Prologue
The wind finally arrived.
From the stern, I watched an ominous fog bank creep nearer and nearer as we sailed into it. A gust slammed into my shoulder from starboard. The sleek boat answered instantly, laying farther onto her port rail and accelerating as if someone had pressed a non-existent throttle. We were quickly skimming the choppy surface of the water on a beam reach, the wind at ninety degrees to the direction of travel billowing the sails.
I'd spent four days waiting for this wind that formed white caps all around us, visible evidence of the constant 20-25 knot wind that limited the amount of sail we could unfurl. I took in the leaden skies, choppy water, and wind whistling through the rigging thinking, this is why I love to sail.
Not everyone enjoys this, I realized quickly thereafter as Michelle reappeared from below, looking ashen and not her chipper self. The south wind was fighting the north current and churning the water, bouncing the hull this way and that. These conditions that I love were taking a toll on her.
Saturday, July 11
Ann said it best last night, "It does not feel like we are going on vacation. It feels like we are going to spend time with friends." I agreed. It felt both familiar and good to return to Bellingham and the Northwind, sailing the San Juan Islands once again with Jon and Jette. This time, we would be joined by Andreas and Michelle—visiting friends with friends.
Over the past few months, cutting out cell phone use has helped me sleep better, through the night. I feel much more rested. Uncharacteristically, I awoke at 0437 and had trouble falling back asleep. As I worked through it, I realized I was excited for the trip and was itching to go.
Driving north on US 97, it seemed a normal July day, sunny and promising to be fairly hot, heat that we hoped to escape on the waters of the Salish Sea. Each Cascade peak that we passed seemed barer than the last, almost all of the snow melted after last winter's dearth of snow pack, the driest summer that I can recall.
Despite the tinder box conditions, crops were in full swing. In Jefferson County which produces the vast majority of carrot seeds for the entire country, fields of carrots lined the highway, their white blooms swaying in the breeze. Harvest of the carrot seeds will come in September, but is already underway for alfalfa and wheat. The air smelled vaguely of peas as we passed mowers cutting alfalfa, but there was no discernable smell in Grass Valley as the combines filled grain trucks with winter wheat, bound for the storage piles in Wasco.
Yakima makes a great halfway stopping point for a bite to eat and a bathroom break. Last year, we found a gem in the El Mero Mero Camaronero food truck at Bale Breaker Brewing. We were surprised by the excellent quality of the food truck's beef and shrimp tacos, not to mention the unusual but delicious combination of proteins. Fortunately, their one day a week at the brewery coincided with our visit again. The tacos did not disappoint as we ate them on the patio of the brewery built among Yakima's famous hop fields.
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| Beef and Shrimp Tacos at Bale Breaker Brewing |
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| Watching Argentina Defeat Switzerland at Juxt |
Sunday, July 12
Morning coffee is a priority and last year while walking, we discovered delicious pastries and coffee at Camber, so good that it was our sole must-do this year. We arrived at Camber to a long line out the door, many people caffeinating before attending the Pride Bellingham parade. All of downtown was a frenzy of people, many in rainbow garb. We felt fortune shining on us unplanned; watching the parade would be an entertaining diversion as we waited to board the boat.
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| Camber: a Must-Visit in Bellingham |
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| Ready for Bellingham Pride |
After our excellent coffee and a necessary side trip to a pharmacy, we could not find parking to watch the parade, so busy was downtown. Reluctantly, we headed away from the crowds toward Squalicum Harbor to find a light lunch before boarding at 1345. In passing, I spied a brewpub out of the corner of my eye, down on one of the piers. It looked like a nice place to while away time, so I made a U-turn. We had stumbled serendipitously onto Beach Cat Brewing right on the pier off of C Street. We had a couple of well-crafted brews, a bite to eat, and took in the sights on a gloriously sunny early afternoon.
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| Beach Cat Brewing: An Unexpected Pierside Find |
We arrived at the harbor not two minutes after leaving the brewpub. Stepping off the firm dock onto the gently moving boat, I realized that I would have to mind my feet and my balance as the surface shifted slightly beneath me. Like hiking a rocky trail, the rocking boat deck has trip hazards that require attention to handholds and foot placement.
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| Greeting Geni Once Again |
After unpacking, I settled into the cockpit with the others while Jon and Jette maneuvered us away from the pier. I put my phone in airplane mode, now officially on vacation and surrendering to the white noise of sailing—the waves on the hull and the wind in the sails and rigging. Outside the flatwater of the breakwaters, the swell picked up gently, a motion that I find soothing. Not soon enough for me, Jon killed the engine and set sails. As relaxing as I find walking and hiking, surrendering to the moment and going with the will of the wind and sea is even more relaxing.
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| Leaving Squalicum Harbor |
North of Lummi Island, we turned west while the mainland became fainter and fainter behind us. The retreat was barely noticeable from one glance to the next, but after watching the sea for a few minutes, I would look back to find Mount Baker smaller than before. Even the towers of metro Vancouver lingered on the northern horizon longer than seemed possible before they, too, gradually dissolved into distance.
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| Giant Canadian Flag on Grouse Mountain; Towers of Metro Vancouver |
In the midst of my zoning out and taking in everything around us—sea lions on the buoy, guillemots diving for fish, porpoises surfacing—Jette appeared with a tray of crab canapés, our signal to open a bottle of wine and relax further. The signs were all there for a great trip: sunny and mild weather, gentle seas, good friends, delicious eats, and great wine.
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| Three Cormorants and a Gull on a Nest |
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| Jette Drew a Doodle of our Trip Last Summer |
I had no expectations of where we might visit on this trip, knowing that Jon would steer for the anchorages that seemed best to him. It surprised me a bit in overhearing Jon and Andreas talking about the maybes in our trip. Last year, our itinerary seemed more fixed. This year, I really enjoyed the not knowing where we might end up.
The afternoon wore on with the Sucia Islands gradually resolving out of the horizon, becoming clearer bit by bit. This was not the view we had last year when we approached from the west, the Vancouver Island side, to anchor in Shallow Bay. The main island in the group is a horseshoe that opens to the east, As we slid between the sides of the horseshoe, a much bigger anchorage, Echo Bay, crept into view, complete with about forty other boats.
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| Harbor Mate: 1914 Wooden Boat "Glorybe" |
As we looked on, Jon deftly maneuvered the boat to the back of the bay in a small inlet tucked up against the island, whose cinnamon-trunked madrones rose above blond sculpted honeycomb-like sandstone rock formations, both glowing in the early evening light. Once the engine shut off after backing down on the anchor, silence took over.
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| Another Jette Ritual: The Anchor Dance |
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| Sucia Demands Photographs |
Nearing dusk, a biplane broke that silence, buzzing the bay, impressively looping and rolling barnstormer-style, while the final boat of the evening made its way slowly into the anchorage. Jon sighed audibly. Even from a long distance away, the bridge structure of a Coast Guard 87 was unmistakable. As it neared, I could read that it was the Sea Lion, the same 87 we saw on patrol last year. The peaceful stillness of the flat waters of the bay now had a background thrum of its twin diesels. Jon explained his sigh—they have a reputation for running a loud generator all night and staying lit up like a Christmas tree. I watched them tie off to their reserved buoy and then go dark quickly thereafter. They were good neighbors, remaining dark and quiet through the night, leaving first thing the following morning.
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| Good Neighbors: USCGC Sea Lion |
After a delightful meal of halibut, I climbed the ladder to the cockpit to take in the cool night air and the quiet of the anchorage. As the sky drifted from the final throes of pink and orange into black, I headed for a restful night's sleep.
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| Delicious Eats: Halibut, Orzo, and Asparagus |
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