CLOUD GIRL. He arrived in his dry suit, sorted out his air hose, went right into the 45* water, and had the job done in 20". His inspection of the keel showed only a square inch or two of bottom paint missing, from last year's two soft groundings. No gel cost damage, and the surrounding paint's "halo effect" (as he called it) is keeping marine growth off. Not so for the transducer and the knot meter wheel. Both were home to shelled creatures, the paddle wheel in particular having a "big mussel" attached. The prop had barnacles as well. In warmer waters, later in the summer, I'll want to clean them again myself. The diver worked without gloves in the cold water, beyond my limits. The prop zinc was degraded, no doubt at least partly from all the stray electrical currents from nearby boats in the marina. You can see the old halves next to the screwdriver. It was about to drop away. The last photo is for any board member familiar with Friday Harbor, who might be viewing this evolving photo essay. A very popular waterfront seafood restaurant, Downrigger's, burned back in 2014. After a somewhat contentious design review process, and some serious sea wall work, the building is going up. I like what appears to be a dinghy delivery point, with steps to the water, for the marine store that will return, perhaps. The design of the multimillion dollar endeavor is to be more locally fitting than the boxy small hotel marked 123, in the background. This photo, over some motorist's recent pride and joy, makes the waterfront look far more modern than in actuality...and that's the local news item. Notice the crow on the flagpole above the tree. They gang up on the sea ravens to keep them away from the waterfront in town. A "murder of crows," indeed.

[Sea Hunt Video]

David:

As a diver who "cleans his own bottom" (S/V Bali Ha'i) I would be interested in exactly what took 20 minutes. Was it inspecting the keel and replacing the donut zinc or did the diver also clean/scrap the bottom to remove barnacles, growth, etc.

When I clean the bottom, prop and rudder on S/V Bali Ha'i it takes me approximately one (1) hour. I use an 8" dry wall tape knife (rounded at the edges) and then a scrubber brush identical to one in your photo (white handle with a blue scrubber). Admittedly, I am working in comparatively warmer waters but 50' is 50' whether the water temp is 45 or 75.

As for no gloves, that is a little surprising. I wear gloves to protect from getting cut by barnacles, etc. but you don't lose a lot of heat from no gloves. I am more surprised by no neoprene hood. A significant portion of a person's body heat is lost through the head (a lot of blood vessels up there - not so much for mine though )

Sometimes I miss my drysuit. I gave it to a good friend who runs a dive op in Arizona of all places. The waters in Miami can get "chilly" in Dec - Feb.

[David Patterson]

Hey, Roberto, I thought of you and your diving experience as I posted above. The diver certainly did wear a hood. You might see it by looking closely at him in the water photo, covering his shock of white hair. And that little brush was mine, not his. No bottom scrubbing in these US waters. Not sure about Canada. No ablative paints allowed anymore either. The typical paints can keep the hull good for a few years, around here. A light film of some organism will cover the bottom, a slime that impedes the boat little if at all. Beasties can attach to other appurtenances, of course, and must be knocked off. The warmer the water, generally, the faster they grow. The waterline seems to pick up a succession of organisms that can culminate in a fringe of grass or even mussels on some boats. Using a scratch pad now and then keeps it clean. Actually, this is a forgiving area. Not so where I hope to cruise in a couple of months. Toredo worms attack wood in many of the BC inlets. Warmer waters (70*s) encourage other growths. My depth sounder gets wrong pretty rapidly in warmer waters. Easier, though, to go down and clean it. So, no hull cleaning, just sounder, paddle wheel, prop shaft, and prop. Made me want to get some gear and instruction, so I can do it myself. David

[David Patterson]

Two views from a marina: In the first, a blue-hulled sloop motors in out the more open waters of San Juan Channel, heeling slightly under bare poles. She had just dropped what appeared to be an unreefed main, in 20 knots SE wind. Notice the windsock by the wharfinger's shack, standing out nearly stiff. The courtesy dock looks barren, but to be busy by May. The second photo is 180*, 12 hours later. The wind event had reached to 31 knots, maybe higher, in the night. The moon is about to set to the west, right at first light, the beginning of that morning nautical twilight period 20-30 minutes prior to actual dawn. All is serene again, the front passed.

[David Patterson]

Scenes at the docks. I'm hoping to get away in a few days, before my dock lines harden to become locked cables, dooming me to the slip, as so often happens to boat owners in a marina. First below is a converted sailing vessel. Rather than stop being aboard when no longer able to sail, perhaps the owner just removed mast and rigging, added the house, and kept cruising. Does the house counterbalance the keel enough to suppress rolling? In other words, is sea kindliness good? I'll ask if I see the owner. Second, for a mere $55k you could get this fine Dana 24 for sale. I must say, my 25D is more affordable for me, and I like the lines better. Fine craft though. Last is the harbor seal of the port marina. I've watched this well-fed and perhaps pregnant animal hunt this way multiple times. She (?) will herd a ball of fingerlings into a dock corner, behind a boat hull, then pick them off one at a time. Here she is on her back, as she herds them, keeping her eye on their movements. Sometimes she'll pin one against the hull with her muzzle until she gets it in her teeth. For a long time I wondered if seals can swallow under water. River otters cannot. Seals can, I read.

[David Patterson]

The experienced cruising instructor sets the problem for the sailing class: your sloop is docked on her starboard side at a stone dock known for dangerous wind and wave conditions. In fact, known for chewing up hulls, no matter how many fenders are out. Your only crew is two hours away by bus, picking up a replacement for your defunct radio. The winds begin to rise on the port beam, gusting Force 6 over an unbroken fetch. Pinning you to the dock. Just what the typically pessimistic Sailing Directions warned. Boats have docked after you closely fore and aft, but you are now alone at the dock. Help is not at hand. How do you leave for the nearest storm hole and save the boat? The class, motor-heads to a person, comes up with elaborate impractical solutions (for a single sailor) involving long warping lines, poling off, prop walk, and magically conjured bow thrusters, all ignoring the power of the rising wind and waves. The instructor's solution? "Kedge out an anchor and pull yourself off." Oh, right. "The prudent captain, after consulting the Sailing Directions, would have already placed it during the docking." Umm, right. Finally a class member ventures the question on several minds, "What is 'kedging'?"
**In a happily different situation, to see if I can make it work, I have a kedge out as an exercise in leaving a constricting marina dock, though easy enough to motor from, and though the engine is running well. I'll let you know how it works out. If it works out. I've tried to sketch the instructor's problem. The other photo is of my primary anchor and rode in the dinghy. It was my kedge choice from among my three deck anchors, in my current situation, for easy recovery at the bow over the roller. And because I'll want the weight, since the anchor won't be well set. Details and some technique considerations later.