At Sea, At Last

All of this messing about with boats is merely a preliminary to the actual first trial of the boat at sea.
It is always kind of exciting and at the same time intimidating to set out and try your luck. You have very limited information as to the weather other than the NOAA weather broadcasts and if you are set up for it the weather information provided by them on high frequency radio like HAM or SSB. We have not gotten around to the radio installation and tryout yet, but since we are going down the coast we will be in constant touch via the Weather radio from shore. Comforting, right?, not so much given the frequent discrepancy between the forecast and the actual meteorological occurrences in our vicinity.We have been seeking windy places for a couple of months now just to see how the boat performs in various conditions. We have become very experienced in light wind, but not so much in rough stuff.

When we left the San Juan Islands, we came down to the Strait of Juan de Fuca because of a small craft advisory which means winds above 20 knots(a knot is short for nautical miles per hour, roughly 1.1 mph). As is usually the case, we motored across the strait in 5-8 knot winds after sailing at 4-5 knots for a couple of hours and getting bored with just wandering along. Aside from the good marine facilities in Port Townsend, this is also one of the places in this part of the world that gets pretty frequent small craft advisories. Unfortunately, the wind usually comes up about supper time after a hard days labor on the boat which may or may not leave the boat in sailing trim at that time. Did I mention that it is really cold and damp when the sun goes down here? We only went out twice and never saw winds over 15 knots. The only time we saw big winds was at anchor the night before we moved to the marina after dragging anchor. This pattern of night winds repeated a couple of times while we were there. Most of the other anchored boats were at the docks come dawn, and back at anchor before the marina personnel report for duty.

We became rather expert on seeking out the wind in the ten or so years of avid windsurfing. Also quite accustomed to no show wind warnings. The small craft advisory was always the catch phrase for time to windsurf. We could drive 50 miles to be disappointed by low winds, unlike in the boat where what you see is what you get. When we anchored in Neah Bay, there was a small craft advisory both nights, and the wind was around 10-18 knots. Good sailing weather, but not at all threatening.

Although we are technically just going down the coast, this can be one of the rougher coasts to traverse, so we need to be ready for it.. The pacific is so large that sea activity travels forever in it, until it hits something or is overridden by other activity. If there is a monsoon in South Asia the waves from it will travel until the are interrupted. This was the case with the tsunami in Japan destroying marinas in California, for example. One reliable piece of information we can get from NOAA weather radio is the sea state, as they have a rather extensive set of buoys constantly measuring wave height and direction. When these waves approach shallow water, they tend to get much larger as the interaction with the bottom concentrates the moving effect on the surface. This is why surf breaks, we don't want to be involved in any surf. In deep water there is just a ripple effect, but when that ripple ends at shore there is a good bit of water movement in and out in very short order.

Another thing that makes this coast challenging is that there are not a lot of easy places to seek shelter if you get tired or don't like the weather. The terrain is rugged and when the weather is bad it can be very dangerous trying to cross the bar. "Cross the bar?" you may be wondering, what does that mean? Pretty much all the gaps in the land mass we are traveling down were created by erosion, mostly a river or rivers flowing to the sea and eroding a path in the process. Rivers generally are protected from the wind and simply flow downhill till they meet the ocean. The tides in the northwest vary in the northern

Another factor for us is fog. Hard to go in someplace you  have never been without any visual clues, and we don't have radar on this boat. The fog can reduce visibility to less than a boat length at times. Kind of like having a map of Steve's driveway and a blindfold on. Do you feel lucky? This coast is know for its fog, and the usual forecast includes patchy night and morning fog.

Did I mention the fishing boats? Most of the harbors with any protection are here to support the local fishing industry. This means lots and lots of boats going out every night to ride around in seemingly random paths trying to gather up some fish. They generally view recreational boaters as an insignificant nuisance, and are unlikely to make any effort to make it easier for us. They are generally the larger vessel with less maneuverability, and thus have right of way. They also have massive working light setups, some like a Kmart parking lot, which obscure any navigation lights which might give you a hint as to their course. They seem to have a random course programmed into the autopilot which includes lots of turns to get the nets into the schools of fish they have seen on their fish finders. They seldom have anyone looking for us and really don;t have to care, so we really have to keep eye on them when out at night in their playgrounds.

So why not just motor from harbor to harbor, spend the night and get up and do it again tomorrow?
All of the above factors play a part. The harbors are placed where the rivers exit the land or natural coves occur which can be fortified with jetties to provide protection. The nearest port below Neah Bay is Grays harbor which is about 100 miles south. If there is fog, as in the last post, we cannot safely leave until it burns off from the sun, usually around 10-12, but sometimes not at all. This cuts into the amount of time to reach the next port. If the fog comes in there in the evening, we can't get in anyway. If we motored at 6 knots( 1/2 gal per hour fuel consumption) we have about 15 hours running time to make 100 miles, oops the day is only about 12-14 hours long this time of year. We can motor a couple of knots faster but the fuel consumption doubles and the tank only holds 17-18 gallons. We carry another 20 gallons in jerry cans, but it must be poured into the tank to be used in the engine(not always a fun thing to try at sea). The spacing of the harbors is very random and there are several stretches which cannot be run in a day. The overhead of going in and out, finding an anchorage or dock space, and everything else makes it take a lot more time consuming. We spoke with a captain who motored the whole way from San Francisco to Bainbridge Island and it took over two weeks, stopping every night when possible. It is cold and foggy and not our idea of a good time doing it that way.

The alternative is to go offshore to the 100 fathom line(over 600 feet depth) and avoid most of the above and just deal with the wind and waves. This is about 30-40 miles offshore, so we still get the weather broadcasts as the antennas are generally on mountain tops and carry pretty far. This Is the choice we settled on due to all the above factors and we get to pretend we are crossing an ocean or such.

Finally, we will go to sea and get the real scoop from the weather gods with none of this adverse shoreline nonsense. The morning  dawns clear with winds forecast 10-20 from the northwest, light northwest swells. We go town and have showers at the marina, come back, weigh anchor, and off we go. We motor out of the entrance to J de F. due to the wind being about 10 knots dead in our face. When we clear the buoys we put up sail, but the wind is light and we are only making about 3-4 knots. We opt to motor for a while until the wind picks up. It's always a big high for me to put to sea, and this is nice even if there isn't much wind yet. Wind doesn't come up until about 4 pm, and then is only about 10-12, but we can sail at 5 or so off the wind, so off we go. About midnight the wind drops off and we are going 2, so time to motor for a while. Next day is pretty much motor weather all day and night.The two biggest complaints at this point are the boredom of sitting on watch for three hours at a time and being between the shipping lanes and the fishing boats, trying to watch them all and not get run over. At one point, I am passing one on my left about 500 yards off and he makes a uturn right at me. he gets about 100 yards away at closest approach. I sit and wonder "shit? or go blind?", tough choice.

In the morning we have topped off the tank twice from the jugs and we will have no fuel in about another 20 hours of motoring, so looks like we will be heading back toward port, as we are not ready to give up the motor as a propulsion option, especially after a couple of days of light winds. We eat huevos rancheros for breakfast and head into Coos Bay, Or. for a night of peace at anchor and a refill of the jugs and tank with diesel.

About 25 miles offshore , we pick up a hitchhiker looking to clear our decks of crumbs and rest a bit.

Our second try at anchor setting puts us in a very quiet cove with absolutely no wave action and not much wind. This was the quietest night at anchor since we have had Hot Sauce we are feeling good.

Next morning we head to the fuel dock, top off our tank and jugs and head out. There is already a 12-15 knot breeze from the north so we set sail as soon as we clear the inlet. Weather forecast is for small craft advisory winds north 15-25 knots easing to 10-20 after 11 pm. We decide to start out with a single reef in the main and roll the foresail in as needed. The reef system allows you to leave some of the sail tied to the boom and thus reduce the sail area of the mainsail. Unable to run dead downwind because the sails flog themselves if we do that, so we set off to the SW at about 6-7 knots.
As the day progresses, the wind builds along with the seas. We check the weather forecast, still small craft with a warning about 5-8 foot swells from the nw mixing with 4-6 foot wind swells from the north. kind of lumpy, but going 8-9 knots is good, and the occasional gust pushes us past 10 knots.
When they speak of swell size it indicates that every so often you will see one about 3 times the forecast size. When ever the North big ones cross the West big ones they ad together and frequently break giving some 20-30 foot seas which explode onto the back deck of the boat. We are pretty sheltered and the boat is riding it well, but the occasional geyser makes us very happy to have the dodger as the entire boat is soaked constantly.

As the wind builds even more the autopilot has a problem. One of the bolts linking it to the rudder has sheared. 1/4" stainless shouldn't shear under this stress, but I crawl out and replace it. It works fine. At this time I noticed the head sail is starting to tear apart.

I roll it in to about half size to minimize damage. It is important to have a head sail to keep the front end of the boat  countered to the force of the boom as the main takes the gusts. Replacing the sail would involve some time at the fore peak, which we feel would be imprudent in these seas, as it plunges into a wave back every now and then. At dark the wind shows no sign of abating and is now gusting to about 30. The boat zips up to 14.5 knots in a gust. I reef the main sail to the second reef, which is as small as it can be made with the reefing system. I look at the wind instrument and it reads 24, so we are running downwind and the combined wind is well above 35. The swells are getting huge and it is time to check the weather radio again. The small craft advisory was changed to a gale warning at 8 pm and it is now almost dark. We roll in the foresail because it is too risky to come up into the wind and lower the main in these seas, which appear to be about 40 feet high in the big ones.
Fortunately, the autopilot is steering and we are still zooming off the waves in the gusts. At about 11:30 at night the autopilot has a problem. I take the helm by hand and Joan gets the flash light. The other bolt on the tiller bracket has sheared, and there is no chance I am going back to attempt a repair. The forces of the boat being hit by waves from random directions and the load the boom takes in the 40 knot gusts make it very hard to steer, and it would be a bad thing it it ripped out of Joans hand and capsized the boar while I was on the back fiddling with the autopilot. I steer by hand for a few hours and realize my body is giving it up.  I look up at the sail and it has detached from the boom along the upper third and has a basketball shaped hole in the edge further down. If it gets fouled in the rigging, there will be no more options, so we round up and pull as much of it down as we can from the cockpit. We are now running "bare poles"  with a bit of tattered canvas flapping at 8-9 knots. At least now Joan can spell me at the tiller, as there is not much force without the mainsail up.
It is a long night, very cold( all this lovely wind courtesy of alaska) and I light the heater in the cabin, so that off watch can thaw out. Dawn comes and the wind drops slightly, now about 30 gusting 35. As we get closer to shore the seas get a little less severe and the wind drops to about 25 knots. We are still making about 6 knots with no sail up.
\The coasties broadcast a bar bulletin for Eureka and it is dangerous, but passable. 15-20 foot steep seas, wear your life vest and let us track you through it kind of passable. we get inside about 1 pm and head to the municipal marina. The marina has a spot for us with the fishing boats and we get to take a break. Joan looks at the gps and sees that we had a max speed of 20.3 knots.

Fortunately, when the boat surfs at these speeds the helm gets very light and is easily controlled because you are taking 20 knots off the apparent wind. Just don't make any sudden movements.
Cheated death again..