Whew!

After being within radio range of shore, we had been listening to the weather channels on the VHF.  What we were hearing forecast was hard to believe.  "Are they kidding?"  They were reporting hurricane force winds along the coast, gale warnings turning to storm warnings, and seas that could get as high as 30 feet and on 15 second periods.  "If this is a comedy, it's NOT funny."  Any time the period between the seas is less than their height, life out there is like living in a washing machine.  But 30 feet on 15 seconds?  I can't imagine.  As we pulled into a slip at Port Angeles Boat Haven, we saw more than one person on the dock doubling up mooring lines and a few of them told us we had got in just in time.

But we never felt the weather we had been led to expect.  Maybe it's because Port Angeles was in the lee of the Olympic Mountains.   We found ourselves motoring due to lack of wind as we departed early the next morning to catch the flood into Puget Sound.  As we approached Port Townsend a reasonable wind came up out of the south and our deeply reefed main and jib, combined with the current, carried us at over ten knots at times.  THIS was too good to not take advantage of, so we gave up any thought of stopping in PT.  Three big tacks took us past Marrowstone Island and to Bush Point's squeeze of Admiralty Inlet.

There the wind went light.  We shook out reefs, put the jib away and unrolled the genoa and finally resorted to motoring.  We enjoyed beers and talk of the first things we would do when we got to shore. We called family and friends who would meet us there to give them an ETA of dusk.  But all that changed at Point No Point, where a solid 25 knot wind in our teeth met us.  It felt almost mean to have to triple reef the main and at least unroll part of the genoa, to don our foulies and even put our harnesses back on.

Nearing Edmonds, the only other sailboat out there spun round upon our approach and waved.  We waved back and blew on by - they were under reefed main and motor and put in at Edmonds.  We still don't know who they were or if we knew them.  At this point we considered motoring too, but the engine refused to pump raw water thru its exhaust - which meant it would soon overheat.  Winds gusting into the 30s, finally we rolled up the genoa, unpacked and hoisted the trusty old jib again - NOW we could really sail to weather, if only that old rag and its halyard would hold together.  Still, we had to call friends and family back and revise our ETA.

As dark fell, we listened to a few dramas developing on the Sound.  Another sailboat without instruments, lights and with a weak engine was being shadowed by a Coast Guard cutter until he could be directed to someplace safe to re-anchor.  Flares had been sighted off West Seattle.  "There but for the grace of whatever..." went us.

Finally we tacked for the south end of Shilshole's breakwater, tired, wet, cold and late.  It felt like the day had "thrown a lot at us."  To add insult to injury, the light we were looking for at the end of the breakwater was out.  Luckily we had enuf local knowledge to make our way in, drop sail and motor a minimum (so the engine wouldn't overheat) into the slip.  Where...we were greeted by applause?!

Oh my!  Twenty or so hardy souls, many of whom had been crew over the past seven months, were there to catch our lines and welcome us home.  Their numbers had dwindled as the night had worn on.  We were getting in at nearly nine pm.  Their welcome stirred too many deep emotions for me to single any out.  I felt overwhelmed, grateful, sorry, happy...  I wish i had made that last week look smooth and easy, but what has pride got to do with anything?  We were in, unhurt, smelly, safe and glad to be home...well met and hugged.  Thank you all!

Closing tho'ts soon.