Canada, Currents, and Torpedoes in the Strait of Georgia

Captain Gary and First Mate Kris

"Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than those you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from safe harbor. Catch the wind in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

— Mark Twain, Great American Writer

Lat/Long Coordinates: 49° 11.507 N, 123° 44.498, 49° 15.089 N, 123° 59.040

Leaving Cap Sante Marina

You got that Mark Twain, and guess what? We left safe harbor and caught some wind in our sails today! Fourteen hours of sailing (more than ever before), through the San Juan Islands and straight into the Strait of Georgia—which is notorious for huge waves if Ms. Georgia isn’t in a good mood, and the currents work against the wind. 

Also, we skirted the Navy torpedo testing range outside Nanoose harbor. If they're testing torpedoes and you're in their range you WILL have a helicopter come yell at you through a megaphone. True story.

We learned a lot today about wind and currents—and how to get into Canada on a boat without getting arrested.

We started in Anacortes WA, and ended in Schooner Cove, Canada—way past our original goal because Ms. Georgia was in a very, very good mood, and the currents were with us. We spotted Vancouver on the east, a sparkling smudge across the Strait. Did you know Vancouver, Canada isn't on Vancouver Island? Well now you do. 

If anyone wants to get out a chart for Vancouver Island and Georgia Strait (Google Maps works too), I'll show you how we charted our course at the bottom :). 

Before I tell you the rest, are you ready for some sailing tips? Because I’m dying to tell you :D

Tip #1 Tide is EVERYTHING. It pulls water in-between islands and up and down straights twice a day, causing currents that change almost hourly. With a current going your direction you can double your speed. If the pesky currents aren’t going your way they can just shove you back. Or bash you against the rocks, whichever comes first.

Tip #2 When the current’s going one way + the wind going the opposite way = WHIRPOOLS. BIG WAVES. MAYHEM. 

Lucky for us, the current was with us almost the whole way, with sunny skies, so for Canadian Customs, we reached it by noon. "It" was just three small docks in a little bay, with an office up on the beach. We passed a $1,250,000 yacht on our way in, where they had headsets to communicate bow to stern. Of course we had our own preparations to take care of. We had to make sure we were flying an American flag. Only one person could get off (the captain, AKA Dad). But it was actually easier than I thought it would be. They didn't search our vessel, though they did take a gander at our passports and asked if we had anything worth $10,000 or more on our ship. Dad said, "I wish I did." 

Port of Entry for Canada on a boat

For those who haven't been over Canada by land, this was a breeze compared to Canadian security at the land border. They like, glare and yell at you if you open your car door and make you throw out your strawberries. Not that I'm hating on Canada. Canada rocks. #forrealsies

Captain Mark and Captain Gary charting

Tip #3 At a distance, a kayaker just looks like a poky log. Take a second look before you run them down, and as Captain Mark suggests, have someone else take a look too. This happened in real life yesterday, BTW.

Tip #4 Use one of the pointy thingys in the picture to chart. (Dividers) It measures nautical miles.

We left Anacortes, crossed the Strait of Rosario, then entered the San Juan islands, passing delightful places like Orca Island and Galiano Island. At the tip of Galiano we headed due east and entered the Strait of Georgia, following the coast of Vancouver Island all the way past Nanoose Harbor to Schooner Cove.
Headed for Octupus Island tomorrow--sounds mysterious right? We'll let you know if a Kraken turns up. Sail on!

Skipper Krystal

P.S. Saw some cool boat names at the Cove: The Codfather, Kraken, and Sunny Daze :D

Beautiful scenery along the way

Photo cred:Alyssa and Krystal

Kayakers Vancouver Island

Deception Pass, Boat Dock Serenades, and the Laundry Police

“No waters can swallow the ship where lies

The Master of ocean and earth and skies.

The winds and the waves shall obey thy will:

Peace, be still.” – Master The Tempest Is Raging, Mary Ann Baker

Lat-Long Coordinates: 48.5126° N, 122.6127° W

Does a day qualify as big if you walk across a bridge tall as the Tower of Pisa, play and sing hymns on an old piano in front of several hundred boats, and have security show up when you try to do your laundry? I’d like to think so. Deception Pass was the bridge and two burly guys showed up at 11:00 PM to confront us about our after-hour suspicious laundry activity. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

We left La Conner WA this morning for Cap Sante Marina, the Star's new home for just a night. After last minute preparations before we enter Canada tomorrow, we went to Deception Pass, a treacherous pass where many ships have met their final fate. You can walk across Deception Bridge with only a waist-high handrail between you and a very long drop. The sunset was beautiful against the cliffs, and it was a hard place to leave.

As for the piano, it is a permanent resident of the Marina, exposed to all kinds of weather. The piano was rough around the edges, out of tune, yet somehow sounding more beautiful in its imperfection. Playing it was a very fun experience, made yet more special by our dock neighbors, Willie and Herb Stark, who we met in the Marina. Together we sang hymns as the sunlight disappeared, including "Master, the Tempest is Raging," as we looked out on Padilla Bay. 

Boys in blue with guns came into the laundry facilities to inquire as to how we got in AFTER HOURS? Luckily, no one had to post bail--and they didn't confiscate our undies.

Since this is a longer entry than usual, I did the short version above, and the long version below. If you want to hear about FBI-style boat talk, and some worthwhile Captain Mark quotes, read on.

As I said in my previous entry, we left La Conner early this morning, Captain Mark included. Going under the Bridge of Terror wasn’t quite as terrifying this time, knowing what to expect (see previous posts about that little gem). Entering the new temporary dock of Cap Sante in Anacortes on the other hand, was a new experience.

I felt like I was in the FBI when Captain Mark demonstrated how to request admittance to a marina over radio. I quote,

Cpt. Mark: “Cap Sante, Cap Sante, this is Northern Star, requesting transient moorage, over.”

Marina: “Copy Northern Star, stand by…”

Cpt. Mark: “Name Gerber, Gray G, E echo, R ruby, BER.”

Marina: “Copy Northern Star, proceed to dock Charlie C, slot 42.”

At which, both parties got off with polite thanks, we motored over to slot C42, and got off for the first time at Cap Sante Marina, and it is quite the place. There’s a huge chess set into the ground and a beautiful, weathered piano sitting out storm or shine at the highest point of the dock, overlooking hundreds of boats and wide, blue Padilla Bay.

Intent on the last preparations before we cross the Canada border, we headed out. A new boat prop costs—well a lot. As Mark put it, “BOAT really stands for Break Out Another Thousand.” We passed streets like “Latitude Lane” and boatyards where it looked like they were building the Ark. Much shopping later, at last we were finished with preparations. But before we left Washington completely, likely never to explore again, we knew there was one place we had to go.

Deception Pass.  Famous for its bridge that makes the Bridge of Terror look like a Bridge of Serenity, Deception Pass is surrounded by pine-grown sheer cliffs, and has unpredictable currents that have sunk boats for centuries. Lucky for us, you can walk across the bridge—if you’re brave enough. It’s a hundred and eighty foot drop to the sea, about the same height as the Tower of Pisa (wrong continent, I know). Jack had to spit over the side, and it took six full seconds as we watched for it to hit the ocean below. There’s only a waist high handrail between you and certain death.

But it is so worth it.

The sunset was spectacular, gold and white on the clear sea and into the inlet beyond. The path down to the beach was lined with deep green ferns and trees it would take four of me holding hands to circle, their canopies too far above to see the top. Always, glimpses through the forest of the glittering ocean below were tantalizing. The beach, once we reached it was like salt and pepper—grains of black and grains of white, with water that was very, very cold. (Watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tpSZ6vWRWwY)

Bewitching as Deception Pass was, we did get back to the Marina late, but not after dark. Which meant a certain wind-swept piano was waiting for me.The weathered piano’s notes sounded watery themselves, each with a wavering loveliness of their own. The smooth ivory has chipped off in places, leaving gray wood beneath, that responded as I played, “Let Me Teach You How To Dance.” An old man lingered, avoiding eye contact, smiling out at the Bay until I finished and left, soon to return.

Yet the piano and I weren’t done with one another. See we made some friends down here on the dock. Herb and Willie Stark, Captain and First mate of Willie’s Tug—splendid people, and residents of slip C42. Natives of Texas, Herb and Willie are on their way into Canada, like us, and likewise we share some beliefs. I was dying to play some hymns on that piano, and when they heard our plan, the residents of Willie’s Tug wanted to join us. (Watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2E3MDzcyPdQ)

So as the last of dusk fell, the entire Marina rang out the notes of “Nearer My God to Thee,” “I Believe in Christ”, “Master the Tempest is Raging”, and “Sweet Hour of Prayer.” Our newfound friends sang the words with us “Ever my song shall be, nearer my God to thee!” It’s a comfort really, as we enter Canadian waters tomorrow that though at some point we may have “the sky o’ershadowed with blackness,” God’s master of the seas too.

As for the Laundry Security, apparently the door to the laundry facilities locks at 10. Somehow it was open for us, so we put in our laundry, went to the showers (They charge 1.25 for a five minute shower. Sheesh). Coming back to switch clothes to the dryer, soon enough to burly boys in blue with sidearms start unlocking the door, come in and want to know how we got in there?! Wet hair in turbans, we told them it was open. Happily, they believed us.

“You should have seen you girls eyes when we showed up,” one guard said with a smile. However, they showed us how to use the dryer. Serve and protect people! As we walked away, we heard one guard say earnestly to the other, “Maybe we should go check the locks on the bathroom, huh?”

So tomorrow we're set to cover 70 miles and go through Canadian customs (crossing fingers they don't throw all our food overboard. Those crazy Canadians. ;) It's a ten hour day, but we have quite the deadline. 9 days to go 700 miles. 

So Canada the Northern Star is comin'.

Skipper Krystal

Fireworks and Last Goodbyes

48° 23' 19.3704'' N122° 29' 46.59'' W

"It's out there at sea that you are really yourself."

-Vito Dumas

The Northern Star in La Conner, Washington

At last, the Skipper is typing this from her bunk on the Northern Star. Five minutes ago, I was watching a Great Blue Heron fish and walking the dock nearly for the last time. Because tomorrow, we leave La Conner Marina and never look back.

Months after our first sailing lesson in Utah, the moment has nearly come. We’ll pass under the Bridge of Heart-stopping Terror again. Mom has since found out that we probably only cleared it by 7 or 8 feet (I was sure fifteen was generous back then!). If there was a member of the BYU basketball team up there, he’d have hit the freeway. Shudder.

Skipper Krystal and First Mate Kris (mom)

Oh! I just saw fireworks outside my porthole window! Back in a sec…

Back. So apparently, La Conner sets off fireworks for no apparent reason—except us leaving tomorrow. Yes, I’m sure that’s it. Mom/First Mate and I sat on the stern and watched them burst into color over the pine trees.

The fireworks rather describes the night tonight. Magical, unexpected and a little bit chaotic.

It’s always a little chaotic when you introduce a new crew member to the boat after. Alyssa! Huzzah! The last of the crew that hadn’t met the Star! She said it felt roomier—and homier—yet shorter—and wider—all at once. But she loved it. “It doesn’t feel like we’re on something new. It’s like it’s just another home.” (I paraphrase slightly).

The Heron preening itself.

She and I walked the dock tonight while the Captain and First Mate were making some last preparations. We passed boats named Knot Irish, Orion’s Lady and Seafarer. The covered dock’s huge timbers creaked as we stepped, halting to take pictures of shadows on the water and crab pots. Just as we headed back to the Star, a Great Blue Heron swooped in, and instantly had an elated and faithful audience in us.

Turns out, herons look incredibly gangly and move with flawless grace. Our friend the heron stalked along the dock without making a sound, and seemed to have the patience of a saint, turning its head fractionally this way and that—and finally darting into the water, and coming up with a squirming flash of silver. The minnow was down his gullet in no time, with hardly a splash to show the fish’s demise. (Watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2UmxARZAqqg)

If the heron had the grace of a lady, it also had the manners of. After the meal, it daintily cleaned its beak in the water, and preened the long feathers on its chest, revealing deeper blue among the gray.

It was pretty well dark by then, and Alyssa’s arms were about to fall off from holding the heavy camera up for ten minutes straight, so we headed back to our floating home.

Another firework. :D

Skipper Krystal and Stewardess & Deckhand

Sunset in La Conner

Boom! Boom! La Conner hasn’t given up exploding things, but I probably have to give up typing things. I will clarify one thing. Though this is our last night in La Conner, we won’t totally head North tomorrow—only a hop in the right direction over to Anacortes—two hours closer to our goal. We pick up Captain Mark, and the on Thursday we will put in our first day of 10 hours sailing—hopefully crossing into Canada in the process. Nainamo is where we will go through customs—and hopefully they won’t throw out all our goodies.

We’re nearly there! I can smell Alaska now—or maybe that’s just the smell of low tide. But I will tell you this, the ocean here doesn’t smell the same. Not as fresh. Not as wild.

Or maybe I’m already imagining things.

Skipper Krystal

P.S. Alyssa and I will put up videos tomorrow. :)

Hey guys! This is Alyssa just wanted to say what a blast today was! This was my first time seeing Seattle and then going to La Conner. It was so beautiful and I am grateful I can come on this trip.

Seattle, Washington

          

     

        

The V Berth with Skipper Jack

The Beginning and the Last

By Skipper Krystal:

Coordinates: 39.3210° N, 111.0937° W

Today marks the beginning and the last. The last week to prepare to leave has been a fury of creating ship’s logs, trolling Amazon, and packing our bags. Today the Captain and First Mate set forth to prepare the Northern Star for final departure.

We’ve imagined this moment a lot, with no small amount of exhaustion. After all, we’ve been preparing for much longer than a week. We’ve prepared with sailing books, with GPS, with detailed charts. We’ve prepared our minds with classes and lessons and reading. The Star is prepared with new rigging, a finally fixed transmission, and countless expensive details too exhaustive to record. Prepare, work, think, plan—pay, search, fly, call—we’ve done it all. The Captain and First Mate’s burdens have been especially heavy, held up with a heroic effort and a great deal of faith.

Because the truth is, none of us really knows how it feels to watch the sunset from the bow or lie in our bunks at the fringe of the Pacific. To face into the wind when it cuts across the sea, trusting that the Northern Star will get us through. How will it feel to watch the coast go by knowing it is something we’ve never seen—and likely never will again?

So truly we’ve been chasing a promise these past months. Truthfully without God we would have given up the chase long ago, but after the end of this learning journey before we ever left port, I’m sitting back grateful for the opportunity to sail into the unknown.

I think that is the true beauty of this adventure together. It is beyond our imaginations. Beyond our horizons. But only for now. Because in scarcely ten days the Northern Star breaks free of the marina and turns to the north. To chase a dream, and for God to widen our horizons.

So today, the Captain and First Mate pile in the van and head to La Conner one last time. Alyssa, Jack and I will follow in a little over a week, which makes me deeply happy. This voyage would be nothing without my family to share it with, and I’m so grateful to you all. And really glad you feel the same way. Because what else is a good crew for?

Those of the crew who may not take this maiden voyage with us, there’s new vistas waiting for you too! Because we’re not headed just anywhere. We’re headed to the wild North. And I can’t wait to find out what I’ve been missing. Can you?

Skipper Krystal

Part 2: Sailing Crash Course--Without the Crash?

By Skipper Krystal:

Coordinates: 48° 23' 19.3704'' N122° 29' 46.59'' W, 39° 19' 3.5184'' N111° 4' 55.9812'' W

The right-of-way goes to the vessel with the least competent crew.
-Mike Baiocchi

Boat show, boat shopping, boat prepping all led to the momentous morning: our first blue-water sailing lesson! Even though we’re a ways down the river from that now, it is still a milestone worth remembering as we grow closer to sailing North.

The morning after Part 1 was overcast and moody, threatening (and eventually delivering) rain. We were ready and waiting that morning, yet I hesitate to say excited. This was serious--if enjoyable--business, and we were determined to make the most of every moment we had to learn.

The start, as well as the whole experience, was very promising. Captain Mark came aboard bright and early. We all sat in the salon and got acquainted over blueberry muffins and potato chips, and things got chummy quickly.  The good captain sailed long before he thought of doing it for a living, and even tried his hand at taxi driving (and greatly enjoyed it, apparently). Still, we are very glad he decided to change his pace, and he soon taught us there's much, much more to sailing than the sails. Observe:

Tip #1 Any sailing day starts with checking out the engine. Captain Mark was emphatic that every day when you head out, there are certain things in the engine that must be checked. And don't forget to unplug your power from the dock. Reasons obvious.

As for the shoving off, lets just say there was an unexpected and very swift current directly behind the boat--and some subsequent, hasty problems. But there's not a scratch on our sturdy Ms. Star, and soon we were chugging down Swinomish Channel on our way to Padilla Bay for our very first blue-water sailing lesson.

Tip #2 There's a great, GREAT deal of motoring in sailing. Especially in skinny places like Swinomish Channel. So its good practice when you first take hold of the wooden, lovely wheel to learn quickly, and get used to the thudding of the engine under the boards.

Tip #3 When passing under a bridge, try not to pass out when it looks like you're going to snap off your sixty-foot mast. According to Captain Mark, we cleared it by a good fifteen feet. Which wasn't as comforting as it should have been.

Blogger has limited video size, so the video of us going under the bridge is here. Prepare for some stomach churning:

Tip #4 Watch the buoys, not the GPS. GPS's may chart a course, but they don't see logs or other boats or rocks the GPS forgot to mention.

Actually, sailing is pretty nerve-wracking for a newbie (I assume it gets easier). Captain Mark was apt to say, "In a perfect world..." But always he followed with something that wasn't quite perfect. Because driving a 42 foot sailboat is like trying to drive a school bus on ice (another Captain Mark quote). The tiniest correction has to be gauged, because give it some time and old Ms. Star WILL turn--sometimes much more than you want, and surprisingly tightly.

But it is splendid to feel that entire ship turn when you move the wheel four inches--and to see the sails pull tight and catch the wind. And when Mark had me turn the wheel as far as it could go, and spin like a top in the water (not as fast, but very tight) I couldn't quite believe how responsive she was.

Dad, physics teacher he is, proved unusually apt at docking in what Mark called difficult/advanced conditions with wind and rain pushing against us broadside. Jack grew just as adept at jumping off and tying the boat off, because with a ship as large as the Star (relatively large, anyway) you can't dock a thing without having a crew to tie her off and handle buoys.

Not gonna lie though. When Captain Mark advised First-Mate Mom to aim for those steel refineries on the coast, she had to remark later, "That's why I want to go to Alaska. Where I'm not going to even see a refinery."

Sailing back to Le Conner Marina, Mom and I went belowdecks and took a nap, and I'm telling you, there is no sleep quite like sleeping on a sailboat going through some slight swells. In the best way. I'm looking forward to more just like it.

Long and short, Jack and I went home after that, leaving Mom and Dad to try and tie up the loose ends. Yet there were many more loose ends than we thought. Remember that radioactive transmission back in March? The troublesome thing still isn't fixed--two months later. And I'll just say the initial cost estimate (and availability of boat-transmission-repair people) was a bit...optimistic. Though the Captain has always been more than aware of all the countless details that needed done, and has therefore been very understandably stressed. Enter Quartermaster Jason, who flew from Utah to stay on the boat with the captain, climbing the mast six times and proving he's worth his salt time and time again. Trips to Lowes, conservative estimate: 20 (correct me if I’m wrong), once for a single washer. Now that’s dedication.

Since then Stewardess April has also spent time on the ship—and thought it was mucho weirdo at first, like the rest of us, until the rocking and creaking settled into your bones.

In Part 1, the feelings of the others on the boat weren't much discussed. As for Boat-Swain Jack, I know he enjoyed it, but he had the V-Berth and used it as a sort of lair that he retreated to at night like a lovable, nocturnal vole. So many of his unspoken, yet doubtless wise, observations can only be guessed at by me, and hopefully illuminated by Jack himself in the comments. Any of the rest of the crew (including April and Jason, who since have been aboard the Star) feel free to share your feelings. Hint, hint.

Now, this is all Skipper Krystal can really add to the log from the past. The present is another story. Tomorrow we’ll be picking up the letters for the Northern Star, and the Captain and First Mate are preparing to leave on Sunday to get the vessel outfitted for our trip north.

Like any good voyage, there is more to come. Hold onto your halyards.

Skipper Krystal

Before the Voyage Part 1: Skipper Returns

By Skipper Krystal:




Coordinates: 48° 23' 53.2176'' N 122° 29' 36.3372'' W; 39° 19' 15.528'' N111° 5' 37.4316'' W

"If a man is to be obsessed by something, I suppose a boat is as good as anything, perhaps a bit better than most."

-E. B. White

Skipper Krystal is at last back to keeping the log book, and there's a lot to log. In my last entry Boat-Swain Jack and I still hadn't sailed so much as a newspaper boat in the bathtub. None of the crew had seen our dinghy yet (nor had it started leaking. More on that later). I was blissfully unaware that I'm sort of terrible at rowing, especially for a skipper . And I didn't know how disconcerting and splendid all at once it is to feel and hear little wavelets lapping against the hull when you're falling asleep.

Yes, there's been a lot of water under the bridge, and the skipper's been under the weather, but now its time to set the books straight.

After that last entry, I put the laptop away, and a few hours later found myself in a Seattle hotel room, bunking on the floor while the Captain, First-Mate, and Boat-Swain got the two queens. (Hey, Boat-Swain Jack, I just realized. I'm pretty sure I outrank you. How come you got the queen? :D) The next morning, with great purpose, we ventured into Seattle, a weird city where even the fire stations have modern art on their lawns and mossy pine trees grow next to sky scrapers. We were searching for a dinghy and surplus boat junk, and our first stop was the dinghy shop. A whole shop for dinghys, just imagine! (auto-correct says 'dinghys' isn't a word. What is the plural for 'dinghy' then?).

From my personal logbook, I wrote about the experience: "We found a dinghy that had been in the warehouse for ten years lost, and now he’s selling it, but because it is old he was selling it half price—the only way we could afford it. God was watching out for us on that, a very good day too. We went to a fun, eclectic Mexican restaurant, Me and Jack and Mom and Dad."

The Mexican restaurant was very good, (with sombreros everywhere) but what I didn't record is the rather fantastical sight of us streaking down the freeway with an 11.5 foot white dinghy strapped onto the top of the rented mini-van. It took almost an hour, scads of borrowed bubble wrap, two 2X4s and lots of rope before the Captain was satisfied our new boat wouldn't fly off and cause a massive pile-up: "Flying Dinghy Causes Traffic Jam on I-5". No, thanks.

Happily, we weren't a headline and made it to Le Conner safely. Jack and I climbed onto Northern Star and opened the hatch, getting a massive whiff of stale diesel (which they've since fixed). Inside it looked somehow different now that it was ours. I had to sniff in every compartment and peek in every cupboard. As for my first night sleeping on the Northern Star, this is what I wrote in my bunk: "First night on the boat. I’m lying here on the bunk with the sound of water lapping. It’s like sleeping in a bath tub." You're never quite the same after experiencing that. It's not just heard, its felt, and in your bones you remember.

We used the fish wheelbarrows to get our bags down to the ship, but how to get the dinghy to the sailboat was a bit of a problem. At last we decided to row it, the Captain and I, but soon I discovered rowing a dinghy is very different from a canoe. For one thing, the Captain insisted you row these things backwards, which makes no sense to me. Why shouldn't you face the direction you're going?Anyway, I flailed--it took us fifteen minutes to go thirty yards--but it was still fun.

Hanging the dinghy on the back of the ship.

That night we packed the un-dinghy-fied van full of stuff from Wal-Mart.  Mom and I scoured the aisles coming away with things we were looking for and some we weren’t; everything from a glue gun to a ship-in-a-bottle that we couldn't resist. It took wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow to get it all down to the ship, and then it exploded in the salon, while we attempted to organize it. Amazingly it all fit, and fit well, and something psychologically changed once we'd put all that stuff in its place. It felt like we were making it our own.


The Salon Post-Wal-Mart

The second night aboard was different. I wrote: "I’m overwhelmed tonight. Every sense is being challenged with this thing. I’m loving it". The cans and can opener were in place, but we all knew that on the morrow, we'd meet Captain Mark, who would teach us to sail Northern Star hopefully all the way to Alaska.

Still, that was so near the beginning. Now, all but Alyssa have slept on the Northern Star (your time is coming, Stewardess), but that night, there was still a great deal of uncertainty. Did we maybe have some issues casting off?

You'll just have to find out in Part 2. Suffer. ;)