Sharing the adventures and horizons of the good sloop Akimbo and her crew going sailing... You might want to start at the "beginning" (October 3, 2009)? Thank you for visiting. It means a lot to me, so please leave comments or e-mail me @ jonthowe@gmail.com, and encourage others to visit too. It's a way for me to feel your company even from afar. Good luck to us all. Love and hope, jon

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Final leg


Before i start telling you about the final leg of this trip, i want to share a few photos from our all-too-short visit to Hawaii.  Our friend, Jim, did his best to take Greg and i on a few quick hikes and whet our appetites for coming back.  Pololu was the name of the beach we hiked to.
















There is something remarkable about having a friend waiting for you where you are going.  Thus i am remarking.  Especially so with Jim and Dar.  One comes away from meeting Jim feeling well met.  He wants to do something, anything, for you.  Like you're doin' him a favor to let him meet and help you?  When what you are enjoying is meeting him.  And Dar's gracious welcome parallels that feeling.  She can't wait to have you over.  Thank you both very, very much.










Again excerpted from our noon position reports.  

Tough stuff, beating or close reaching against 20 knots and 6 to 8 foot seas.  Starboard tack.  Life at an angle.  Under solent jib and triple reefed main.  6.9 knot average speed, noon to noon.  HOT sun and clouds.  One crew member motion sick.  But she's game anyway and stands her watches.  Akimbo doing well what she was made for.  The chores we took care of at our last harbor seem to be standing us in good stead.  Dropped the jib this morning to check its halyard for chafe.  Found a flat spot in it but no chafe.  Wrapped some sail repair tape around the flat spot and re-hoisted.  This'll be a daily check.  Wind should clock a bit more tomorrow according to the weather charts, and life be a little more reachy/less heeled over with it.


Beam reaching now, but still tough out here.  And beautiful too.  Big swells and steadily 20+ knot winds.  Sailing under triple reefed main and jib still, with main traveled well down.  Appetites are low...likely bought too much food for this leg. 

Curious:  woke up to find flag and flag staff at the transom…gone.  No one saw it go.  Before dawn, shackle on the starboard running backstay broke, replaced it and re-tensioned the stay.

Very good crew, unphased by the weather's intensity.  A wave just tried to splash thru the dodger, into the companionway and onto the computer!  I slammed it shut and got more wet than the computer.  Close one, that.  Would have stopped these noon reports in their tracks...and you'd be left worrying about us.  At which point my back-up report would be the "we're okay" button on Art's "Spot" beacon…and you'd have to call each other.  Will keep the companionway hatch slid shut now. 

Hooked a big fish and had a good fight until the line broke.  I think it was a dorado. 

Gettin' tired of this but expecting more of it.  I keep reviewing the textbooks on this leg and finding we are following their lessons.  Seas big now, occasionally breaking. This young crew laughs at getting splashed.  We're wearing our harnesses now when we are on deck.  Kinda just hangin' on. 


After yesterday's noon report, conditions began to moderate.  Last night’s sail was very pleasant.  Woke up and shook two reefs out of the main.  Pretty glorious, close reaching at over 7 knots on relatively calm and sunny seas.  In a way it feels like we've paid our dues for an easy day.  Enjoyed a brief visit from a school or porpoise this morning.  And lost our 4th lure to another fish too big for us.  Hot showers for everyone, outdoors, at the swimstep, ahhh!  Always a morale booster.  We are profoundly lucky. 

We wish you were here.  And so do you. 

Given the weather reports we receive from our fathers (thank you Bud and thank you Gary), plus the grib files i get and re-reading the textbooks...we began our easting a little earlier than originally planned (plans being especially subject to change out here).  There's an ugly lookin' low churnin' SE in the Gulf of Alaska that we want to stay well away from (south of).  At the same time, the LAST thing we want to do is close with the coast south of the Straits of Juan de Fuca and have to beat up the coast.  Meantime, the High we want to leave to starboard?  It's too big to miss.  We'd be wasting miles and time trying to go around it.  Thus we began our northeasterly arc from 33 north and 159 west and expect to motor some.  The drifter has been working magic for us, to keep us sailing in very little wind.

This morning we got a big tuna to the swimstep before s/he gave a last thrash and got away.  So we're learning, visions of sushi dancing in our heads.


Well, we put the calms of the Pacific High to good use:  went for a brief mid-ocean swim; cooked a big dinner while the galley was quiet.  Only motored 5 or 6 engine hours, put the drifter back up and sat in the cockpit to watch a movie. 

In the night, went to the genoa alone, and around dawn, the jib alone.  Morning found us broad reaching in 25ish knot winds at 6 plus knots.  Rolling quite a bit in building 8' seas.  Since then the wind has, as expected, clocked to the north.  Welcome to port tack.  We are now - noon - beating under jib and triple reefed main.  

If the weather info we got about the ugly storm now crossing our bow about 600nm away still holds (moving east at 35 knots?!), it is past our closest point of approach (about 550 nm).  But we are warned that as much as 720nm in our direction, until noon today, we could feel 25 to 40 knot winds and see 8 to 14 foot seas (better than the 35 to 50 knot winds and 15 to 30 foot seas ?! at the storm itself).  We remain alert and battened down.  By tomorrow this thing that has all our attention should be well away.


A long night of winds arcing back and forth thru 40+ degrees, from single digit strengths to mid-20 knot gusts...  We "fought a good fight" and made what progress we could.  But this morning, as i write, we motor a few hours to make more northing and find better winds.  I'll write more at noon.  Weather is turning markedly colder now, under gray skies.

Almost noon, Kara called us up as she reeled a dorado close up to the boat.  S/he (the fish) freaked out up close and took off.  I tried reeling him/her in.  Jack took over and finally the fish jumped and got off.  Jack thinks he is cursed as a fisherman - we need to convince him otherwise. 

Okay, wind and waves looking more consistent - or at least our optimistic eyes see them so.  Engine off.  Jib back up.  Whew!  Sailing again…”a superior form of travel."  Thank you very much.  So grateful to have the engine, more grateful to not have to use it. 


And now...good afternoon.  The wind has continued to back to the NW, still at 14 knots.  So we are on a course of 25 degrees magnetic, speed of 7.5 knots and REACHING.  Oh boy! 


We are north of 40.  Basically halfway.  So it's time for everyone to place their bets by estimating our time of arrival at Shilshole. My guess?  Before noon on September 30. 

We hooked another tuna today, but again s/he was too big for us.  We fought and s/he then took back whatever we had reeled in.  Finally our line broke.  It’s startin’ to feel like anyone who catches a fish out here will also gain one of our lures.

Noon position:  39 degrees 45' north and 152 degrees 9' west.  Distance made:  164nm. 
Halfway?  Time for a toast. 


Startin' to look like home?  Awoke to gray skies, 30 knot winds, big waves, occasionally breaking, water temp 66.2F...but we're still 1100nm away.  My crew seems to welcome and relax into these things.  True northwesterners, hardy stock.  We expect less wind tomorrow and then more of the same after that. 

Broad reaching under triple reefed main and jib.  Deep dipping and reeling.  Gotta hang on to get about the cabin.  Considering...this is going pretty well.  But Akimbo is workin' hard - she's got new leaks showin' up.  This's a little disappointing, but to be expected.  She’s not new, in fact she’s gettin’ older and has not sat at a dock but travelled far.  "The list" of work she'll need is growing. 

Sighted a big ship this morning for only the third time this leg.  The AIS (thank you Tina and Jim for gifting it to Akimbo) reveals more shipping nearby but over the horizon (5 at a time)...as far as 93 miles away. 

It’s time to rest and pace ourselves. 


We've been beam reaching in solid 25 knot NW winds and 10 to 15 foot waves all night.  When we look up from the troughs of the bigger waves, we estimate they top out above our lower spreaders.  Say 20'.  Gusts are into the lower 30s.  Jib and triple reefed main are doing yeoman's duties.  So far as i can tell from the grib files and forecasts, we're in for a few more days of the same.  While today, Puget Sound has gale warnings. 

Sitting at a table lit by Florida sunshine nine months ago, with charts and paper in hand, the guiding ideas for planning this trip and keeping it fun were 1. to get out of hurricane territory in a timely manner and 2. get into the NW before the winter storms and 3. enjoy the scenery and company along the way.  While the storms seem mostly focused on the Gulf of Alaska, we are feeling their effects and they seem early this year.  The #2 goal of the plan isn't working out.  I guess the plan should have been more subject to change.  What are our options?  We're not goin' back to Hawaii.  We're committed here. 

Last night after running the generator to charge up, i smelled diesel in the garage.  Investigating today, inside the gen's sound shield i find fuel to mop up.  Can't see where it's coming from.  Instead i see a pinhole leak at the fitting where the exhaust hose hooks up.  Dangerous. to one’s health, exhaust leaks...looks like we will rely on the main engine for charging this last week.  The engine being noisier, consuming three times as much fuel and charging a quarter as fast as the gen...still, glad we've got the engine. 

A big wave came aboard this morning and busted out most of a dodger window, around its edges - we hand stitched it back into place.  It leaks more but suffices.  The hatch over the galley is dripping a little...  Chaos is chipping away at us.  Pained to see Akimbo's defenses crumble, we fight back where and when we can.  Still, the important things are here - the jib, the autopilot, instruments to navigate by...and a good crew's cheer in the face of everything.


We sailed thru a pleasant night.  (tho what i might call "pleasant" you might not)  Winds and seas moderating a bit.  Stars out.  COLD.  This morning i fired the furnace up to take the chill off. 

No new news is good news.  We keep finding our ever changing equilibrium out here.  Don't know what else to tell you (i must be tired).  Our AIS tells us we will see some shipping go by within the hour.  There is a beauty out here, a very dynamic beauty, shifting and moving, sun coming up and contrasting with grays, sharply white white caps...tumbling, gnashing...  Asking each of the crew for an adjective:  Jack describes this place as a giver of perspective and gratitude;  Kara names humbling, salty, infinite and blue;  Jen says "boundless, endlessly unique and immediate."  Wow, i think they got it.  "You don't have to be old to be wise."

It feels like we've "turned a corner?"  Or maybe it's just the music on the stereo (thank you again Susanne and Juli, for their compilation) and the sun on deck.  It feels like we don't have to work so hard for our northing now and can beat feet for our easting.   Wishful thinking?  Shall see. 


I see a jet's con trail in the sky as i write this.  Another sign of civilization. 

There is a High chasing us.  I don't know why it's so persistent, but it seems to be shouldering aside the Lows.  We're trying to stay ahead of it, to take advantage of 15 to 25 knot winds and beat it to the coast.  To Tatoosh Island, to the Straits.  If it catches us...Thursday? we will be motoring in its calm. 


Thru the night, the winds dropped to ten-ish knots and clocked well forward on us.  Seas dropping.  The crew trimmed well to the shifts.  Under genoa and full main we've been close reaching around 7 knots.  Some blankets of stratus clouds with some blues in between just now    gave way to lots of blue and winds under 5.  In other words, the High seems to have caught up with us...we just now turned the motor on...after quite a pleasant noon to noon (moonlight on water, whoosh of our wake, world to ourselves...). 

A high point is that Jack persisted with our fishing:  we finally landed a tuna.  10+#, 3 or 4 meals worth.  Oh boy!  Fish tacos for dinner last night.  Tuna fried rice for lunch today.  Sushi?  Any other suggestions?   


Oh my kingdom for a square rigger.  Did i write that?  I didn't mean it.  Really.  But last night the winds went light again and aft while the seas shook out whatever the sails would catch.  Anything else and we could sail, but we motored 5 or so hours.  Tired of the noise and fumes, about dawn we were more willing to compromise our course.  Kara and i hoisted the drifter and we sailed 30 or 40 degrees north of course to keep it full.  The wind built to 19 true.  At 7 knots of  boatspeed we felt 12 knots across the deck when, without warning, the drifter split completely in half.  Half at the masthead, the other half swimming along side.  Instead of having to go aloft to get the remnant down, Kara simply pulled the sock/snuffer down and with it what was left of the sail.  Cool!  We drug the rest of the sail out of the water, stuffed the whole mess in its bag and unrolled the genoa.  It was a warhorse of a sail and owed me nothing more. 

Some hours later, still not satisfied with being off course and the quartering sea slapping the genoa around, i decided to hoist the tri-radial spinnaker.  With its pole well aft, seemed we might make our course and good time too.  Bad decision.  I very rarely choose this combo and we blew the hoist.  The sail is fine but i've got more repairs to make.  Damn!
No Jack, it's an ear patch, not a nose patch. 

Okay, so next we tried the main and genoa wing and wing.  Again the seas were uncooperative.  So now we are very broad reaching (still 20 degrees off our course) on starboard tack with the main way out and half the genoa (half collapses in the lee of the main less than the whole thing).  Expecting to tack downwind to the Straits.  Starting to wonder if we will ever get there.  Feelin' like a rookie again.  Do you get some idea of how much work this can be?  I once compared the lifelines on the foredeck to the ropes around a boxing ring. 

Just a moment ago a very big whale surfaced parallel to us on starboard at most 70' off.  Whoa, big fella!  That’s close enuf.    Guessing s/he is at least as big as Akimbo.  Jen spotted him/her (or another) a little while later similarly close off our port side.  And then…they were gone.

We are in fog, glad for the radar and the AIS.  Chatted with a 592' cargo ship 6 miles off our starboard beam, "Tiger East" heading for the Columbia River from Asia, and confirmed we show up on their radar. 

I've been wearing my foulies and boots too long.  Can't take them off for fear of the odor.  Maybe you can smell us comin' already.  


Had to "get back on that horse." 

We spent the night under the genoa, going 5 to 7 knots and very nearly in the direction we wanted.  But around dawn the wind got lighter and backed and the waves were shaking the sail and rig while we went over 30 degrees off course.  So we hoisted the spinnaker and pole again and have been enjoying good speed about 15 degrees off our rhumb line to Tatoosh Island.  With good luck, we will carry this until dusk and then switch to the genoa for the night.  Prayer:  may the taking down the spinnaker go well when the time comes. 

The night started with the NW misting rain that soaks to the bone...but soon got better.  Y'know how the eskimos have 80 some names for snow?  Can anyone explain to me what northwesterners mean by "rain turning to showers?" 


Anchored in Neah Bay. 
THAT was "a day and a half."
I think it was the third(?) storm of the year to hit the NW that caught us "out there."  So please forgive the tardiness of this report - we were busy.  The weather forecast (thank you Gary and Jim) pretty much tells it. 

"Tonight: W wind 5 to 15 kt...becoming S 15 to 25 kt after midnight. Wind waves 1 to 2 ft...building to 2 to 4 ft.
W swell 5 ft at 7seconds...building to 7 ft at 14 seconds.
A chance of showers...then rain after midnight.

Sat: S wind 15 to 25 kt...becoming SW 25 to 35 kt in the afternoon. Combined seas 9 to 12 ft with a dominant period of 13 seconds. Rain.

Sat Night: SW wind 25 to 35 kt...becoming 25 to 30 kt after midnight.
Combined seas 14 to 17 ft with a dominant period of 12 seconds…” 

In other words, ugly.  And getting worse.  We don’t want to be out here any more.  This will soon be THE very wrong place to be.  We want out of here in the worst way, and we want some shelter from the storm.  We want to anchor in Neah Bay.  But CAN we get what we want?   

We got the spinnaker down in the nick of time as the weather worsened, glad for the progress it had given us.  With luck, it put us within range of where we are tonight.  The genoa carried us downwind until it started to blow too hard for all of it.  We wrapped up half of it and carried on.  By dawn its lack of help to windward was going to send us to the shores of Vancouver Island.  To make matters worse…there is no sign of water flowing out the engine’s exhaust.  Effectively, we have no engine.  I begin keep confirming the sea-strainer is clear, and begin replacing the water pump impellor.  This is easy to write, but, tossed about in a boat on stormy seas…imagine. 

I’m not one inclined to this, but i called the Coast Guard on the VHF radio.  Wondering why i called, they asked if we needed assistance.  “No, i replied.  But i want you to know that we are out here, and where here is.  If more things go wrong, this could get serious.”  I proceeded to answer all their questions, spelling our names for them by using the “alpha, bravo, charlie, delta, echo…” alphabet.  They replied that they would NOT monitor our float plan, but to call them if we need them.” 

So we tried the storm jib and triple reefed main - found the storm jib too small to be any use.  Back to the trusty old jib, with a prayer.  But boy was that the right choice.  Suddenly instead of being dragged toward a lee shore (best case: a harbor to shelter in, worst case: shipwreck), we could point even closer to the wind than our destination required.  (“destination:  a place from which the wind blows”).  Our prospects improved drastically.  If we pushed to average at least 7 knots, we MIGHT make it to Neah Bay by dark. 

It was a truly rough day.  The kind of day when i'm on shore that i say "sure am glad i'm not out there today."  And worse to come.  But our luck held, we're all soaked.  Clammy in here! We're safe and sound and will consider our next sail in the morning.  Thank you crew, thank you Akimbo, thank you luck of the draw. 

Tired.  Good night,

(I learned later that as i posted that last “report” via sailmail to friends and family (we found no cell service in Neah Bay), Tyler was actually on the phone inquiring from the Coast Guard if they had heard from us.  He may have been even more concerned, knowing me, to learn that i had indeed contacted them.  And Kara’s parents, sailors too, were too well aware of what the weather was dealing to us.  They were worried.  But then our report arrived in their e-mails and they could breathe a sigh of relief. 

Our good luck held.  It seems my long trips end with a storm (having said that, i’ll likely never be able to get crew again for a last leg of a trip).  My 2010 trip ended on a really stormy November night.  That night i clearly learned a lesson:  never stop trying to sail your boat.  Continue to consider the engine a last option, keep trying to play your game instead of letting the conditions overwhelm you out of your tools, out of whatever you’ve gained from experience, out of your wisdom…and into simply holding on.  Maybe it was dumb luck that we came thru this storm okay, or maybe it was because we remained pro-active.  While this storm gave us a thrashing and we have wounds to lick, it held some much worse possibilities that we are glad to have dodged.)


Good morning. 
We have time to get 50nm closer to home, to Port Angeles, before the worst of this weather hits.  The forecasts we are hearing on the VHF radio are phenomenally ugly.  And we hear there's something there called a "shower," and something else, maybe "cell service?"  And "laundry" perhaps...  So, picture us stumbling about the docks there as if we were drunk (we might be) because our sea-legs haven't been ashore for 17 days.  If Monday is as bad as advertised, we might just stay there...or with luck make the next 20nm to Port Townsend?  Or even home.  We'll let you  know. 


Okay, that last day is a report in itself.  

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I was following the grib files while you did the Hawaii to Seattle leg. My thoughts were: they are gonna get light winds and then they are gonna get hammered. Hope they get close before the hammer. Enjoyed the details in the blog. From the armchair.

Jay Byrne said...

Sorry... wasn't supposed to be anonymous: Jay Byrne