It's been almost a week since getting back from my longest trip to-date on Makana, and... have confirmed a few things, learned some new things and even gained the solution to a mystery.
Things confirmed?
-- I love this boat. The more time I spend with her, the more I realize the truth of what Christian has said about the 32, it's a great all-around boat. Crossing the Strait early on the morning of July 5th was a little... snotty. 2-3 foot groundswell from the west, plus a northwesterly breeze of 18-20 knots pushing a pretty lively "square" chop against the tide. Not any easy patch of water, no way to steer around the waves, just kinda need to push through them... and she really came alive. First time I've really had her on-the-wind in other than the usual summer Puget Sound mill-pond conditions, and I found myself grinning about what a joy she is to sail. (big grin)
-- the Ericson community is the best. We had, I think, a total of 13 boats and maybe 30 people between Friday and Sunday in Genoa Bay. The old axiom says that one out of three people in a group is a jerk, and if the people on your right and left are nice, the jerk is you. Well, *I* must be the jerk because I thoroughly enjoyed all the people I met in Genoa Bay. I'm already looking forward to next year, and hope some of them will be long-term friends and cruising buddies.
Things learned?
-- Kevin was totally right about the tide-call headed north across the Strait. He recommended being past Point Wilson 2 hours before the slack, otherwise it'd be a "washing machine". So I dragged my lazy butt out of the rack at 0400, and was past Point Wilson by 0440 in front of an 0630 slack. It worked great. Even though the water was sloppy, the currents were either benign, or going the right way, and the crossing went fine. I talked to a boat that was headed the same way when I got to Sidney, but left a couple of hours later than me, and he said he *really* didn't enjoy fighting the currents all day.
-- probably the best single investment I made going into this trip was the Canadian current-atlas and associated Waggoner tables. More than paid for themselves in helping me route around adverse currents and even find favorable ones. That sneaky little counter-current pointed straight at Sidney along the west side of San Juan Island, while the major flow past Victoria was the wrong direction? Totally there! Basically got sucked up the coast past Lime Kiln, ejected out into Haro and then through Hughes Passage. Easy Peasy. Similarly, coming back "Finally Free" and I found about 4 knots of favorable current on the outside of Blakely and Decatur Islands, which pretty much swooshed us down Rosario and into Admiralty Inlet, at SOGs averaging over 10 knots. Fun stuff! And... I can't imagine how much less fun it would have been to be going *against* that flow.
-- border crossings were far, far less complicated than I had made them in my head. In this post-9/11 world I imagined that inflatables full of armed border guards would be boarding and inspecting my boat for every detail of compliance. Couldn't have been farther from the truth. Coming into Sidney, I cleared by phone and had my clearance number taped to the window long before I got into the marina. Coming back into Roche, I cleared again by phone and had a clearance number before arriving at the dock. In both cases, the hardest part of the whole process (other than "not laughing" when they asked if I had any explosives aboard) was getting a good connection by cell-phone, both conversations were garble-y, and I had to ask people to repeat things more than I would have liked, but the process itself was easy.
--The US-CBP agent recommended that I get a "BR" number, which would make the process even simpler. I have a DTOPs number (which identifies the boat), and a NEXUS card (which identifies me), but apparently a BR number would provide them the answers to most of the questions I got asked on re-entry, and would make for a much shorter call. Food for thought.
-- jacket pockets are a crappy place to keep a phone while cleaning up a boat. Yep. Heard a clunk, and a splash, and my iPhone was gone. at 5pm, in Port Townsend, on the 4th of July, after telling all my people to use cell as the primary way to get a hold of me. Arrggh. Turns out, there were no divers interested in looking for a lost iPhone in the Point Hudson Marina on the 4th of July. But, as it turns out, there was a Verizon store on the hill, open until 6. A few hours later, thanks to a friendly wi-fi connection, I had my apps reinstalled, my contacts synced, my international calling-plan in place on the new device, and was back in business. Lost a few days worth of photos, and a few hundred bucks, but... I'm counting those among my lessons learned.
-- And, probably most of all, I (re) learned just how beautiful this part of the world is. Coming up the west side of the San Juans, across through rocky-tree-lined passes, the occasional Dahl's Porpoise or eagle to keep me company... just amazing. And refreshing. After leaving Genoa Bay I meandered east through Satellite, up around Stanley Point and down Plumper Sound (between North Pender and Mayne), on my way to Roche, and saw probably 30 places that looked interesting to visit. there are probably dozens more I didn't see, and that's just one trek through one Sound in the southern Gulf Islands. the San Juans were similar.
-- Rosario was a special treat; hadn't originally planned to go there but on a recommendation from Karin of Achates, I added a day to my trip just to go there and chill a bit. Gorgeous, peaceful place, with a surprisingly good bar-and-grill just steps from the dock. My first time there, it won't be the last. On the flip side, Roche is... just not my thing. Too busy, too many people, too much... going on. I felt like I was in a shopping-center parking lot rather than a quiet marina. The only "good" memory I'm taking away from Roche is... the Dungeness crab-leg "appetizer" at the grill is totally worth the 20 bucks they charge for it.
And... somewhere in the middle, a mystery solved.
-- Somewhere on the forums I've pondered where my "mystery water" is coming from. Sometimes I go out for a sail and bilge is just the way I left it. Other times, I have gallons of water in the bilge. It's been bugging me. I've checked the dripless, it's fine; I know it's not coming through keelbolts, I have eliminated the 6 through-hulls under the stern counter. Turns out, it's the rudder gland... but only (apparently) under certain conditions. Motoring a 6 knots in flat water, not a drip. But motor-sailing with enough speed or heel to push the stern down into the trough? It's a geyser. Well, maybe not *that* bad, but... I'd say roughly 1/4-cup per minute, coming out the top of the rudder gland. Enough that, crossing the Strait, I ended up doing about 30 good strokes on the manual bilge-pump every hour to keep it at bay. I'll be searching for Christian's posts on how to fill a rudder post with grease, and maybe rehab/replace the gland packing while I'm back there.
All in all, a super-enjoyable week. 9 days from dock to dock, 7 places, ~250 miles according to the satellite track, can't wait to do it some more.
Bruce
Is this when the potluck is supposed to happen?
