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Sunset last night

Starter Motor Problems

If you’re not likely to get excited by Starter motors or Rust, you can skip this post altogether as it’s really dull

A couple of times in the last week the starter motor failed to start the engine. The Starter motor whirred away very fast, but wasn’t connecting to the engine, so the engine couldn’t start.

The bible on such matters, Nigel Calder’s maintenance book suggested tapping it with a hammer, I had already tried this without any luck, but he wisely suggested to do it while the starter was turning. This worked on two occasions, but today it had no effect.

Being anchored in a very quiet deserted calm bay, with no phone signal, no harbours within 20 miles we were basically stuffed, the only option being to put out a pan pan on the VHF and hope one of the passing boats 15 miles away in the Johnstone Strait would hear. I could just make out the weather forecast on the VHF and they were predicting a gale for later in the day so I had hoped to be at our next port before then.

So it was that I started the task of extracting the starter motor from the engine. Mr Calder had explained the principle of the spiral grove that the cog runs along so that centrifugal force causes it to engage, and that I probably just needed to clean that up and all would be ok.

I took a photo of the wiring, so I could put it all back together, removed the connections, and unbolted the three bolts holding it in. Of course it wouldn’t come out, I tapped it with the hammer, tried to rotate it, but all to no avail. Back to Mr Calders book, and sure enough he says if it won’t come out, give it a ‘smart tap with a hammer to free it’. Obviously I must have been doing ‘dumb taps’. So I returned with the hammer and gave it the smartest tap I could muster and sure enough it moved a little and I could easily yank it out. At this point I could see a trail of dried saltwater/rust all the way from the salt water cooling pump down to area around the starter. I had not been able to see this from other angles, but assumed it was related to the small leak I had spotted on the front of the pump the other day. Minor, but I planned to fix this when I do the engine service next week.

Next my favourite part, stripping it down. I love taking mechanical things apart, but usually this is only when they are disposable, as I can rarely put them back together properly. This time I was careful to mark what went where and to take pictures where there might be doubt / memory loss later.

Looking at the motor it was clear what the book said about rust being the problem. The engaging mechanism, I think this might be called the Bendix, was quite rusty, as was the whole area that sat under the engines big cog (Flywheel?). Mr Calder explains that sea water in the bilge under the engine can splash up and the flywheel can squirt it all around and in particular into the starter motor. More on this later.

I was able to take it all apart quite easily, clean it up, and with a combination of WD40, oil then grease, have the cogs that had initially seemed almost seized, to be whizzing around now with no problem.

It only took 3 attempts to reassemble, just because bolts can all look the same doesn’t actually mean they are!

I was feeling quite confident the job was done, next I had to fit the starter back into the engine, lots of jiggling and it eventually was back bolted to the engine, now the big problem was what to do with the wires. Looking at the photo didn’t help, it didn’t cover the area I needed. There where two studs coming out of the back of the starter that didn’t seem to have wires connected to them, yet I had removed the nuts off them so they must have connections, oh dear. Lots of staring at them, reading manuals and checking in the bible didn’t enlighten me, so I connected the wires I was sure about, i.e. the big red ones that go to the solenoid, and tried the starter.

Voila, the engine spun into life, I shut it down, and then I realised there was a sound of trickling water, as if the tap had been left on, Kathy could hear it as well from the other end of the cabin. Looking into the engine, water was trickling from under the water pump and down the side of the engine. So now I knew the cause of the starter motor rust problem, and felt happier, but what was wrong with the pump?

The Water Pump.
This guy pumps sea water around the heat exchanger which cools the fresh water pumped around the engine, and he was leaking a lot.

I decided to leave it until we reached another port where I could get to help if needed, I figured it had been leaking for a few days, the engine was staying cool, so we could continue.
Once we arrived in Alert Bay, with wifi and shops/ferry to a big town, I had a go at repairing the pump. As always there’s always one fastener that won’t budge, and it was a big bolt that had previously had its head rounded off. It took me an hour to get this out, then I found I didn’t have a spare so had to fabricate one from some studding.

The pump cleaned up ok, but it took a while to find the correct pump in the workshop manual as there are two different types used depending on age.Further inspection revealed that I didn’t have any spares, even though I couldn’t see any wear on the rubber o-ring that was in there, and the diagram didn’t show any other seals. I filled the chamber with water and nothing dripped out. I wondered if perhaps the pipes feeding/taking water to the pump were leaking at the join and the water being squirted to the back of the pump. Unlikely, but it was my only hope for a quick repair.
Before refitting the pump I tried to clear up the areas the salty sea had been spraying. Cleaning the hose that feeds water into the transmission oil cooler saw water squirting out, closer inspection revealed a hole in the cooler, caused I expect by the leak above.

For now I have put some tape over the hole, I’m going to have to replace the cooler at some point soon.
Once it was cleaned and re-assembled I started her up. Usually it takes a while to prime, but this time the water was flowing rapidly out to the exhaust, however it was still running out of the back of the pump as well.

I’m going to have to take the next trip to Sointula, our final destination this year, carefully. When I return in April next year I shall bring a new pump and cooler.
I may need to start thinking about a new engine, but that’s a pricey game I don’t want just yet.

Alert Bay is a fascinating place with a great First Nation Cultural centre, More on that in another post. The town is old and the harbours have some very interesting boats, and a lot of very sad neglected ones too.

Paul Collister

After our trip to Princess Louisa Inlet we returned to Egmont, this time to the public wharf where I messed up the mooring, I had assumed that as the tide was flooding I would be pushed away from the boat we were rafting to, so got really close, as it turned out the tide was running the other way, so my bow was pushed onto the boats quarter, and my stern was soon pushed onto the boat behind him. How embarrassing, I thought I was getting better at this. However the tide wasn’t strong and we pushed off, the fenders prevented any damage, but as always some part of my boat wanted to leave me for the other boat, and in this case it was the barbeque that was trying to merge with some steelwork on the other boat. A good push and we were all sorted. The reason the current was the opposite to what I expected was due to it reversing direction near the shore, I should have considered this especially given the name of the marina next door ‘BackEddy Marina’.
The other thing I have learnt here is that often the top of the water, sometimes a foot or more deep can be freshwater that doesnt mix with the saltwater below, and this can cause confusion in currents. Logs can also float on the saltwater and be a foot or more under the surface, but this boat has such a large and deep underwater surface, that it really can grip the currents there that you often don’t see on the surface.

We decided to spend an extra day and visit the Sechelt/Skookumchuck rapids, which were going to be running at 14 knots, if I couldn’t motor through one, at least I could watch it.
It was a great one hour walk through a forest to get there.

The rapids were impressive, and a few fast motor boats were racing back and forth through them, I guess it can get boring around here.

From Egmont we headed northwest to Lund, the only place with a decent grocery store and fuel supply before we headed into Desolation sound.

Like most places we visited, being in the shoulder season it was quiet and we had a whole pontoon to ourselves. For some reason I don’t understand, there was a Scottish Ceilidh planned for that night in the pub, you can see the musicians with their bagpipes below. We opted for a lovely restaurant the other side of the cove and sadly missed the bagpipes 😉

We stayed an extra night here as well as it was so peaceful and relaxing, but soon enough we were on our way to Prideaux Haven in the area known as Desolation Sound. This is considered to be one of the most beautiful areas in the whole of the inside passage, certainly it looked lovely, but I think we had already been spoiled by princess Louisa inlet. 

We anchored in a deserted spot at the end of the bay, whith a couple of yachts off in the distance.

The next day we headed over to Pendrell Sound, this is supposed to be one of the warmest waters around. Partly as it isn’t flooded by the pacific waters every day, also as it’s a dead end, but has a shore, the water heats up more. I needed warm water as I planned to dive on the boat and clean the prop and bow thruster, the prop is not working 100% and the bow thruster hardly works at all. I did dive, and I don’t know who said the waters were warm, presumably an eskimo, as it was freezing. I couldn’t find my wetsuit which didn’t help. The prop didn’t look too bad, but was too deep for me to work on in the cold, so I focussed on cleaning the bow thruster prop with a bent teaspoon which allowed me to get around the back of the prop blades where all the growth was. That worked out well and I have a lot more thrust from it now.
The hotter and very clear water is great for oysters and besides the oyster farms lining the coast here, there were zillions of shells covering the shoreline rocks.

I was worried about slicing the dinghy on them when we went ashore, but it wasn’t a problem 

We dinghied around the head of the inlet amazed at how deep and clear the water was. The cliffs are very fiord like and go down to the water quite steeply and continue down just as steep.

The next day we headed off to Teakerne Arm, Captain Vancouver spent two weeks anchored here recuperating from the horrendous time he was having in Desolation Sound, he gave it that name more because of his mental state at the time, we thought it was a fantastic place, but it was sunny for us, he was there in storms, and couldn’t find anywhere to anchor, eventually getting into Teakerne Arm. My main reason for for visiting this Arm was simply because if he spent so long here, it can’t have been that bad. As it turned out it was a great spot with wonderful waterfalls at the head.Anchoring was fun, three boat lengths from the shore it is 60m deep, two boat lengths off it’s 20m. so we dropped the hook in 30m and reversed until the anchor gripped the side of the near vertical wall below us. We ran a stern tie ashore, tightened up on the chain and the anchor seemed happy. 

We had towed the dinghy for the first time since Malaysia, and headed off to explore a trail that leads to a large lake up above  that feeds the waterfalls, it was a good climb and at the top of the waterfalls we spotted this winch, used, I presume, for pulling logs from the lake over the top of the waterfall and down to below to be rafted up in log booms.

In a small cove beside the waterfall we spotted a house that seemed to be in trouble.The following morning we pushed on to Blind Channel, this was slightly challenging as we had to pass through three sets of rapids, Yaculta, Gillard & Dent, each about 2 miles apart. We were going against a flood tide, so to make the first rapid at slack water meant we would be 30 minutes late for the last rapid. So we aimed to get to the first on the end of the ebb, and race through arriving at the middle rapids just before slack and the final and most dangerous rapids at Dent at slack water. I spent an hour working out tides and passage planning, we ended up having to leave at 07:30 and we arrived just 15 minutes early at 11:38, we dawdled for 10 minutes then went for it. Everything went well right up until the last set of rapids, Dent, featuring the scarily named ‘Devils Hole whirlpool’, which the pilot says “Those who have looked into the Devils hole won’t ever want to revisit it”. Just as we approached I saw a tug emerging but couldn’t yet see its tow. The tugs rarely are pointing, or even travelling in the same direction as their tow, and require a very wide berth. I had to steer to starboard a lot to miss him and that put our course directly over ‘Devils Hole’, looking through the binoculars I couldn’t see any holes in the water so we pushed on, I was soon able to scoot around the back of the tow and hugged the coast, just missing the hole, which just looked like flat water to me. Yet again, my timing worked out well, except for the fact we had another 2 hours of sailing to go, and when I looked on the chart 2 hours later, I saw Greene Point rapids coming up in a few minutes. I hadn’t even realised they were there. Kathy took the helm, slowed us down, while I scanned the pilot books and found out they can be quite dangerous on spring tides, and we were bang on the highest tides and arriving at maximum flood, the worst time. I couldn’t quite understand what all the fuss was about as we approached and decided we should give it a whirl anyway, we turned into the turbulent waters and headed for the resort we could see in the distance. Everything worked out well, besides one bit of a shove and a splash of waves on the boat we were through. It was only later that I worked out the chart was wrong and the rapids were over to our starboard side as we turned to port, missing the worst of it.

Arriving at Blind Channel was easy enough, despite a strong current from the rapids running through the pontoons, the manager here helped us with our lines and we were soon tied up and basking in the lovely hot sunshine. The resort is family run and you can see they have put a lot of love and effort into making it a gorgeous relaxing place. The restaurant was shut as we are well and truly off season now. One other yacht was stranded here waiting for a water pump to be shipped, but besides them we had the place to ourselves.

A walk along the beach revealed this old winch, again used for logging. A trip through the forest led to a 600 year old cedar tree. I sent a postcard to an old friend from here, and the very next day the postman turned up in their plane to collect the mail and deliver new mail. We really are in the middle of nowhere here, It’s a big island, but has no electric, water or telephone. Electricity comes from a generator and a water powered turbine that makes use of the strong currents here. Water from a brook. Amazingly the internet is very good, but I think that is via satellite. I had wondered how you tie up a plane to a dock?It seems a round turn and one half hitch is all that’s needed!

We saw a few creatures on the way here and around the marina. I dropped them into a little video below.

Tomorrow we head of towards Siontula, taking in a few more towns and anchorages on the way.

Paul Collister

Fishermen’s Terminal was always going to be our first place to visit in Seattle. Locations mean so much more after you’ve read about them and had your interest ignited. We’d both read Jonathan Raban’s book about travelling to Juneau, Alaska along The Inside Passage, when his journey had begun at Fishermen’s Terminal in the late 1990s. We set off early on Tuesday morning August 21st on our bikes. Seattle is great for cyclists; it has designated cycle paths and there were only a few hills on the route to Elliott Bay. We called in to Elliott Bay Marina on the way, to book a berth there for two weeks. It’s another huge one with a great view of the Seattle skyline. We stopped for lunch in the restaurant there, trying not to grimace too much at the cost for a bowl of clam chowder, a portion of chips and a coke and glass of wine (we didn’t eat there again).

 

Fishermen’s Terminal looked like a great place to stay. Paul had enquired about a berth there but there was a huge demand this year and they were totally booked up; preference is naturally given to commercial vessels. We had a look at the memorial and read the information boards about its history. The bronze and stone memorial commemorates over 500 people who lost their lives while fishing in Alaska. Flowers and hand-written tributes are sadly constantly in place relating to most recent losses.

The port is home to the huge boats that have featured in documentaries such as ‘Deadliest Catch’. Jonathan Raban was here in the month of April and he watched boats being fitted out for their spring migration. He described the hive of activity involved in the work, with generations of families taking part and concludes that the place felt older than the city itself. I could understand that and also what he meant about the past being ‘alive and usable’, when looking at the old and well-used vessels around me; all their modern navigational aids were hidden from view below. Wooden tables and chairs outside the main building were in use by people eating food from the kiosks and drinks from the bar, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. Nearby were a couple of seafood restaurants and a shop selling organic produce and artisan gifts – all predictably expensive.

Cycling on, we arrived at the outskirts of Seattle, getting ever closer to the Space Needle. It was a hot afternoon and the hills were steep in the city centre. I was flagging badly on one extremely steep one as we pushed the bikes up so Paul did the gentlemanly thing and pushed both of them to the top. The Museum of Pop Culture is right next to the Space Needle (which, after looking up at it and then checking the admission fee of over £70 for the two of us, we unanimously decided to omit from our itinerary).

The museum, however, was a definite on my list of places to visit. Knowing it would be too late to enter and do it justice, we went in to have a quick look around. There was plenty of information about what was on, including a recently opened exhibition celebrating 80 years of Marvel comics and one on the music and gigs of Pearl Jam. These, and a lot more were all available to see for the princely sum of £22. The museum promptly went on Paul’s list of things he could do without seeing ;-). I resolved to return another day on my own. We had a drink in the venue’s café before cycling along the waterfront to find a store called Fred Meyer, one of the US’s ‘everything under one roof’ shops. It was here that Paul began to feel the pain of the infection that he described in an earlier blog post. It had been a long day of cycling around and we put it down to that at the time, little realising it was the beginning of another visit to a hospital in a foreign country. Pics from our cycle ride round Seattle below.

Despite the pain and discomfort, Paul felt up to moving on the next day. We left Shilshole Marina late in the morning for the hour’s journey to Elliott Bay. It was hazy when we left with what we thought was fog but later discovered to be smoke from all the fires on Vancouver Island.  Entering our new marina, I was thrilled to spot several seals basking on the rocks at the bottom of the breakwater (hard to spot in the pics but they are there).

Once settled in the berth, Paul gave in to the need to rest and as time went on, it became clear that moving around for any length of time was painful and uncomfortable for him. We decided to wait until after the weekend and seek advice if he was no better. In the meantime, I made any necessary trips to the marina office or the shops.

I liked Elliott Bay. The Seattle skyline was a delight to see at night when it was clear enough, and it was very peaceful there. Walking the pontoons I often saw seals popping their heads up, and several large pink and purple starfish could be seen in the clear water, clinging to the metal under the pontoons. On Saturday, Paul felt up to a trip to Pike Place Market on Seattle’s waterfront. An Uber taxi dropped us there and we had a slow amble around as Paul was finding walking painful by then. Pike Place Market was established in 1907 when citizens, outraged by the middlemen hiking up prices for fresh produce, demanded a solution, which came in the form of a public market. Over the years, it’s grown into a vibrant place with lots of homes above the storefronts – the majority of whom are low-income elderly people or people living with disability. As well as the usual market stall there are speciality shops, artists and craftspeople, buskers and an abundance of cafes and restaurants. It was predictably busy on a summer Saturday, especially as visiting cruise ships had disgorged passengers into downtown Seattle, and although the historic buildings and winding alleys were attractive and intriguing, we didn’t want to risk Paul feeling worse by walking too much.

We sought out a coffee bar to check whether Seattle’s reputation as a coffee capital is justified. The first ever Starbucks, which opened in 1971 is located at Pike Place but I’ve never been a fan of the chain so we found an independent one in a side street and shared pumpkin cake to go with it (both very nice).

From there it was a short walk to the city public library, a huge, shimmering glass and steel building which has 11 levels. It was a very impressive library and I was pleased to see it was well attended on all the floors. Level ten was a viewing floor with great views across the city, and was also the reading room where we spent a pleasant half hour reading books about Seattle’s music and history and looking at old photos of the city.

A short cycle ride was necessary the next day to buy a part for the electricity shore power connection, having been told off for not having the correct fitting earlier in the day. That short ride confirmed that Paul was getting no better and first thing on Monday morning we set off to seek medical advice. The hospital experience was very fast and efficient and it was such a relief when the experts diagnosed and prescribed treatment, as opposed to our guess work and online research. The cost of the medicine nearly gave me health problems of my own when the chemist told me the amount! The pills, along with days of rest would at least ensure his recovery, albeit not a quick (or cheap) one.

I took myself off to the centre of the city a couple of days later for the promised visit to the Museum of Pop Culture. As well as the Marvel and Science fiction exhibitions, there was one entitled ‘Scared to Death: The Thrill of Horror Film’. I sat and watched clips of the 100 scariest films in a setting with blood on the floor and ‘bodies’ hanging in a serial killer’s lair. Among the exhibits, I was particularly thrilled to see what is claimed to be the actual axe Jack Nicholson used in one of my favourite films, ‘The Shining’. I browsed the grunge music section to my heart’s content and looked at the clothes, instruments and memorabilia of Seattle’s Jimi Hendrix, then finished off with an entertaining look at the ‘Fantasy: Worlds of Myth and Magic’ room. Some pics of the visit below.

It wasn’t until a week later that Paul felt up to venturing into Seattle. We had a list of places we wanted to see and the first of these was The Klondike Gold Rush Historical Park. It was located in the historic district of the city; picturesque Pioneer Square which, as location of the heart of the gold rush era had some fantastic old buildings. The museum tells the story of the late 1890s stampede to find gold in the Yukon and after watching a short film outlining the timeline of the period we both enjoyed a slow walk through the exhibits, reading and listening to fascinating first-hand accounts about the event and looking at old photographs. All for free, too!

The Elliott Bay Book Company was next. It was our intention to walk there, but the map I’d used turned out to be completely out of scale and was way too far to walk to. We were in Chinatown by the time this was discovered but didn’t have time to linger long there. We did stop for a while to watch a guy playing an instrument similar to a violin while a couple had fun playing pavement chess.

An Uber taxi took us to the book store. He dropped us right by the Jimi Hendrix statue, which ticked off another attraction on the list.

Elliott Book Company’s claim to be ‘a must for bibliophiles’ was spot on. A huge store, on two levels with an obligatory coffee shop, it sold a mix of new titles along with a sizable section of ‘reduced in price’ stock. I had a long browse while Paul sat in the café. Next door I’d spotted a likely bar/restaurant for a late lunch and we walked through its door just after three. The hours between 3 and 5 was ‘Happy Hour’, the guy who greeted us explained. Unfortunately this didn’t translate to any discounts or two for one, as other establishments offer during these hours, it meant that they only served some of what was on the full menu so that they could concentrate on getting ready for dinner service. As he went on to explain the permutations in further detail I couldn’t help thinking they had overcomplicated things: I had to keep asking for clarification until he produced a little slip of paper listing what was on offer. A somewhat dubious interpretation of Happy Hour in my opinion. Still, the bowl of chips and glass of wine for me and meatball sandwich and coke for Paul were welcome refreshments.

We strolled through a small city centre park after that, en route to get the Seattle Center Monorail. This mode of transport provides a fast route between downtown and central locations, and along with several other Seattle landmarks, was built for the 1962 World’s Fair.

The Space Needle, where we got off was another one and we sat on the grass for a while watching it whisk people up to its top observation deck and down again at stomach-lurching speed. This was Labor Day weekend, the equivalent of Britain’s May Day Bank holiday weekend, and alongside the park a festival called Bumbershoot was taking place. This is a three day event when performers from all over the world converge for concerts, theatre productions, independent film screenings and literary events. Apparently it’s permitted to smoke pot in there and we watched a queue of people having their bags searched, presumably for weapons or drugs that weren’t cannabis, before entering the gates to join in the fun.  I mention weapons because signs on the doors of quite a few premises bear the words ‘no firearms or weapons permitted inside’ – words that are somehow simultaneously worrying and reassuring.

With Paul now well on the road to recovery we decided to brave another bike ride on Labor Day Sunday. Paul had found a park that he said didn’t look too far away or too strenuous. At least it wasn’t far away! It’s a shame that the steep hills hadn’t shown show up on the map, however. It had started off well; a cool breeze, long empty roads, interesting upmarket neighbourhoods with pretty and unique houses to look at as we cycled effortlessly along. Further on, we had to ascend in order to reach Discovery Park. It had got hotter by then and the hills were much too steep to cycle up. We ended up pushing them for most of the way – I thought the hills would never stop coming (I think I may even have whined about that a little bit ;-)).  The park was well worth the effort, though. It was fascinating. I knew little about it until afterwards but we came upon such beautiful, big, empty cream-coloured houses as we rode through. They looked like the sort of houses used for American movies, particularly in supernatural ones, such as The Amityville Horror. The pictures show what I mean. There were several of them but none seemed to be occupied. I would have dearly loved to look inside. Signs indicated they were military-owned but it wasn’t until I looked online that I found out they were part of the US Army’s Fort Lawton base. Apparently some of the territory had been sold to the city but part of the park is still used for training and officers’ accommodation. I spent an inordinate amount of time just staring at those enigmatic houses in the late afternoon light.

We took a slight detour on the way back, to visit Fishermen’s Terminal for refreshments at the pub there. I love sitting on the high stools in American bars where they place a coaster in front of you on the counter with a flourish before you’ve even ordered a drink. To our left were three guys who had clearly been there for quite some time. When we took our seats, one of them moved his belongings from the one next to us and we had a polite and humorous interaction about it being ok to sit there. At least, I hope it was polite and humorous because I couldn’t make out what he was saying to me due to the background noise and the less than sober words he spoke – but he chuckled a lot so I took that as a positive sign. Paul tried the pub’s clam chowder and we shared some fries with ranch and barbecue sauce (a new one to us, and very tasty). As we ate, the conversation between two of the three guys next to us gradually changed from a tone of amiable chat to one of goading confrontation.  I could hear it building up beside me, with phrases like ‘I’m just stating my opinion – didn’t intend to cause offence’, and ‘we’re having a discussion, it shouldn’t need to turn into an argument’. Thankfully the third guy, who I guessed was the captain of the fishing boat they had come from managed to calm the situation before it turned into a classic bar room brawl.

No doubt there was plenty more of Seattle that we would have loved to see if we’d had more time and, more crucially, money but we felt we had seen the parts we wanted to and had definitely soaked up the vibrant atmosphere of the city. The car we had booked for the next couple of days would allow us to explore locations further afield.

 

 

Tuesday the 11th of September saw us leave Port Townsend for Canada. We crossed the Straits of Juan de Fuca and headed into the safety of the San Juan Islands. These are a group of islands close to the Canadian border, they belong to America, but could have easily have been Canadian if the circumstances had been slightly different. I believe the USA thought of them as a very strategic place to control the waters around the straits and the routes north towards Alaska.
We anchored in Parks Bay, a lovely secluded spot and very secure from wind and waves, however there is nowhere to go ashore, as in so many places around here, the land bordering the water has been bought up and built on. I think there may be a right to access below the high water mark, but that would just allow you to walk up to the “PRIVATE- GO AWAY” signs you see along the way. To be fair, both Canada and the USA have an amazing amount of very well kept public marine parks in this area.

From Parks bay we left the San Juan islands and motored over to the Canadian coast on Vancouver Island to the town of Sidney. Here we could clear into the country. We had checked on the restrictions again for what food is allowed in and what is restricted, potatoes being the main problem. Kathy always travels with a few handy spuds, so these had to be consumed. We ate a lot of potatoes that morning. Kathy was also a little over on the wine quota so she put a good effort into that issue the previous night. As it turned out, we arrived, called customs on the dock phone and was asked a few questions and then told we were cleared in and to enjoy our stay. No visits, no searches, Job done. (Just realised I’m repeating a bit of the last post)

I loved this boat, looked like it had sailed through a time vortex into this century from some distant past.

They like to keep their boats out of the rain here in SidneyAfter two days in Sidney, a town with a lot of book shops, we had to leave as the marina was booked up for a regata, we had gone there to have a break and enjoy Kathy’s birthday, we had hoped to find a good Indian restaurant, but the only one there had closed down. So we had to move along the coast to Van Isle marina which was also quite a posh affair, but a few miles out of the main town. It did have a lot of marinas and boat repair yards, I wandered around and found two chandleries, one with a load of Sikaflex (Marine Sealant) at a silly low price, I had to buy two tubes, even though I don’t think I can use them before their ‘use by date’

That night we celebrated Kathy’s birthday in the plush restaurant overlooking the marina.

The next morning we left early and headed out to Pirates cove marine park which I had hoped to be a bit deserted as it’s a very small area and quite shallow. when we arrived it was chocca, we motored around pondering what to do, passing between the anchored boats so close that we had a few conversations with those sitting enjoying the peaceful surroundings from their cockpits. Eventually I decided we should try out the new rope I had bought specifically for this scenario where we need a stern tie. This setup can be achieved in several ways, but we decided to drop our anchor, get it to set, then reverse over to the shore and tie the boats stern to a metal chain and ring thoughtfully provided by the park. Some people do it the other way around, but I can see problem with ropes getting tangled up that way. The big problem was getting the anchor to set, there was so little room to manoeuvre, and a boat lay just in front of us and another already stern tied on our side that we could only get about ten metres of chain out in 5 metres of water with about 2 metres for us to reverse and test the anchors set. We did this but I was not convinced how well we had set. Thankfully our neighbour jumped in his dinghy and motored over and took our line ashore, passed it through the ring and returned it to us, saving me the bother of lowering our dinghy. here you can see how close to the shore we got, at low water the next morning we were about ten foot from the shore, with about 40ft in front to the anchor, yet we held, even with a good breeze in the night.

The main reason for going to Pirates cove was that it was just an hour from Dodd Narrows, as I mentioned before, a quite scary pass where the currents run fast and dangerous. we needed to pass through around 9am so this was a great spot to leave from. As it turned out, there was no drama, passing through at slack water makes life very easy.

From there we scooted north west to Boho Bay on Lasqueti Island. A beautiful picturesque spot. very calm and shallow so I was able to anchor in 5 metres of water between a rock face and a big rock with a fish farm thing just off to the side.

Early the next morning we were on the move again, Lasqueti is about half way across the Strait of Georgia and we needed to get right over to the North eastern side in order to visit Desolation sound and the other back channels that we had heard so much about. Around this time I asked Kathy to check out if there was anywhere she really wanted to see, or could find any ‘must see’ places on the net, she quickly came up with the idea to visit Prince Louisa Inlet, a small inlet of outstanding beauty with a giant waterfall at the head called Chatterbox Falls. Looking at the chart, this was an easy diversion from here, so we headed north and cut through the Agamemnon channel up to Jervis Inlet which lead to our inlet.
Going up  Agamemnon meant we had to pass under two sets of overhead high voltage power cables, the chart said 35 metres clearance, now I need 14 metres so there’s no problem, unless I’m getting confused and I need 35 and they were 14, and what about the height of the tide. I knew there was no issue, yet I still checked my numbers and then double checked, it was only the next day that I read you should leave at least 5 metres gap as the voltage can jump that far from the cables to your mast. The idea of the mast hitting 100,000 + volt cables doesn’t bear thinking about.  As we passed under the cables they just seemed to get lower and lower, I really don’t think I could ever do the intercoastal waterway up the eastern side of the USA as so many of the bridges there are just a little bigger than my mast and I think I would freak at each one. However we passed through and looking back felt a bit silly as for some reason now they seemed to be about a mile up in the sky. Around here we passed another sailing boat who was making about 1 knot under sail, there was next to no wind. I admired him for not rushing and burning fuel like us. He was sitting in his boat saying to himself “Sister Midnight, I know that name…??”

Turning to starboard at the top of Agamemnon we made to the government wharf at Egmont, thinking it would be the cheapest option. I took the time to check the pilot books about entering the bay and was shocked to find it right next to the Sechelt rapids or Skookumchuck Narrows, a very serious stretch of water as I will explain later. I checked my tables and saw that the current would be flowing at ten knots through the rapids and wondered how bad the current would be at the wharf. Sideways currents can be a pain when docking. We were passing a small marina / resort in Backeddy with fuel just before the wharf, so pulled over to fill up, while there they told me they were in the ‘shoulder season’ now and rates dropped, so we tied up there for the night and walked down to Egmont which had a shop, and the smallest post office in Canada. On a side note I have noticed a tendency for many countries to have multiple instances of the smallest whatever all over the country, I have visited the smallest house in England while in Cornwall and also in the lake district, I’m sure there are other contenders too. While we were at Egmont checking out the wharf we had intended to visit, we saw a yacht arriving, in fact the one we passed under the pylons. I watched to see how he would cope with the pontoons being full and nowhere to raft on the public visitor side. He wandered around a bit then rafted to a fishing boat in the private area. We went to the shop and waited for it to open to get some supplies. kathy sat outside on the bench which seems to be a bit on the ‘well made’ side.We headed down to the pontoons to see how it all worked when we met the sailor heading up to the shop, I stopped and asked him if he was the skipper on the yacht that just arrived, he said yes and we chatted, I told him we had passed him under the pylons and he told us he  was down from Sointula and I explained that we were heading up there. At this point he realised why he thought he knew Sister Midnight, he asked my full name, then introduced himself as Jim the guy I had been emailing with over the last few months as he was going to be looking after our boat while we returned to the UK. he had just sailed down here for a few days exploring. Quite a coincidence. We bumped into him later in the grocery store, but that was less of a coincidence as the grocery store was the only shop for 5 miles and there was nothing else to do 🙂

Walking around the dock we saw a lot of very sad neglected boats.

We walked back to Backeddy and had a lovely meal in the resort restaurant.

When we arrived it was lovely and sunny but in the morning the fog had descended and I worried if we would be ably to make the 35 miles up to Princess Louisa Inlet, but a local arrived in a small skiff and he told me the fog was only around the marina and was caused by the colder water you get around the rapids. We set off and sure enough the fog was very isolated around the marina, the pic below is looking  back to the marina from about a mile away.

We now headed north up Jervis Inlet, a long 35 mile fiord like passage that ends in a small bay. Captain Vancouver had traversed this route in the late 18th Century looking for the north west passage to the Atlantic. He was disappointed yet again, but he also missed the inlet to the Prince Louisa Inlet which as you can see below is not very wide. The entrance leads to the Malibu rapids, again not recommended at full flood. We arrived at slack water and passed through into an even more striking fiord like passage. 

 

Hard to believe this fills and empties through that little opening

At the head of this inlet is the famous chatterbox Falls, in June the sheer mountainside vertical walls all along the inlet are flowing with waterfalls We found space on a public dock maintained by the park authorities. I’m not used to having to moor next to planes but I just treated it like a boat and all went wellThe small float plane had just arrived with a bride and groom and photographer for some wedding shots in front of the waterfall, after those shots they pranced around on the pontoon for ages before shooting off in the plane. Watching the plane go round and round in circles to gain enough height to clear the mountains made me realise just how high these granite walls reached. The next day a big motor launch $4.5Million dollars worth, arrived and I helped the skipper by taking his stern lines, we chatted and he had seen my “Liverpool” reg on the hull and explained his guests on the boat were two ladies from the UK, so later we were surprised when two giggly northern women turned up, banging on our hull and insisting we join them for drinks on the mega yacht, one of them was from Preston, the other frm Nottingham. We had a nice time chatting with them and a few other guests on the boat,  a very luxurious affair, I noted the kitchen was way better than my own, and I’m talking about the one in my house!

Later that evening we all went over to the hut on the shore, set-up for people to have barbeques, the ship’s crew built a great bonfire, using lots of petrol on the wet wood they found.  Today we left Princess Louisa Inlet early to pass the rapids at slack water, this time at low tide, making the channel even narrower. On the way out we saw some new waterfalls that had been dry on the way in.

This time we went back to Egmont Public wharf, and tied up to the same fishing boat that Jim had tied up to when he was there. One reason he had gone there was to take the 5 km hike to the rapids from the wharf, he had timed it to see the rapids flowing at 12 knots, we are going to do the same tomorrow, but the rapids will be running at 14 knots and the wind will be up so it should be impressive. Many lives have been lost in these rapids, just a few years ago the local search and rescue volunteers, an organisation like the RNLI did some exercises in the rapids and lost two of their crew when the boat capsized and the two women were trapped underneath. More details are here .

Oh I nearly forgot, I celebrated my 60th birthday in the Inlet to the sound of chatterbox Falls, with some lovely presents from Kathy.

Paul Collister

 

I was sad to be leaving Seattle, I was getting used to the ‘in your face’ friendliness of the locals, or Seattelites as they are known, and had been bowled over by how helpful and friendly some of the people we met had genuinely been. It seemed like the whole of the sailing community there worked well together, with shops happily recommending competitor shops to me when they were out of stock. But having spent all my money on bits and bobs for the boat, it was time to move on. We had planned to get to the Wooden Boat Festival for Friday, but the mainsail repair delayed us so we would miss the first day.
Friday morning saw us heading north to Port Townsend, there was no wind, but we had good currents pushing us along and made good progress. The biggest drag was another submarine was heading out, the coastguard escort came and told me I had to clear the exclusion zone, and escorted me towards the beach, in almost the opposite direction to where we were heading, we were already a couple of miles from the subs CPA (Closest point of approach) but that wasn’t enough.  We took 8 hours to cover the 37 NM, arriving at 4pm, once we checked in we headed down to the festival as I read that bands were performing until late each night and we were pleased to find the gates open and free after 5pm, so we wandered around the stalls, mostly closing, bought some french fries and watched the bands performing on the music stage.  There were about six different stages setup for demonstrations and talks each day with maybe a hundred different talks all in all. Over the next two days I attended a talk on sharpening tools, this came from a guy who said he will sharpen his chisel maybe every ten minutes during a serious bit of boat building! I was thinking it was more of an annual thing. I also watched an impressive lady talk about varnishing tips, she had been varnishing for 31 years in Port Townsend, and really knew her stuff. I missed talks from Nigel Calder, a god in the boat maintenance world, and Brion Toss, a master rigger, both of these guys books have been on my bookshelf for many years. What was a bit worrying was that Brion was hobbling around in a plaster cast on his arm and leg, making me wonder if something had gone wrong while he was up a mast?

The festival consisted of scores of wooden boats, mostly quite old, demonstrations on the stages, a boat building competition, where 4 teams competed over the three days to build boats from scratch, launch and race them, live music, sea shanties, trips on the water on classic yachts/ tall ships and loads of other activities for kids. All in all it was a great festival, and I wished I had got there a day earlier and got to the festival earlier each day. In the harbour that held the festival there is an adjacent school of boatbuilding where demonstrations of woodworking were going on.

Some pictures from the festival are below.

“La Boheme is one in a series of William Atkin designed double-enders. This one is the Eric. Modeled after Norwegian rescue boats at the turn of the century, the Eric is said to be “the best boat for the worst weather”. La Boheme’s keel was laid in 1926. She was completed and launched in 1938 out of Victoria, BC and has plied the waters of the North West ever since. Constructed of Port Orford cedar on oak frames, La Boheme is stout, sea-kindly and extremely comfortable as cruiser.”

Boheme comes from the same Norwegian heritage as our own baba / tashiba boats, except those plank lines are for real.

 

One for Taffy.

 

 

Back at the boat we took advantage of a giant safeway store opposite the marina to stock up with everything we need for the next few weeks as we will be mostly at anchor on our way back to Malcolm Island.

It’s actually called the boat haven, but I think of it as boat heaven, it’s a decent walk from the haven to town and the other marina of Port Hudson where the festival is staged, but the Haven has everything a boat owner could desire, there are loads of workshops, I counted four travel lifts, a west Marine, a really good cheap hardware store that has a good range of stainless fittings. Shops, cafes, a fish stall and loads of classic and odd ball boats in every direction give the place a very nautical feel. It’s also has a huge area of hard standingBoats like this one above are scattered around the yard, this is an old classic cruise ship. One morning I looked up after hearing some swishing of the water next to us to see this yacht (below) passing by. A fairly common sight here. I think I will bring the boat back here next year to do any big jobs like the mast refurb I’m thinking of.

Kathy got herself into trouble again and I had to go downtown and bail her out. 

Actually it’s one of these cells under the old courtroom, now a museum, where Jack London spent the night once en-route to the Klondike.

Port Townsend was once, in the 1880s bigger than Seattle, and was scheduled for great things, but the panic/depression of 1893 put paid to that and the town went into decline. But not before several countries had built their imposing embassies here, and several very grand buildings were erected on the main roads.
Above one of these buildings we found an old cinema where we watched ‘Crazy Rich Asians’ The cinema was great, you could take a meal in, drink your wine from a glass glass and sit on a very comfortable sofa. The film was also fun as it was set in Singapore and Malaysia, so we recognised many of the locations.

Port Townsend is a lovely place, it seems when woodstock ended, a lot of people left for here to carry on the party, the general vibe is that of a laid back town, full of artists, lovely coffee bars, lots of art and craft shops, and of course this sits well with so many skilled boat workers, carpenters, steel workers etc. They even have a famous ‘forge’ here where you can get any rare kind of boat fitting cast. I could quite easily spend a year or two here.

Sadly we had to leave and start our trek north to Siontula, the days are getting shorter and colder, there’s less sunshine these last few days and I worry we will hit bad weather along the way. So I want to push on.

Today (Wed) we arrived in Sidney, Canada, a large town near Victoria on Vancouver Island. Check-in to Canada was as simple as saying hello , boat name, and no to ten questions, all on the phone, then we were in.

We are here until Saturday when we head over to Desolation Sound and explore the eastern side of the inside passage. We mostly stayed on the Vancouver Island side on the way down here. We will celebrate Kathy’s birthday here in Sidney, hopefully finding a nice restaurant, my birthday follows a few days later, but I’m more than happy with a cheese butty at anchor in desolation sound.

Paul Collister

 

A line from West Side Story, my favourite musical, and one that aptly describes my experience of the US so far. Well, maybe the high prices of things here are not quite so ok by me but it’s still thrilling to be here. My last visit had been way back in 1983, a trip to California that took in Los Angeles and San Francisco – places we’ll hopefully get round to seeing next year. This time we started off in Port of Friday Harbor, or ‘Friday Harbor’ as it’s popularly known. We arrived there on August 16th on a beautiful sunny afternoon after crossing the invisible border from Canada to America earlier that morning en route from Sidney Spit. The sunshine and warmth that greeted us on the approach were welcome after a chilly journey with gusts of cold wind up to 23 knots. Not so welcome was the amount of other yachts jostling for position in the bay. The position we were all after was a space to tie up on the customs dock. We also had to give low flying sea planes a wide berth before edging closer to the pontoon.

After Paul returned from showing our documents in the tiny office that you can see in the pic above, our clean, tidy and legal boat didn’t get so much as a cursory inspection, just a quick glance and a couple of questions relating to fresh produce. Paul began to explain that we weren’t sure if cheese was permitted and was interrupted with a ‘cheese is ok!’ declaration from the seemingly lone officer before she hurried on to deal with the next yacht.

Port Friday is a pretty town. We had a customary walk through its wide main streets after tying up in Port of Friday Harbor Marina (‘where Friday begins’). The shops were typical of those in most seaside places – gifts, souvenirs and artisan products displayed in creative emporiums along with plenty of ice cream parlours, bars and cafes. Spring Street was so neat and picturesque in fact that it reminded me of the manufactured high streets you find in theme parks such as Disneyland.

Naturally, the supermarket was of most interest to me, having used up all our fruit and veg to comply with entry regulations. It didn’t disappoint with its wide range of veggie products and unfamiliar but obviously popular food such as corn dogs, Twinkies, beef jerky and a staggering array of nut butters. Unfortunately it was just as, if not more, expensive as Canada had been. Some examples of basic products: a punnet of small tomatoes is £3.92; a loaf of bread is around £2.20-£4.50, a box of cereal is £4.00 and a bag of salad is around £3.50. Veggie and vegan products are even more expensive. I chose carefully. Pics below show examples of what are very high prices to me when compared with those in Asia and even in the UK, but as Paul says, the wages here are likely to be a lot higher. Luckily we have still got a lot of things we bought for the Pacific crossing which will help stretch the budget.

It was a very early start the following morning for our journey to Port Ludlow. The early morning air had us both donning our thermals with a welcome mug of hot coffee as we left Friday Harbor at 5 50 am. The sun had just risen over a mountain leaving the sky with a gorgeous pinky-orange hue and a grey seal popped its head out of the water just before we hit the open sea. I love mornings like that at sea. I saw my first ever submarine on the passage; a rather eerie, long grey-coloured tube just on the surface of the water, flanked on either side by military escorts. We assumed we were too close to it because a coastguard approached us on our port beam and warned us via a loudspeaker of its presence. We found out later that it’s normal practice for them to let all vessels in the vicinity know there’s a submarine nearby in that way.

Port Ludlow is the venue each year for a rendezvous for owners of yachts designed by Bob Perry. It’s a chance to meet and chat with skippers and crew of the same or similar boats. The leaflet pictured below outlines its aims in a more humorous manner 🙂 Paul got talking to people immediately after arriving.

Port Ludlow Marina has 300 berths and we spotted several Baba and Tashiba designs on the pontoons. There was a small shop and a covered communal area with tables and benches for event hire, which was where the live music would be on Saturday night. We joined our pontoon neighbours, Larry and his friend Monica and another couple at the outdoor seating area for a few drinks that evening until the chilly evening breeze forced us all back inside.

We went for a walk next morning along the main road to the tiny village about 30 minutes’ walk away. There was no obvious ‘sidewalk’, just a narrow lane adjoining the busy main road which was bordered on both sides by thick trees. It wasn’t the sort of walk you’d want to do in the dark. The village store was similar to petrol station convenience stores and predictably pricey. On the counter I noticed a collection box for donations to help pay the medical bills for cancer treatment of one the members of staff. It reminded me how tough it must be to receive such a diagnosis here when you can’t afford the health care.

On Saturday afternoon we joined everyone in the tented area to listen to talks from the guest speakers. I had a great time looking at and fussing the several friendly dogs in attendance. I’ve noticed that lots of US skippers have one or more dogs as part of their crew.

After the talks Paul had a chance to speak to Bob Perry and a few other guys he knew from his online Baba boat group and some of them came on board to have a look around and a chat. Later, we joined Larry and Monica on ‘Gone With the Wind’ (its fenders were labelled ‘Tara’), Larry’s beautifully fitted out Baba 35, for more drinks and chat.

All of this was very nice but I was looking forward to hearing some live music. Bob Perry is part of a six man band called ‘The Perry Rendezvous All Star Band’. Given their ages I knew the sort of music they would play was likely to be the kind I love and I wasn’t wrong. We’d all taken food contributions to the buffet, which was fabulous and plentiful, with drinks laid on for us to help ourselves. It was an extremely enjoyable evening – we didn’t dance, but we tapped our feet and sang along to some great rock, folk and country songs (or maybe that was just me – :-).

Quite a few boats had left by Sunday afternoon. We would be staying an extra day so went to have a look at the totem pole that had been erected in recognition of Native American art and culture overlooking the bay on Burner Point, and took a few pictures up there. A plaque informed us that the imposing 40-foot pole was created from a 720-year-old red cedar tree and the carved figures on it represent the history of Port Ludlow. Later that afternoon we had a visit from Karl, the solo sailor we’d met in Port Hardy. He told us about his trip along the west coast of Vancouver Island which sounded glorious, especially as he’d been lucky enough to see black bears on the way! I’m still hoping to see one before we return to the UK in October.

Our first stop in Seattle the following day was Shilshole Marina, a huge place near the Ballard district. The row of pontoons seemed to stretch for miles, and almost all of them were full.

After checking in we set off to check out Ballard. It was about a thirty minute walk from the marina but on the way we stopped at Ballard Locks, the passageway between Puget Sound and the docks in Lakes Washington and Union, which forms a barrier between fresh and salt water.  Close by is the place where the salmon can be observed on the fish ladder. We spent quite a lot of time in both these places, just watching the action. Locks have always fascinated me with their intricate machinery and construction. I did feel for the woman in charge of the lines on the boat we all stood watching from above as the lock staff issued commands to her and the captain. She must have been hoping nothing would go wrong being under such public scrutiny.

I found it a bit distressing watching the salmon attempt the seemingly impossible task of ascending the stone steps to return to the freshwater area where they had been born. The current was so strong and they had to extend so much effort to leap up onto the next rung, it looked certain they would be flushed back down by the current. We kept losing sight of the one we were watching and it made me breathless just looking at them so I left Paul to it while I looked out for seals in the bay.

Ballard has a distinct ‘new-age’ feel to it. It reminded me of places in Brighton and Hove in parts, with its lively bars and cafes and ethnic gift shops. It’s an old district, the waterfront established in the late 19th century by Scandinavian loggers and fishermen. Their heritage and culture is celebrated in a Nordic Museum which had closed by the time we walked past it at 4 30. Our main mission was to obtain a data plan for our phones, and once this was done we took a slow walk back, taking in a pub on the way – the first ‘pub’ I’d been in for a very long time and it happened to be happy hour so that was even better.

Our stay in Seattle would be a welcome break where we could be tourists for a couple of weeks and my plan was to research some of the attractions the city has to offer. I wondered if we would be brave enough (or more realistically, rich enough) to have a trip up the city’s iconic Space Needle. This is 605 feet high with a revolving glass floor on the top and a lift that shoots you up there in 43 seconds.  There is a lot to see and in the next few weeks we aimed to see as much as we could.

 

Having almost fully recovered from my infection, we have decided to head north to Port Townsend for the wooden boat festival; It’s a lot more than just wooden boats. From there we head north to Malcolm Island in Canada where we will stash the boat for the winter. We will be flying home on the 15th October.

We have made the most of seattle over the last few days, I hired a car so I could get around all the shops and other stores and we used it to get out of town too.

I’m quite warming to Seattle, it’s slightly whacky, and you see everything from the very poor to the very rich walking around in most areas. I would gladly stay put here for another 6 months if it wasn’t for the high cost of keeping a boat here, and the general cost of things. A decent loaf is usually $4-$5.

Halloween has started here, I did like the range of pumpkin on offer at safeway, Morrisons could learn a thing or two here. 

One of the highlights was finally finding a place to get my LPG Cooking gas cylinders re-certified and then filled. I took them to Amerigas down in Kent, 30 mins drive south of the centre. They sent me on to Pacific, anoth 15 mins south where I was told it would take two days for the engineer to test them. When I explained I was leaving in 2 days, early, the engineer came out to say he would test them there and then. Result, but one of the tanks failed the leak test inside the valve, totally safe but he replaced the valve and refilled both tanks. Brilliant, we now have 40lb of propane, that should provide all our cooking needs for over a year.

I also bought a new dual tank switch / regulator and new pigtails for the tanks, so once I fit them we will have a pretty safe setup. However with all the fitting and removing the old gas pipe off the cylinder, it became quite weak. During the evening 2 nights ago, the gas pipe burst releasing a stack of propane gas at very high pressure. Kathy and I jumped out of our skins as a huge roar came from the cockpit. I quickly managed to turn off the cylinder and made sure the gasses had all vented away. Later I tested it by lighting a match in the cockpit, I don’t like doing this as it’s not a fair test, in as much as you know the only outcome you could ever possibly see is the good one. Fortunately the boat design allows gas to escape in the locker and be sent safely on its way.

Today I collected the repaired mainsail from the sail loft. They did a pretty good job patching it up, you can see the latest fitting below. It takes me a couple of hours to get the mainsail on, the full length  battens, which are the 5 long bits of plastic rod, running horizontally across the sail are fitted in a fancy case held together by 4 nuts/bolts. I have adjusted the batten tensions in a hope to make the sail work better.

A few days ago we went to the big West Marine, and now we checked out Fisheries Supply, these are supposed to be less arty farty about stuff, they come from a commercial background rather than leisure. However I couldn’t really see much difference between the two, other than Fisheries is a bit cheaper. It was still like an Aladdin’s cave for me. I spent far too much there.

Later on I was to discover Seattle Marine and Fisheries Company, clevery shortened to Seamar. Now these are more like the real thing, I got the usual “Hi there, see anything I could help you with” type greeting, but did I suspect an underlying tone of “You look like a yachtie/Timewaster who wants to buy 3 1/2 foot of rope”, but that might just be my apprehension of walking into any type of professional setup I don’t belong in. Especially ocean hardened fishermen. It didn’t help that he knew nothing about the underlying construction of his three strand nylon, requests to know if it was three or four part, balanced rope just provoked a look of surprise.
Anyway, it looked the business and the price was 23c / foot, in West or Fisheries this was about $1/foot. So we went off to another warehouse, where they keep the rope, and I was going to get a half drum of 300ft, but suddenly came over all macho and decided to take the full 600ft (200m) drum. I was starting to feel like a real fisherman now. Hopefully I have enough anchor rode now for anywhere I want to stop in the world. Below you can see the anchor rode, a massive drum of polyprop and a smaller drum of 3/16th” wire for the new guard rails. I also bought tons of tins of chemicals, from paint stripper/acetone/thinners through to no-seize paste , locking glues, polyester resins/ varnishes, gloss and matt, engine oil/gearbox oil, cutting oil. I have two extra winch handle holders to make life easier in the cockpit and at the mast.

 

After all the shopping we needed a break so we drove out to Snoqualmie Falls. The fall is a lot bigger than it looks, and provides some power to Seattle from the underground turbines.

A little further along we wandered a country trail down to one of the river beds that feeds the falls.

A bit further on we went to the train museum. Kathy has the pictures of that. Just along from the museum we realised we were in Twin Peaks country land, so we drove out to the back road where David lynch turned up one day and planted the sign below. They took some pictures, pulled the sign and drove off. Much later the city of Snoqualmie put up a replica sign, but it has since been stolen.

So in an effort to immerse ourselves in seattle culture, we have been to , Walmart, Walgreave,Safeway,Target,Fred Meyer but not McDonalds or Starbucks. We have travelled the light railway, done the monorail and taken many uber rides.

The view from the west end of the marina looking west

And a little later the view looking east from our berth.

Paul Collister

Yesterday saw me back in hospital, It’s called ER here, A&E back home. But no sign of George Clooney or Hugh Laurie anywhere.

I’m often seeing stuff on Quora about the differences between US and UK Healthcare so I now had a chance to check it out myself. I might even be able to answer one of those Quora questions.

The problems started after a long bike ride a few days earlier, I thought I must have been sitting uncomfortably, as I had quite a pain later in my groin region. Perhaps that’s all the detail that I need to give, other than there was some considerable swelling.

The swelling continued and the pain increased over the weekend, so a search on google revealed many possible causes, most of them quite serious. Bruising didn’t seem likely.

So we headed on down to an urgent care place, these are like ER but for non life threatening issues, they are also supposed to be a lot cheaper than ER, so for just $125 they should be able to give me an opinion and maybe some treatment. Unfortunately, when I explained the problem they said they couldn’t do anything for me and I should head to ER immediately, which was a bit worrying.
They also said they wouldn’t charge me, which was nice.

So Kathy and I jumped into a cab and headed to ER in Ballard for a very efficient check in process, I do have medical insurance, but I had only just taken it out, and I selected a high excess. This was going to be an expensive day. The check-in process took about 5 minutes, in the UK it’s about the same. Next came triage, which in my opinion should be a fairly prompt process, in the UK this normally happens within an hour, here in Seattle it was right away.

I was taken to lovely examination room, where they took my vitals, hooked me up to some monitors then scheduled a specialist to visit. He came about 30 minutes later and ordered an ultrasound scan, In the UK we might well be in the 3 -6 hour period by now. They also took blood and urine samples.

The ultrasound revealed no serious issues, just inflammation, most probably caused by an infection. The actual diagnosis was Epididymitis, and the treatment was to be a course of antibiotics, rest and loads of painkillers.

After a few hours of being at ER I was discharged with a list of drugs I had to go and buy. However I was now feeling more ill than when we arrived, so a quick uber back to the boat and I went straight to sleep, while Kathy went off in search of the medication.

Buying medicine is a bit different here; in the UK any prescribed drugs will cost the same amount, so 10 antibiotic pills will cost about $10 total, here you have to shop around, we had a discount card from the insurers and their recommended retailers, of which safeway was the closest. Kathy popped out to get the medicine and came back, waiting for the right moment to tell me the pills cost $185!! A bit of googling showed safeway are the most expensive place around here. The pharmacy said the insurer won’t pay for antibiotics, or perhaps I need to make a claim. Still another lesson learned.

I won’t be surprised if the cost of the ER visit is in the region of $1000 (in 2013 the average ER visit in WA costed $1200), the bulk of which I will have to pay.

So to compare systems, well I can’t really on such a flimsy illness, but I’m  sure that the outcome of either an ER or A&E visit would have been the same for me, a course of antibiotics. A&E back home would have had me sitting for a few hours in a noisy room, possibly with crying babies, noisy toddlers and the odd drunk falling off his chair. whereas here I waited for 5 minutes in a very flash foyer / reception area, before being whisked off to a private room. Nurses and Doctors here seemed very professional and caring, just like back home, which is what you would expect. However they didn’t seem as rushed here, in fact that was the main difference I think, here they had plenty of room, and seemed quite laid back. All in all I think I prefer the UK setup, I think the wage deductions for National Insurance (Health care) are way lower than the cost of medical insurance, and even with insurance here, the deductibles and co-pay charges can soon add up. Still one visit and a few weeks in the country doesn’t really qualify me as an expert.

That was yesterday, and I’m already feeling better today, hopefully we can get out again soon. Nurse Kathy has been doing a wonderful job as I haven’t been able to move around much. We had plans to do loads of stuff here, and may stay a bit longer to make up for lost time. Seattle seems like a great place, and for the last few days the smoke has lifted and it’s been lovely and sunny. BTW I thought smoke was a technical term for a light fog, it was on the marine forecasts a lot, but it turns out to be actual smoke from fires. It seems like there are lots of large fires burning on Vancouver Island. One newspaper in Seattle last week reported air quality to be so bad it was equivalent to smoking 5 cigarettes a day. Looks like we were very lucky to have seen as much of the island as we did. In fact I hear most of the western coast is suffering from big forest fires.

Before I got ill I took a trip down to West Marine, which is a short walk from the marina, they have such a great range of marine products, so far it’s the best chandlery I have ever been in, aisle after aisle of everything you could ever need for the boat, in fact I bought quite a few things that weren’t on my ‘to buy’ list. I was enrolled into the West Marine discount club, and was told they will match any price I can get from anywhere else (except eBay), which seems like a good deal. I have also ordered tons of stuff online to be sent here and I’m just pondering if I should buy a load of sunbrella, a fabric used to make boat covers/canopies etc as it’s hard to get in Asia.
I need to visit Fisheries next, as that’s supposed to be a great chandlery and more down to earth than West Marine.

Elliott Bay Marina below with Downtown Seatlle in the distance

Paul Collister

I knew we were in for some lively company when Paul called down to ask if I was decent because we had company, and I heard a rich Canadian voice loudly respond ‘can’t I wait until she’s not!’ Two young guys stumbled on board, one of them literally, cursing when he caught his foot on the side deck shackle after taking his shoes off. Down the steps and into the cabin came Keith and Frank who had been on a Friday afternoon drinking session at the marina pub before returning to their respective boats near to ours in French Creek Harbour. Admiring Sister Midnight, they’d got talking to Paul about our journey and were interested to look inside the boat that had crossed the Pacific. They proved to be entertaining company, recommended some places to visit and told us about their boats. Keith had (we think he’d inherited it) a huge motor launch that he’d been trying to sell with little success. Frank (a fisherman, his boat stern to stern with ours) told us he’d been trying to persuade Keith to keep it. He’d told him of the fun they could have on it and how it was big enough to host some great parties. These guys loved to party from the stories we heard and would have no doubt loved it if we’d hosted one then and there but sadly we had places to go. After answering all their questions about the trip and asking a few of our own regarding the nearest shops, they sloped off, presumably to sleep away the rest of the afternoon.

We’d arrived in French Creek earlier that day after three days spent in Campbell River, a fair-sized city on the east coast of Vancouver Island. Paul had developed a heavy cold so we had extended our stay until he felt fit enough to carry on. We didn’t do a lot there, apart from a walk along the waterfront and pier on our first evening, and a visit to the museum the following afternoon. The museum had plenty of information about the region’s First Nation history, as well as some exhibits about fishing and logging in the area. I particularly loved the detailed replicas of a pioneer cabin and a 19th century hotel lobby that looked as though they were straight out of a Western film set. We also watched a fascinating film of the actual blast that destroyed Ripple Rock at Seymour Narrows in 1958 in order to make it safe for crafts to pass over. As we drew closer to America we needed to use up any fresh produce on board because it’s forbidden to take any in from Canada, so I found myself making vegetable soup for the freezer on one of the hottest afternoons we’d experienced since arriving in the country. It made shopping easy though: we just stocked up with drinks and bread, having enough of everything else to last us until America.

We’d spent the night before French Creek at anchor at Hornby Island. Known as The Hawaii of the North due to its golden sandy beaches (most of the beaches here have greyish-coloured shingle instead of sand) and warm waters, it was the busiest anchorage so far. Yachties flock there to go canoeing, kayaking and paddleboarding in the calm bay and at this time of year the beach was predictably crowded with families. Neither of us felt like going ashore. Paul had bought a fresh fish in Cambell River and inspired by the smells wafting over from beach barbecues and from neighbouring boats, he decided to use the barbecue in the cockpit. We need to cook more things on it – it smelled delicious and I don’t even like fish!

Hornby Island to French Creek was only a three hour trip and we arrived there just before 2pm.  It’s another fisherman’s wharf so we had to raft up to another boat which is a simple enough thing to do, except that a guy watching us from the opposite pontoon saw fit to point out that we were breaking the rules by being three abreast (the boat we had rafted to was rafted to one next to the pontoon). The man who had helped us in told him it wouldn’t matter that much, at which the other guy threw his hands in the air and declared it was none of his business, he was merely pointing out the rule displayed on the signs. He was so insistent that it was nothing to do with him that he effectively suggested it was personal. Anyway, after he’d motored off we did in fact move so that we were only two abreast and could finally take a look around. I’ve come to prefer staying at the working fishermen’s wharves or commercial marinas as opposed to public marinas for their friendly, informal atmosphere and the hive of activity that is usually going on in them. French Creek was no different, and at the recommendation of our friends earlier, I suggested we have a drink in the pub on site. It really didn’t have much to recommend it once we were inside. Televisions were playing various sporting events all around the bar and it was crowded, noisy and soulless. We took our drinks outside and didn’t stay for another. A much more sober and quieter Frank chatted with Paul from the stern of his boat that evening. I have a feeling he asked the same questions as those from the afternoon but at least he had a chance of remembering them this time.

From French Creek, we headed for Nanaimo on a very choppy sea with the rain pelting down and a decidedly cold wind. Poor Paul was up above the whole time. We had the sails up and the journey was extended because we had to tack a few times. It was a seven hour journey all in all and we pulled in to Nanaimo Yacht Club at 5pm, by which time the weather had improved considerably. The yacht club had been another suggestion from the French Creek guys and was much appreciated because it was cheaper and had good wifi. We walked along the prom in the evening and I saw buildings that although not quite skyscrapers, were the tallest I’d seen since Japan. The city of Nanaimo has one of the largest shorelines in Canada and is popularly known as The Harbour City with enough attractions for visitors to warrant a few days’ stay. We would only be spending one full day there so had to choose and slot in our activities beforehand. On the way back to the boat I spotted two second hand bookshops and resolved to check them out before the planned excursion across the water to Newcastle Island.

Browsing in the bookshops the next morning while Paul had a coffee in the café opposite, turned out to be a good move because by the time I emerged, the murky, overcast morning had developed into a clear, warm early afternoon; just right for a nature trail.

We caught the 2pm ferry for the short journey over the water, along with several people who were carrying an impressive array of heavy camping gear. Sporting heavy, cumbersome rucksacks, they transported their stuff down the jetty with the aid of wheelbarrows and ferry staff helped to load it on board. Newcastle Island is clearly a popular spot for camping breaks. The island is a marine provincial park, and a sacred site of the unpronounceable First Nation Snuneymuxw people, who know it as Saysutshun Island. The name Newcastle came about from the discovery of coal on the island in 1849 and took the name from the mining town of Newcastle-upon-Tyne when the British needed good quality coal from North America for their steamships. It boasts rustic and pristine beaches, playgrounds, family-friendly camping and a 22km hiking trail. We chose the shorter, outer loop trail that took in some of the coastal path. At the start of the trail was a sign warning that a cougar had been sighted a few weeks previously. As for bear-confrontations, the advice is to make yourself bigger and to roar at the animal. You most definitely should not run away. I’m all for standing up to bullies but I’m not sure I could follow that advice! Two cute raccoons were what we spotted first anyway. A group of people ahead of us were pointing upwards and there they were. First, we saw one clinging to the trunk and staring wide-eyed at us and as we got ready to photograph it, a smaller little black and white face popped out from a nearer tree as if to see what all the noise was. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a raccoon before let alone in its natural state. It still gives me a thrill to think of it now.

The walk was wonderful. Unlike our treks in Asia I didn’t have to worry about leeches or millipedes. There was no humidity or swamps and every now and then a cool breeze refreshed us from the afternoon heat. The various trees in the interior forested landscape were interesting enough in themselves. They were huge, gnarled and very tall Douglas fir, Oak and Big Leaf Maple trees. The colours were beautiful, and must be a glorious sight to behold in the autumn. We saw a deer nibbling at the leaves of a fallen tree near a beach, but we didn’t come across the cougar. At the end of the two hour walk we were going to have a drink in the bistro but it had closed a few minutes before we got there –at the early hour of 5pm! There were several families camping nearby and it seemed such a wasted opportunity for a restaurant to miss out on making money from holidaymakers and visitors at the height of the summer season. We caught the 5 15 ferry back to Nanaimo and had a slow walk back along the waterfront to the yacht club.

Prevost Island was our next stop on 13th August. This passage would take in another notorious narrow pass called Dodd Narrows. It’s the narrowest pass in the Gulf Islands and subject to swift currents according to Joe Upton, the author of my guide to the Inside Passage. He tells of the time in 1982 when he was towing a gill-netter with engine problems and failed to heed the warning to avoid passing through it against the tidal stream. He ended up swerving violently back and forth in the current while the guy he was towing had a tough time steering to stay off the rocks. Apparently he’d become so alarmed during the crossing he’d bitten his cigar in half! Needless to say Paul had done his research on the best time to go through, and when we arrived at the entrance, several other vessels were stationary, presumably waiting for the ideal time slot of midday. We heard boats from the north and south entrances on VHF broadcasting their intentions to go through and for any concerned vessels to radio back. We sped through it at 11 15! I think Paul was hoping for a bit of a ‘white water’ thrill. The gap looked very narrow from a distance and once we were going through I could see it would be tricky for wide boats to pass each other comfortably. Looking up at the holiday resort on the hill above us I noticed a bench that looked as if it had been placed for the sole purpose of watching the boats traversing the channel: a prime position to film or snap any drama. Two people were sat on it looking down as our group of boats motored past. Apart from more of a swirly sea, it was hard to know we’d gone over any rapids, although Paul said he felt the steering ‘pull’ a bit.

Annette Bay was a picturesque little sheltered bay to anchor for the night. Paul’s guide had mentioned river otters frequenting the banks but we didn’t see any. There were a couple of intriguing floating houses in the bay that I would have loved to look inside. I’d never seen anything quite like them before.

Our final place in Canada before we crossed the border to the US was Sidney Spit on Sidney Island, part of the Gulf Islands National Park. After trying unsuccessfully to anchor on the slippery kelp seabed, we picked up a mooring buoy. As it was early afternoon we launched the dinghy, parked it at the jetty and walked the length of the narrow sandy spit and back. It hadn’t looked very inspiring from the boat, being so flat and colourless but the sand was littered with enough things to delight any beachcomber. We saw all kinds of pretty shells and stones, fishing debris, unusual plants and washed-up logs, but thankfully no unsightly rubbish or plastic bottles.

We spent two nights at Sidney and on the second day we went on another nature trail. Having spotted picnic tables the day before, we took a packed lunch with us and after parking the dinghy, set off through the forest. The only wildlife we saw was a solitary deer in a classic ‘deer in the headlights’ pose in the centre of the path. It was a lovely walk though, and the tall, red-trunked cedar trees gave off a wonderful aroma. We ate our lunch near a campsite by the old brickworks. Surprisingly, from 1906 until 1915 the Sidney Tile and Brick Company operated a thriving brick making service utilising the island’s clay. There are still lots of red bricks littering the area. Children from the campsites build towers and structures with them now.

Back on the boat that evening, Paul was on the coach roof with binoculars looking at whales in the distance, their blowholes spouting water – a bit too far away to see properly but great to see nevertheless. We also saw seals diving and resurfacing in the flat calm water. I could still smell the gorgeous aromas coming from the forest on the evening breeze. No air freshener could ever capture that unique fragrance. It was a fitting evening for our last one in Canada for a while. The next day we would be travelling on to the United States.

Kathy

 

Monday morning
We left Port Ludlow in a most relaxing manner, not an early start, but with a little wind blowing us onto the dock I thought it was a good time for Kathy to try springing us off using the prop walk. This is the way many big boats often get away from the dock when space or wind is making it difficult. Basically if you are port side too, as we were, you put the wheel hard to port, full ahead with the throttle and basically try to run over the finger, but before the boat makes any real headway, the stern has swung out, and you slam it into reverse, wheel amidships and back you go. It works a treat when you have the room for the bowsprit to swing over the finger, and not take out the mooring pile.

Once away we were out into the foggy waters of Puget Sound. Many other yachts and motor boats appeared and were all heading roughly the same way. We crossed through the Traffic Separation Scheme at one of the roundabouts and just a few hours out of Port Ludlow we were hanging out the fenders for Shilshole Marina, Ballard, Seattle. I hoped when we arrived, to find a shop with a lady selling shells, so I could point her out to Kathy and remark that “She Sells Sea Shells in a Shilshole Shop”, but we didn’t find one 🙁

Shilshole Marina is on the northern shores of Seattle City, on the edge of a district called Ballard. It’s a huge marina, hundreds of berths with some interesting boatsand is next to the entrance to Lake Union and Lake Washington, which you access via the Washington Ship Canal after passing up the Ballard Locks. 

We easily tied up, checked in for two nights then set off to get provisions from the local Safeway. My local supermarket in the UK was a Safeway until they went bust and Morrisons took over, so I was keen to see if this Safeway did the 6 brown rolls for a pound offer. Again I was disappointed, however they did have a stunning array of Artisan bread, but I’m past paying $4 for a loaf. On the way to the grocery store (as they call it here) we stopped by the Ballard locks, there’s a good chance we might be going through them soon, and watched some boats pass into the lake side, it all looked pretty straightforward. We also watched the salmon in the salmon steps making their way home. A special underground viewing spot has been built to allow you to watch the salmon trying to get back to their birthplace. You can also see outside the locks, many salmon waiting to enter the passage with the steps. This is a man made version of the rocky rivers and waterfalls they would normally be tackling, all built by the US Army when the canal was first created.

My first job was to get SIM cards for us and get some data connectivity. Seattle doesn’t seem too hot on giving away free internet, and most of the marinas don’t have it, but in Shilshole you can subscribe to a fancy service. However for $45 with AT&T we each got a month of free calls/text and 6gb of data, which isn’t bad, a lot better than Canada, but nothing like Malaysia where 1gb of 4g costs 50 cent.  We now have AT&T US numbers and are up and running on the net.

We popped into a bar on the way back and Kathy enjoyed her glass of wine while I spent an hour trying to get my SIM card to work. (It looks like they like the stout here)

I’m taking my time to get used to the American gregariousness, one one level, I’m sure the checkout staff at Safeway don’t give a monkeys about whether I have a good day or not, and I guess when you have said it/ heard it a million times, it probably loses its meaning anyway, on the other hand we meet some very friendly helpful people, who genuinely do seem to want me to have a nice day. Being a normally reserved Englishman, it’s a little confusing. A smile is usually sufficient 😉 Things are pricey here in Seattle, as they were in Canada, I could just be getting too miserly, if I divide the cost of everything by 2 then everything seems fine, but that plan has a long term flaw. Also we are coming from a few years in SE Asia where $3 gets you a very nice dinner.  It’s great to have a good choice of quality produce here, also I love the sights and sounds, big trains, pulling never ending cars (They call train trucks cars here). The whistle of the locos and the sounds of the police cars make me think of Casey Jones and Hill Street Blues!

Yesterday we headed downtown, we took in the Elliot Bay marina on the way as they had an offer for longer term visitors I wanted to check out. The city have made great bike trails here, but sadly for us the Seattle port Authority made a new cruise terminal dock on top of the trail, at least that what it looks like on google maps, so we had quite a detour to get to the marina.However once there we signed up for 2 weeks berthing. We cycled onto the space needle area, as we planned to spend a few hours in the Pop Music Museum there, however when we arrived it was getting late and I was surprised to see the admission fee was nearly $30 each, and I don’t even like grunge. $30 buys a lot of shackles! So we decided that Kathy would come back later in the week and spend the whole day there to get her moneys worth while I took my $30 down to the docks to see what I could find (In the chandleries).

One thing I hadn’t really appreciated about Seattle was the amount of hills around, for some reason I had always thought of it as a coastal town on a strip of coast in the NW of America, but looking at a map it’s a complete mess of mainland, islands, islands that are actually connected to mainland by spits, canals and lakes.Once again I find myself in a place where I think I need a year or more to fully get to know the geography and a bit of the culture.

After the Museum recce we headed back hoping to take in one of the other big supermarkets here. It was going to be a ‘Fred Meyer’ or ‘Trader Joe’, both great names I thought. We followed the shoreline of Lake Union on the way back.Then over to Ballard across the Ship Canal. There is no shortage of homeless people sleeping on the sidewalks and in tents on grass verges here.

We ended up at a gigantic Fred Meyer, that was like a B&Q and Tesco in one. Good prices too, so stocked up we headed back to the boat.

This morning (Wednesday) we slept in, and at 11:30 slipped our berth in Shilshole and motored the 4.9NM West then South East to Elliot Bay Marina where we are checked in for 14 days. It’s lovely here, very peaceful,  It’s about 25 minutes to cycle into the centre of Seattle from here, so I expect to be doing a bit of that, also it’s close to Ballard where there are stacks of marine companies that can help me get some of the boat jobs completed.

Plenty of boats sending out AIS signals here.

 

Paul Collister