Month: September 2020

Another week in the bay, and everyone is a doctor.

They officially gave us their bike. The Chilean couple. It’s awesome. We do need to get a bike pump, and we already had to get the brake cables replaced, but still, its awesome and we’ve been wanting one ever since we got into the boat life!

We were in Berkeley to see my high school friend Ben. Ben got his Ph.D from Berkeley in August and his girlfriend Katie will graduate in June. Ben lives in a Sprinter van, so it was fun to compare the experience of the land based version of our life. Plus it was fun to talk to doctors studying immunology in this day and age.

With all guests, priority #1 is taking a dinghy ride.

We motored out of the Berkeley marina for a spectacular view of the bay and the bridge, a group selfie, and a view of the “Chubby Girl”. If you want a half hour of entertaining reading, the blog explains everything – but basically an old dude wants to set the record for shortest boat to ever sail to Hawaii. It’s 9 feet.

The next day we got a tour of Berkeley. It’s a cool town with tons of amazing food.

We hiked the hill and saw down onto the Berkeley football stadium and saw over Oakland and the bay.

We collected lemons just walking down the sidewalk (mind blowing), and visited the Hispanic grocery and got back to the boat.

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The next day we motored against a strong current to Angel Island. We hiked around the island, explored the abandoned buildings, and pulled up some crabs!

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Then we wanted to save money so we motored to Richmond and got the cheapest marina yet at $24 a night. Plus they had free ice so that makes it the best marina ever.

Troy, my best man, had a childhood friend who also is a Berkeley grad who wanted to grab a drink so we invited him and his girlfriend to enjoy a dinghy ride picnic. We putzed around the marina looking at all the boats, gossiping about Troy, and talking about the future of batteries (their concentrations). So we’ve officially had 4 straight doctors visit Scooter.

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The next day we got up early and motored to Aquatic Cove and met my childhood friend Annie and her husband Steve. She’s a nurse practitioner and he just finished his Ph.D so now we are up to 6 doctor visitors in a row. They have a tiny house in Santa Cruz so they were also interested in comparing tiny living notes.

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The next couple nights will be with Tay’s high school friends. Although they aren’t doctors, their energy level is unmatched.

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Also I’m sorry this was a day late. We were back at Angel Island last night, but this time had zero cell service (idk why they think this is the tech center of the universe).

2 Weeks in the Bay Area and so much to see!

For the first few days in San Francisco, we settled in. We did a lot of boat cleaning and organizing and even more sleeping. Taylor took charge and planned a day-long date. We jumped on a bus, got kicked by a woman, sneezed on, farted on, and eventually made it to our destination. Nothing against public transit. In fact, the busses are incredible. But the one woman we might have brushed with our backpack was not so enthusiastic. 

We went on a scenic hike, saw some cool old bathhouse ruins, hung out on the beach, and had a picnic. It was an awesome way to introduce ourselves to SF. 

I was nervous about having wine on the beach. And I think technically it’s illegal. But we found out the vibe here is very accepting of alcohol in parks and beaches, especially during COVID. We quickly fell in love with the picnic culture.

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We left the expensive marina and motored over to Aquatic Cove. A nice anchorage near fisherman’s wharf operated by the National Parks Service. It’s only open to sailboats so we took advantage of that exclusivity. People use the cove like a public swimming pool so it was full of swimmers. That made for one of the most complicated anchoring processes we’ve attempted thus far, but we were successful nonetheless. Another challenge was figuring out how to successfully lock up our dinghy on a packed public beach. It required buying a long bike lock and being willing to drag it way up on shore but we got it sorted and Scootie, to date, has not been stolen. 

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Taylor’s high school friend Nikki drove up from Cupertino to do touristy things with us. We wandered fisherman’s Wharf, got clam chowder in the bread bowls, looked at the sea lions, and had some prime people watching.

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The next day was my turn to plan the adventure. Taylor had yet to experience real Ramen, so we started with a Japanese lunch. It was excellent, but I think our take away was that the fifteen cent ramen with a soft boiled egg will continue to be sufficient. And we might have to start growing sprouts on the boat.

Then we bussed to Alamo square, wandered the park with the famous SF painted houses (which apparently had something to do with the Full House house).

Then we got e-bikes and explored all of Golden Gate Park.

The park is huge and we got hungry, so we had to have our own picnic.

On the way home, we stopped at Buena Vista and enjoyed a famous Irish Coffee. Thank you to everyone for the recommendation. Although it was $18, it was worth it.

Yesterday we cruised over to Berkeley and tucked into the city marina. We are tied next to a retired Chilean couple who have done spring/summer in opposite hemispheres for 30 years until Covid forced them to have a fall on their boat.

They’ve been so welcoming. They immediately helped us tie up, adjust our fenders, gave us beer, offered us a ride for groceries/laundry, have tried to give us their folding bike, and have already rattled off an encyclopedia worth of knowledge of cruising this area.

We’re looking forward to more days enjoying the bay. Please send any recommendations if you have them!

We want to do this trip to meet people and to do our best to love strangers on the dock. The first dock we spent any time at was in Newport, and it was a flood of amazing people. Here’s a recap of the few days we spent at the transient dock

Our neighbors on the dock, SV (Sailing Vessel) Celestial, a young couple helped with so many things. They made us cookies, gave us sail repair tools, taught us about the commercial fishing game, and loaned us their dive mask. They also made us feel much more relaxed about the coast and the sand bars. They were sailing North (which we thought was unheard of) from Moss Landing, CA, to the Puget Sound and had done the coast a handful of times. They also had the best dog. A blue heeler Jack Russel mix named Bruno. 

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SV Voodoo Child housed two brothers in their early 20s and their enormous cat, ‘Bigfoot’. They sailed South from Seattle a day after us. They shared some weather routing info but mostly inspiration. They’re planning on heading to California before turning right to Hawaii on a much smaller vessel than ours. They also taught us about the liveaboard culture in Seattle, which makes me less inclined to ever live on land again. Right as we were leaving, they offered a huge bag of cucumbers. Apparently they had a crate full from a local farmer and were getting sick of them, so we hit the jackpot. 

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Bob, an older gentleman on his trawler, was making his way up the coast from California to the Puget Sound and eventually up the inside passage to Alaska. He was a retired ferry captain and had sailed his 50-foot sailboat across the Pacific several times. He shared tons of sailing stories and information. He also tried to get us to buy his sailboat, the last remaining asset in his divorce. It’s only slightly out of our budget. He was a wealth of sailing information.

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Keith, the dock attendant was in his 60’s or 70’s and quickly became my favorite person. He was witty, softspoken, and looked like he had spent every day of his life in the sun. Then he mentioned his sailing resume. He had taken a sailboat around the world and spent most of his life cruising in the South Pacific. His advice to me was to enjoy the islands but don’t bring back a wife. He brought back a beautiful Samoan, but said now all he’s left with is an old Samoan woman with an “ass like an ox and a temper to match”.

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We met two guys down from Portland. They were approaching retirement and took two weeks off to get ready for a retirement full of cruising. They had one week to get as far South as they could and one week to get back. They were likely the most expert sailors on the dock. They had no hesitations about the Columbia River, or a hurried cruise up and down the pacific coast. They’re also the guys we suspect bought us Crowlers in Florence. 

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The coast guard captain who towed us in immediately became Taylor’s hero. She wielded her 47’ vessel and all-male crew like a master craftsman. Her title was a surfman. Meaning her job is to operate her boat in the worst conditions it can handle. And it can handle everything.  That boat was self-righting, could be rolled and swamped and keep steaming along. All the operations can be done from inside at a seat with a 5 point harness. It looked like a spaceship. When we were done being rescued, she traded us a tour of her boat in exchange for a chance to hold and snuggle Eunice. 

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It also was fun to be in a marina/RV Park. All the retired RV-ers would get bored and come walk the docks. Most a little too early in the morning for us sailors, but some we had great conversation with. Tim, a former sailor had a long list of great questions and as a retired heavy equipment mechanic had advice for our little diesel operation. He revisited Monday and Tuesday to see us off each time our plans changed. I didn’t get any good pictures of Tim but here’s a few of the public fish cleaning station.

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On our dinghy ride, we made friends with the entire marina. Something about 4 beer-drinking friends on a tiny raft is disarming, and throw in a kitten on my shoulder and everyone wanted to be a part of our party. 

A 12-year-old kid fishing off our dock made friends with Nelson. Apparently the kid almost hauled in an eel but his lure broke at the last minute. An hour later he re-caught the same eel and got his lure back. The eel was 1/4” shy of the state record. Another hour later the kid returns and offers Nelson one of the fillets! The Eel appetizers that night were fantastic! 

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Newport was good to us. We’re so happy to be cruising and now need to figure out what we can offer to all the boats around us.

We left Coos Bay, bright and early the morning of the 11th. We motored, as planned, for 26 hours. No wind on the forecast or in reality. Instead, it was us, millions of jellyfish, dense smoke, and relatively smooth seas, which was nice as I was finally able to cook a gourmet dinner at sea.

Around 10 am on the 12th, the wind kicked up and we threw up our sails. All-day Saturday we enjoyed calm seas and enough wind to clip along at 5-6 knots. We grilled out for lunch on the back of the boat, had some glimpses of the sun through the fog/smoke, and overall had a great calm day of progress south. Saturday evening, the winds built to 15 knots and we put a reef in the mainsail and dropped the headsail. Winds continued to build until nightfall when steady winds of 25 knots and building waves spun the boat around backwinding the main, leaning the boat hard and confusing the autopilot beyond recovery. For 15 minutes we wrestled Scooter back under control, put a second reef in the main, and adjusted our course to better avoid backwinding our sail.

We had a preventer installed. Basically a rope to keep the sail from backwinding and flipping sides in gusty winds and waves (jibing). Unfortunately, our preventer couldn’t handle the wind load and stretched and the sail switched sides anyway. In the process it bent our side railings down into a slack mess of steel cable.

Scooter surfed along the rest of the night without incident, and making good time. Although the waves prevented any crew from getting meaningful sleep.

It was a relief to have calmer seas by mid morning and by late afternoon Sunday, the wind had all but died. We fired up the motor, Greg, and got ready for the last stretch. We sailed off and on for the final night, and approached the tight route plotted between Point Reyes and the shipping lanes in dense fog. Dawn broke Monday and we finally saw land.

At 11 am Monday, Scooter crossed underneath the Golden Gate Bridge. We toasted with beers (from a boot) and took lots of pictures.

We found a marina with availability and tied off. It was such a relief to make it to San Fran, not being towed by the Coast Guard. We enjoyed our showers, and were so grateful to have a stationary bed for a night.

Joe and Nelson flew out this morning, back to the real world.

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Now we get to settle into our new home for a few weeks. We need to figure out where to stay, how to enjoy a champagne city on a beer budget, and what the plan for the next leg is. But for now, we’re back to life on our tiny home with a great evening view.

We left Florence in dense fog. Through the draw bridge without being towed by a coasty rig.

Motored all day, keeping a double watch for crab pots. It was a fairly easy day, but mostly because nothing went wrong.

We listened to books on tape, chatted, didn’t get sea sick, and had zero wind to put sails up.

Eunice spent the day getting passed from the inside of one coat to another…she might have attachment issues if we ever go back to real life.

Ultimately, we motored into Coos Bay under our own power & steering. It was a relief so here’s some additional highlights from the last day or so:

Nelson bought a crab ring and crabbing license in Newport and had some success!

The free dock gate locked at dusk so I fashioned a ‘key’ with a pry bar to get back in after dinner:

Some kind, anonymous stranger delivered three Crowlers to our boat! (We suspect the nice gentlemen from portland we met in Newport who also sailed into Florence a few hours after us)

And then we sailed in dense fog and had to be fully garbed to stay warm:

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Coos Bay & the town of Charleston will be a quick stop. A night sleep and some Diesel, and we’ll be off for the Capes and SF.

Since we left Port Townsend, we’ve pulled into 4 ports. Sekiu for fuel, Newport, Florence, and Coos Bay.

Unfortunately, two of the four ports we were being towed by a Coast Guard vessel. It’s been humbling but we still are trusting our preparation, planning, and our little fiberglass bathtub of a home.

We left Newport bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Tuesday afternoon. We were fully provisioned and prepared for a 30-hour sail to Coos Bay. We anticipated a combination of motoring and sailing as the wind was suspected to be inconsistent from the east. The sky was orange with smoke and very eerie. 

Around midnight, under motor, we heard a loud clunking, and our motor shut off. 

We had run over a crab pot, fixed to a line & buoy and coiled the rope tightly around our propellor shaft, enough to shut off our little diesel motor Greg. With a newly acquired anchor, we got bashed by waves for a bit until we were able to cut free the crab pot but still had a rats nest bound around our propellor. 

We did our best to sail, staying optimistic about fixing things when the sun came up, or sailing into the next safe harbor. When I woke up for my 2:30 am shift, it was clear that wasn’t going to work. Winds were too light to make meaningful progress, the odds of us sailing across a dangerous bar to calm waters were slim, and the prospect of having one of us dive and cut the prop free in ocean swells without a mask or goggels while the boat bashed up and down in the waves seemed too dangerous. 

So for the second time in a short journey, we hailed the Coast guard. They were professional, sympathetic, and asked all the protocol questions about our vessel taking on water, having food, life jackets, other hazards etc. 

They sent the same model ship out to us, tied off, and began the 5 mile tow into Florence. 

We got into Florence at 5:30 am, humbled and pretty worried the trip was over. The motor was bound up, and wasn’t all that trustworthy to begin with. 

No one in town had any dive gear. the best we could come up with were youth sized swim goggles at the dollar store. 

Joe dove in with his tiny goggles, and a freshly sharpened knife. Praise God, and a big shoutout to Joe’s tenacity. He was able to slice through the corkscrew of rope and free the prop shaft. 

Amazingly, the shaft wasn’t bent, and the motor restarted with a cough and spun corrrectly and freely in forward and reverse. We were back! 

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A few hours of planning, organizing the boat, and a pizza dinner sponsored by Nelson, and we were ready to ship out. We called the draw bridge in Florence and scheduled an opening at 6 AM Thursday morning. Ready for the next stretch.

It’s been a big week, and it’s hard to process as we try to figure out what our next week looks like.

First, we left Port Townsend, enjoyed a bouncy first night shift, and made Sekiu by 5 am. We enjoyed pancakes and a slow morning at anchor while we waited for the tide to rise. Apparently their fuel dock is shallow. Tide rose, we got terrible instructions from their marina and motored in confused. We tied off to a random dock, shuffled jerry cans to top off our tanks, and got back underway.

We rigged up fishing gear, and motored out the straights. We landed a beautiful 22 inch Coho Salmon! We felt like that was a good omen for our first stretch of the Coho Hoho Rally.

Leaving the straits we encountered the largest waves I’ve ever seen on Scooter. Probably 8+ foot swell with a few more feet of wind waves on top. The waves are called square waves when the waves leaving the sound are about perpinducular to the waves running along the coast. She behaved admirably. We saw a whale. Taylor saw it breach and splash so that was special, plus it was about 2 minutes before she barfed from seasickness.

The wind turned in our favor the following morning and we put up sails. Finally, after years of prep, we were sailing on the open ocean. Aside from seasickness, the next 24 hours were without incident.

We kept sailing, being sick, reading, having fun, and not sleeping very well. However, it was everything we had hoped for.

Evening of the third day out, the winds built to 25 knots, and Scooter flew south. We were screaming along at 10 knots. Nelson and I listened to podcasts calmly while we drove down each 10-foot swell. I got jealous of the autopilot having all the fun surfing our 14,000 lb boat so I disengaged the autopilot.

That’s where the fun went from type 1 to type 2.

At 10:30 pm our steering cable broke. We lost control of Scooter and began to spin in 30 mph gusts and 12-foot swell. Fortunately, this happened last summer in the sound so we were somewhat prepared.

We were able to have the emergency tiller (trusty rusty, the 18 inch steel pipe) engaged on the rudder, and Taylor pulled down the sail. She fought like hell, didn’t have feet touching the deck of the boat at times, and hauled the sail down in a minute or two.

At the time we were 50 miles off the coast, northwest of Newport. Our tiller sits about 8 inches off the deck of the cockpit so the most efficient location to steer from is laying on the floor of the cockpit. We took turns laying on the cockpit all night. Every 12 seconds a wave hit and knocked us off course. We also coudln’t really see the map from the floor, so we’d get a course dialed in, gage our direction using the stars and the moon, then go back to our ‘celestial navigation’.

At some point we hailed on the VHF radio that we were limited steering and vessels in the area should use caution. The Coast guard responded and asked for more info, and got our phone number, and offered to monitor our situation.

After a 10 hour slog, (probably the hardest 10 hours of my life) dawn arrived and we were approaching Newport. We reached out to the coast guard asking for bar crossing advice, and they suggested they had a lifeboat in the area and could tow us into Newport. We said ok, as long as it was free. Their definition of a “lifeboat” is loose. It was a 40-foot twin-engine aluminum boat, designed to be rolled and self righted in the worst ocean conditions.

We’re pretty sure they used us as a training exercise. There were mostly rookies on board, a few repeated orderers, confusion, and lots of overkill. They had a second lifeboat come block traffic around the jetty as they pulled us in.

They also apparently had to tow us in at 12-14 knots. much faster than Scooter is designed to go, and I was convinced everything on the old girl would be torn off. She held thankfully.

Once in the harbor, they delivered us to a slip at the marina, inspected our boat for safety requirements, and were impressed at our preparedness. The captain called us ‘the most prudent sailors she’s seen’. That was a hell of a compliment to our recently blemished pride.

Then the formalities were dropped and they let us tour their boat in exchange for letting them hold Eunice.

Next, we began the long process of putting our house back together. In the 10 hours of fighting back to land, we had been pounded by waves on our beam. Everything inside was on the floor or out of place. The evening’s stir fry was sprayed on the interior, the TV screen had slammed into a wall and exploded everywhere. It was like everything we owned was tossed into a saltwater washing machine and dumped into the boat. The only clear spot on the boat was a 3-foot section of the couch where we slept for 30-minute shifts with our foulies/harnesses/life jackets still on.

Things to fix as always, but we’re happy to be in a safe harbor.