the day of thousands of porpoise

What a day! While my crew still sleeps i am trying to keep up here with a posting...before setting sail for another day. Yesterday was the kind of day that makes me look forward to today. Who knows, maybe today will make me wonder what tomorrow will bring. Do you remember that feeling as a kid? You didn't want to take a nap because you didn't want anything to happen without you? Kinda like that. When the buddhist in me appreciates the morning light pouring in and the sound of peaceful sleepers and the luck of this next breath. Not the kid, not the monk, always somewhere in between...where we all belong.

We started early enuf to admire the "sky on fire" as the sun rose. The weather was light yesterday as we made the 40 miles from Oxnard to LA. And for only the second day so far, we sailed up wind. The seas were small if not downright calm, more like a bay or sound than an open ocean. By the end of the day we had motored about an hour, and we finished on the full main and drifter.

In the morning Cody got our fishing career off to a good start catching a small tuna. We haven't had any "keepers" yet, but we figure we're learnin' as we go.

Then the porpoise showed up! I looked up ahead and saw a few splashes and fins, only to realize

that there were more beyond them, and more closer than them, and more beyond those...to the horizon. "Porpoise!" i called to Ty and Cody. "Hundreds!" Not yet able to imagine... "Okay, maybe a thousand"...."Okay, make that plural, thousands..." Beautiful creatures. What is it about them that seems joyous?

In the transition between the morning's southeast wind and the afternoon's west wind, we...dove off the boat. The water (about 400' deep) not warm, but not PNW cold either. Just a quick dip, and then warm rinse with the back deck shower. Perfect! "That" feeling arrived - "there is no place else i would rather be than right here right now."

Dinner? Grilled blackened tuna (from the freezer this time), sauteed vegies, rice and salad, wine and a big Cadbury bar busted up into lots of pieces. Thank you very much.

Today? (Halloween?) We're aimin' for Catalina. Thinkin' tomorrow San Diego - where we'll go to the Mexican consulate and take care of paperwork. Then Ensenada - my crew is champin' at the bit to get into MX.

Oxnard, CA

I really appreciate when a plan works. It was good that we all got a good night's sleep (at a dock) before the next leg. After breakfast, Sunday morning we split up in Monterey - another place i like (has there been one i haven't liked?). Med student Lomo went for a run and then studied, Ty and Cody walked around town, i went to the aquarium (superior!). Back at the boat about noon, we departed for southern CA at 1:00.

We had a beautiful reach down the coast (love the sparkles! on the water). The first night we sailed with the jib alone. The wind lightened up and by noon Monday we had the full main and drifter up. Of course this called up the wind and we enjoyed

pushin' 9 knots until 3:00...when we finally broached. In the process of recovering from that...we tore the drifter. Darn! Should have known better and taken it down an hour earlier. (So it is at the sail loft now, getting patched. We should get it back tomorrow night and head down to Marina del Rey first thing Friday.)

The wind and waves continued to build Monday. At sunset we were on the genoa alone, and soon rolled half of it up. On this leg we stayed a little closer to shore, so we saw more shipping. That night, once in Santa Barabara channel, we had the new experience of navigating around the offshore oil rigs - not hard at all to do, the way they're lit up.

We arrived here at 11:00 Tuesday, well ahead of Lomo's Wednesday flight out. More importantly, we were ahead of the next big blow! As forecast, at about 3:00, tied up safe and sound here "the wind came on to blow!" I was glad we were NOT still out there. Our luck continues!

Dear friend Susan picked us up for dinner and a sleep over at her home in LA - delicious and dear! Grocery shopped, dropped Lomo at the airport - thank you for joining us and being such good crew. You got the "full effect" of offshore sailing with 8 foot swells and 30+ knot gusts most of the night. You'll find cruising (anchoring or mooring for the night) much less tiring.

Onward we go!

jon

Monterey, CA

Today our next crew joined us: Cody McG and Laura Morgan (Lomo - always the snappy dresser, hat from goodwill). Oh Boy! What fun. This would not be near as much fun without dear friends to share it with. Thank you Joe Rupa and Anna for driving them from the SF airport this morning and joining us for breakfast out.

We left at noon in fog. The wind looked like it wasn't going to attend the day, but as forecast, we soon had a romping good broad reach across the 21 nautical miles of Monterey Bay. A good day

for the new crew to acclimate, and to enjoy the newness of their experiencing this. A night at the dock here to catch up on sleep and be ready for what looks to be a windy ride to Santa Barbara Channel.

We saw sea lions, birds, porpoise and sea otter today. Played euchre. Cody is rigging the rods for some fishing... Really am happy he and Lomo are here.

G'night,

jon

Santa Cruz!

Leaving the Golden Gate bridge behind us in the fog.

Almost an unwritten law for prudent mariners is this: don't go into an unknown port in the dark. I've never been to Santa Cruz before, so it was falling into the domain of this law. Given this context, what were our options for getting here? At about 75 nautical miles away, conservatively estimating a 5 knot average, the math says it would take us 15 hours to get here from San Fran. So, leave at the crack of dawn (7am), hope to average faster and arrive here in no more than 12 hours? What if the wind died and we got here in the dark? We would have to heave to (stall, chill, back the sails so we don't go anywhere) and wait for dawn. Plus there is considering the ebb out of the Bay, or bucking the flood into it... Imagine getting out as early as possible only to have to stall once we get here. The better choice seemed to be to leave San Fran on the late afternoon ebb, sail all night, and arrive here when we would have come in anyway - thus getting most of a day to wander around SF.

So, that's what we did, and it's more than you wanted to know about how sailors think about this stuff. Anyway, we faced sailing all night as just the two of us (and with no moon), and left the Bay on the late afternoon big ebb...in fog. This was NOT thick fog, but we were glad for the radar's help, especially when it got dark. Once again, as per the forecast, we enjoyed wind and waves going our way, reached (it's a sailing term for sailing across or with the wind) all night, made some sail changes (mostly to slow down so we wouldn't get here before dawn) and gybed, stood one man watches, religiously wore our harnesses and clipped in, and got here in 17 hours. It really could not have gone much smoother.

Our weather luck continues. If "gentlemen never sail up wind," we've been near perfect gentlemen. Spent today, napping and then wandering around Santa Cruz. First impressions...i really like this place.

Would you like to know a little more about what offshore sailing is like? The fact that we are sailing 24/7 creates the environ we live in and the demands we have to meet. The biggest challenge (key to keeping the boat sailing well) is sleep. A tired crew makes bad decisions, fumbles at even simple tasks...is a step away from injury and other mistakes that could endanger the rest of the crew and the boat. That's why there is a clear "watch schedule." Whenever one can, off watch one should rest up for your next turn on watch.

The best places to sleep on a boat are aft (towards the back of the boat). The front of the boat is crashing thru waves, up and down,etc...so that is where we throw our duffel bags and stow stuff out of the way. The settees in the middle of the boat and in the aft cabin ride more comfortably. So we've put sheets on the cushions there, and arranged "lee cloths" on the inboard edge of the settees - these are any means that will keep someone from rolling out of bed when we tack. Cozy. We leave a sleeping bag on these settees, and each crewmember has their own identifiable pillow case on a pillow...

Imagine yourself in the middle of a dark night, on deck with your watch mate, keeping the boat going, sails trimmed, checkin' the radar, snacking or getting a hot cup of something, watching whatever you can make out on the horizon...waking me up if there's any question. You steer the boat for an hour (or let the autopilot do it) and then your watch mate drives for an hour while you lay on the cockpit bench and rest before your next hour at the helm. At the end of each hour (or at least each watch) you go below to the nav station and record the time, our course and speed and location and any event worth mentioning (a buoy or landmark or traffic passed?). You're wearing all your warm gear and foul weather clothing, along with a lifejacket and a chest harness that clips into a safety line anchored on each side deck. You and your watch mate cover four hours, listening for the ship's clock ring every half hour. You get to the end of those four hours, the next watch comes on deck, you go below and you take off your life jacket and harness (hand them to the next watch) you take off your boots, collapse into a sea-berth wearing most of your "gear" - that way, if the people on deck call for help, you can get back on deck quickly. During the day, when you go off watch you have one chore to do each day - maybe cook breakfast or dinner or chamois the decks or sweep the interior. And nap when you can. Your job is to nap.

It's a strange kind of romance, isn't it? Risking nausea, sleep deprivation and who knows what else. To be "out there." To face the ever changing unkown, perhaps no more than you do on shore, but to do so with intent, in a more dynamic environment... It would be very different if we dropped anchor or tied up somewhere every evening and you could count on a good night's sleep. Which is what i think will happen after we get into the Sea of Cortez. I'll read and write more... Shall see.

Luego,

jon

Sailing "the Bay," thanks, and sailmail

Enjoyed a sail with Charlie, Dale, Sara, Kate and Will (Tritschler clan) and Julian (college friend) Sunday. Naturals at the helm. And great good fun companions. Thank you all for joining us. We hope you will encourage others to come for a sail too.

Of note, as we depart Sausalito, we send our appreciation to John Baier. Previously I've known him as the Grand Banks dealer for northern California. He is the man who had extra room at his sales dock here (for free!)...and a loaner car for us too. So now I know him as a generous soul, fellow sailing enthusiast and friend who helped us a lot. I hope to pay his hospitality back and forward. Thank you very much John! I'm sorry we didn't hang around to drink that wine together, but i hope you like it.

Yahoo! What a relief to get sailmail working. I can now access e-mail (and weather charts) from anywhere via my computer and single side band radio. After we get to Mexico,

write to us at our sailmail address. Keep in mind the connection is slow and the traffic is limited - so no attachments please. Just text. In fact, as i read their directions they really really stress every precaution to keep our address from getting "harvested" by "trawling" programs and then becoming totally jammed and made worthless by spam. They say to never post our address (i.e. here) but use it only for individual e-mails. They stress copying and pasting e-mails you want to pass along to us, NOT simply clicking on "forward" (which then sends the e-mail you received plus the copy of it you are sending...). Get the idea? It's a bandwidth constrained system that we should use only when we really want to get in touch (or the info is time sensitive and important). On the bright side, i guess this way another part of looking forward to a landfall will be picking up our e-mail via our gmail accounts when we get to shoreside internet access (i.e. a cafe').

"The list" and time to adjust...

A sure sign of civilization - sensitive rocks!

Saturday, "still" in Sausalito, a week now. I'm startin' to get "itchy," wantin' to get back out there and sail toward a horizon. What i came for...is more the porpoise that Tyler wrote about than working on "the list." I so appreciate reading his description of sailing. It makes much of something i've known for a long time seem new.

But reality includes many details. "The definition of cruising is working on your boat in exotic destinations." What does the list look like?

Fix the furnace; air out the sail inventory and forepeak (lube the storm jib hanks); replace a steering hub bolt; install the pipe berth (and look for a second pipe); repair the traveler; grocery shop; laundry; keep the boat clean; consider installing a topping lift to replace the vang strut (to support the boom when the sail is down); see if i can stop a leak in one hatch handle (called a "dog"); check the mast base where it goes thru the deck; shop for 3 brass, folding clothes hooks; see if i can calibrate the furnace thermostat (reads 5 degrees above temp); look ahead on the charts and the weather; get my computer to talk to the ssb radio; keep an eye out for whatever needs attention; this bulb; that lashing; update the list.

About the first half of the list is done. The rest may continually be a work in progress. The most important task is the computer and ssb radio hook up. Without this, e-mail and weather will become much more sporadic. So, today?...

Repairing the traveler popped up when Tyler noticed an eyebolt pulling out of the deck and badly bent. Yikes! Glad he found it before it failed underway. Dug out the decking that had caved under it and filled it with new, went to a nearby rigger, had to order the replacement, ordered two to be overnighted and replaced its sister on the other end of the traveler too. Again i am impressed at how tenuous our well being can be, hinging on many details.

We are looking forward to taking my cousin and family for a sail on the Bay tomorrow, along with one of Tyler's college roommates, Jules (who had us over for dinner earlier this week - thank you!). After that we think we'll anchor in Aquatic Park's basin on San Francisco's waterfront, and maybe Tuesday sail for Santa Cruz. Poke around there for a few days, and then sail on Saturday with our next crew - Cody and Lomo. Maybe visit Monterey Bay on our way to Oxnard in the LA area. There the list will include dropping of Lomo and going to the Mexican consulate to get their insurance and fishing licenses.

But both of us have commented to each other that we don't seem to be really present yet, "here and now." Are we having fun yet? Should we feel bad if the answer is sometimes "no?" What's this "should" stuff, anyway? Yes, we appreciate our luck to be sharing this experience, but it takes time to really switch to a new reality. It makes me realize how little chance most of us have to "arrive" at whatever destination we have (physical, emotional, intellectual and spiritual destinations), to leave our "rut" behind, when we only grab a long weekend here or a week or two vacation there. Some people are really agile and good at it, maybe even daily. But for most of us changing takes time. So. I promise myself not to worry about it, to trust each contour and coincidence as part of the process i seek.

By the way, i've changed the settings on this blog so "commenting" is easy to do. We'd love to hear back from y'all. All for now. Looks like another beautiful day. Thank you.

Love and hope,

jon

Tyler on the helm.

SHIPS LOG POST #3

Day 5 - October 8th, 2009

In the PM hours of the 4th, the swell and wind increase from their NWerly direction. With the wind and waves behind us, we are given an extra boost and hold on for something that feels a bit like a roller coaster ride. This is welcome indeed in the face of the thought of the opposite, of course, battling against such conditions. It is such that before the sun goes down a couple larger than normal waves give us that momentary free feeling of surfing in a 44 foot boat. Of course, it is a forced surf, with the boat wanting to break free, but inevitably dropping speed after the wave and surfing opportunity have passed underneath. And now we are in the trough, again. And, oh, now we are trying to surf.

By midnight the conditions have worsened, or improved, depending on which side you're on, and we are being chased by 8-10 foot swell and 30-35 knot winds. Of course, the waves look bigger in the dark, and they sound larger than they seem. Patchy clouds with brief moments of stars overtake us and tease us at their effortless passing low overhead. Very cool clouds. They don't have the ocean to get in their way. We, of course, do.

Throughout the night 3 or 4 rogue waves slither out of the night from the east and wallop the side of the boat. Then slither off again like a snake in the darkness. These rogues are heard more than they are seen in the night and its really just a feeling that tells you they've arrived. A sudden - hmm, do i hear someth...- WALLOP! And then they're gone, raging like a bundle of squirrels gone bananas, off into the dark. In the direction of Japan or Russia, westward like the Tazmanian Devil they go. Completely aloof. Oblivious to the wind and swell. What do the other waves think of this?

1100 (Oct.7)

Boat speed is 8-9 knots with occasional exciting moments around 10. It was the next morning in discussing our top speed Jon asked, "Did anyone break 10.5?" Heading is 135-140 degrees, but in these conditions it is only a general suggestion. Seas as mentioned before. Some gusts into 45 knots.

0145

In the face of building winds we wrap the genoa to a smaller size. This takes a fair amount of work on the winch, granted the wind. It is the second time tonight that we have reduced the sail size and Elena notes that, in the dark, it is beginning to resemble that of a handkerchief. At this rate, we estimate an arrival in Humboldt by 1pm.

0800

A cold dawn arrives with an overcast sky. The storm has passed now and wind and seas much calmer. We roll out the entire genoa once more from its handkerchief cousin. It is about this time that we are visited by a gang of porpoise. Unfortunately for the blog, they said no pictures could be taken of them. We gladly complied, knowing that the photos with our inadequate cameras would undoubtedly be of poor quality with little or no porpoise-looking objects in them.

The porpoise dance is truly beautiful, and raises the sailor's spirits to great heights, even after a long night. They are so agile and quick under water, jumping out of the ocean simultaneously 4 abreast, or following each other in quick succession, flashing their white bellies. Under the boat, in front of the bow. Head-on, last-minute near misses with each other. Jumping, stopping, switching direction and zooming off all in one effortless moment. As with almost all marine life that are capable of it, we observe the porpoise love to surf down the faces of large waves, following the swell of a moving wave and jumping out, into the trough ahead and or dipping underneath, jockeying for position like surfers. The porpoise truly is a magnificent creature. At one point from the helm I can look 100 yards to one side, then 100 yards to the opposite side and in both instances see porpoise airborne at top speed heading directly for the Akimbo. Deities of the sea come to play, and man, does the heart bound out to meet them in their leaps.

The full genoa.

1200

We arrive in eureka around noon. Our timing coincides with the slack tide, allowing us safe passage through the jetty and into Humboldt Bay. Confirming this on the radio with the Coast Guard, their radioman takes peculiar interest in us and our safety. We assure him our personal floatation devices will be faithfully displayed about our persons and that we are indeed a sailing yacht.

We tie up at Eureka Public Marina and eagerly make use of the laundry and shower facilities provided. Having been on the sea for some days now it becomes clear that land, and especially confined rooms, have a movement and sway I didn't realize they had until I had left them for some time.

In celebration, we toast some tequila that was gifted before our departure of Seattle. Careful, however, not to drink too much in light of our empty bellies and states of exhaustion. Indeed, this is the smallest amount I have seen Jack be able to drink. Having been in and out of sea-sickness, his belly was indeed empty and not suitable for large amounts of tequila. Jon comments that Jack's case was the first time he had seen the scapalomine patch placed behind the ear not work for sea-sickness. However, it became more clear when Jack said that he had found his patch not long before, clinging to his shirt, dependably dosing his fleece with the motion sickness drug.

We spend the evening in Arcata, eating pizza drinking beer and watching the Thursday night intramural soccer.

In the morning, Jack would fly home to Seattle from the airport and the remaining three crew members would continue south with Akimbo to San Francisco.

Look, no hands!

shelter from the storm

We are grateful for...too many things to list them all.

But yesterday it was weather reports especially, and man, they weren't kidding about the gusts! Even at the dock several boats here suffered damage - mostly to their canvas and bimini. I walked around the dock to help where i could and almost got blown off once. The wind in Akimbo's rigging was noisy, and she tugged hard at her lines all day. Otherwise the day was spent under a cozy blanket and reading. Being lazy. Maybe today i'll muster myself to start back in on boat projects.

And talk about grateful. For the people and experiences in our histories that we've paid attention to. We've enjoyed an occasional phone call with some of you. It feels (can't find the right word) very rich to be missed by you. I want to be sure you know that we miss you too, that the feeling is mutual. And yet here we are sailing over the horizon. I don't grok it yet. To miss you and yet not be lonely. Seems like it could stop us in our paths, which wouldn't be healthy. But it seems like an act of faith to carry each other in our hearts and to keep going. Curious.

I'm reading "Taking On The World" by Ellen MacArthur (Elena's copy - thank you). At 18 years old she was doing about what i am doing now, but solo. From there she found sponsorship, and at 24 she came in second in the Vendee Globe round the world, non-stop, single handed race. Good on her! As for me, from here? I'm looking forward to a cold beer in LaPaz...and more perspective on this life.

Sausalito is being good to us. Day before yesterday we walked all over the neighborhoods here, built on steep hillsides. So there are no straight streets, since they have to follow the contours of the hills, terraced, with lots of stairways between. The houses are quite unique, their use of space creative. Like us, they attempt to shape their environment and end up largely shaped by it. It was fun to meet strangers' eyes, to feel namaste', to see new things thru the bright air of a new place. And to bump into somebody i knew. Really. At a gallery exhibiting Dr. Seuss' art. Ah, the details. "Go figure."

More later. Lots o' love,

jon

SHIPS LOG POST #2

Day 3 - October 6th, 2009

0745

Motoring all night in calm seas. Waning moon is big and bright as it sets in the west. Jon wakes up for the 8am-Noon watch and says he's had it with the motor. So we put up the colorful drifter once again.

The winds are light, but enough to keep the drifter filled.

1000

We are 40 miles off the coast and crossing what would be the Columbia River and the WA-OR border if it could extend out below the sea. The drifter is still out, but the day is calm enough for Jack to work out on the deck.

1145

Course: 160 degrees. Speed: 5.3 knots

Latitude/Longitude: 46deg. 07 min. N 125deg. 12 min. W

Warm showers on the back deck for the entire crew, despite the freighter some miles to our stern heading south as well. Showers boost morale and cleanliness.

above: Blue skies, high cumulus and the drifter.

below: Seaman Seifert maintains his rigorous fitness schedule inspired by P90X 2: Offshore Supplement.

1350

Course: 166 degrees Speed: 5.0 knots

Lat/Lon: 45deg. 55min. N, 125deg. 13min. W

1700

Winds build throughout the day to 10-15 knots. Swell increases to 3-4 feet. At 5:15 the crew brings down the drifter in favor of the more conservative combo of a double reefed main and the smaller solant jib for night sailing. Low cumulous and a clear sky remain through the sunset.

1800

Premade Thai Chicken Curry dinner ala Jack. Yum!

Throughout the night, the weather remains relatively steady, with wind and swell out of the north. We set course at 190 degrees. In the night we spend 4 hours with a course of 120 and then back to the original 190. This variation maintains our comfortable distance offshore of appx. 40-50 miles.

below: Akimbo crew members enjoy some time on deck.

Day 4 - October 7th, 2009

By the morning, wind and sea have increased. Our course change to 150 degrees aims us right into Humboldt Bay and puts us more down wind. We bring the main down in favor of running the solant jib and the genoa wing and wing. "Just an experiment." says Jon. Its an experiment that seems worthwhile. 8.0 knots speed over ground at 1045 am.

1200

Increasing wind and seas, we take down the solant jib in favor of the genoa alone. This allows for more room in error of steering in relation to the wind. Port tack. Boat speed maintains a respectable 6-7 knots. Skies overcast. Seas with us, thank goodness. Swell more easterly now. Off the coast of Oregon, we estimate that we'll arrive in Humboldt Bay in a day and a half.

Day 4 Photos:

Elena at the helm.

Tyler and Elena from the bow.

From the bow #2.

Jon at the bow running wing and wing. Solant jib on the left, Genoa on the right. Main tucked away.

1815

Premade INDIAN Curry dinner tonight ala Jack again! Swell continues behind us. We are approximately 40 miles offshore. Overcast. Just a few small blue sky patches as the sun goes down. James Brown music on deck before nightfall. We remain with the genoa flying solo for the night. 135 degree heading now.

from Sausalito, Monday October 12

"Columbus Day?!" For us and Akimbo, is there something ironic about that?

What fun to wake up and read Tyler's postings here. I can't describe how rich it feels to be sharing this with him, how "bustin' at the seams" glad i am for his company here.

We sailed under the Golden Gate Bridge yesterday morning at 0900. Woo hoo! And then sailed around the Bay to see what our options might be for places to tie up. About noonish, i tho't of a yacht broker i know here that would be able to suggest something. Even better, he offered us space at his sales dock! We topped off our fuel, tied up, washed and cleaned the boat, and took showers. Elena reserved a flight out that evening, so she packed up and the three of us went out for a late lunch/early dinner before saying our goodbyes.

We know Elena from Tyler's year's at Seattle Waldorf School, where she and Dave sent their kids too. Elena and Dave discovered their enthusiasm for sailing in only the last few years. She has jumped into it whole hearted, sails at every opportunity (as crew from Alaska to Seattle, in French Polynesia...) and is now a Coast Guard licensed captain and teaches sailing at Wind Works Sailing School (where i was their first full time, licensed skipper in 1980-84). I mention all this only because her crewing is too good to not mention. She's the kind of crew that makes a skipper a better skipper. And she obviously enjoys being "out here" which helps the rest of us appreciate our own enjoyment too. Thank you Elena. Thanks to you this was a better start than it otherwise would have been.

Ty and i spent a quiet evening aboard. Him writing here, me re-stringing our new prayer flags (now flying along side the old string) - by the way, who's idea was all the glitter in/on the fabric paint? I think Akimbo will (unavoidably) sport glitter somewhere in her decor from here on out.

Pulling away from the fuel dock yesterday, i think i heard a new sound in the transmission. Hmmm. I doubt that could be good. So checking that out is on my list while we're here. Along with finding out how the air keeps getting into the fuel supply to the furnace - i keep having to bleed that and then the furnace runs only briefly. The rest of "the list" is minor. And part of it is writing to you about what it is like out there - what a key challenge sleep is, where we sleep, how we keep a watch schedule... And then there is listening to our Spanish lessons (thank you Wanda)...

Luego.

Love and hope,

jon

SHIPS LOG POST #1

actually, its not October 11th.

Day 1 - October 4th, 2009

1000

This morning a north wind blows and the sun is shining bright. The sky is blue with whispy clouds way up there. What a cool moment this is. We've been preparing for this for sometime now and no better way than to embark with wonderful fall Seattle weather. And wind!

We say goodbyes to the friends that have gathered at C dock. Their presence is a blessing for the ship and the crew. If there is one thing very clear, it's that they wish us well and wish us a safe journey...and we are loved. It is one of those moments where something is clearly happening. And it makes the crew onboard feel so good. Something very special about the goodbye. Among the gifts is a strand of prayer flags to mark the occasion. After photos and hugs Akimbo casts off. The small crowd follows the boat down the dock to the end of the fairway where we turn north and wave goodbye one last time before leaving Shilshole.

Friends gather to send Akimbo off.

Capt. Jon gets a hug from Zane.

Akimbo's crew for the first leg: (L to R) Jack Seifert, Tyler Howe, Jon Howe, Elena Leonard

Friends bid farewell from C dock.

(photos by Dave Leonard)

1400

There is much excitement onboard after the wonderful send off and the thought of what may come. The crew settles into the watch schedule and we spend the afternoon and evening beating against the north wind (a wind blowing from the north for us land people) in the familiar waters of Puget Sound. North we sail, past Carkeek Park, the Edmonds-Kingston ferry, Point No Point. Strong N winds continue through the afternoon, becoming lighter in the evening.

Akimbo heads north out of Shilshole below a seagull off Golden Gardens.

1900

The sun has gone down and that magic hour of low colorful light fills the sky. The full moon rises from the east. Akimbo leaves Port Townsend behind her and sails into the Straits of Juan de Fuca. The winds are getting lighter now, and the Straits are darn near glassy. As we head out, the Victoria Clipper approaches out of the sunset from Canadian waters on its evening run south to Seattle. The Clipper changes course so as to avoid Akimbo. As Jon usually does when he's on Puget Sound and the Victoria Clipper goes by, he makes a call to Jim Scancella, a long time sailing friend, who is the #1 skipper for the Clipper. Indeed it is Jim in the pilot house as the Clipper crosses Akimbo's bow. "Is that you crossing my bow?" is the first thing Jon says on the phone. Jim reports we show up very well on his radar. His farewell and the encounter with the clipper is a fitting farewell to the familiar waters of Puget Sound.

P.M.

Night time brings the full moon and no clouds. And very calm waters. Under sail in light winds Akimbo continues peacefully until the end of the midnight-0400 watch when a lack of wind forces the crew to kick on the engine. The bright full moon lights up the water and decks. The lights of coastal towns and city lumes on the horizon peer at us curiously from the land, and then fade away behind us in their orange city glow.

Day 2 sunrise in the Strait of Juan de Fuca with Jack Seifert at the helm.

A full moon sets on the morning of Day 2 over the NW tip of the Olympic Peninsula.

Day 2 - October 5th, 2009

0700

AM finds Akimbo approaching Neah Bay under motor. Swell increases as we pass Neah Bay and Tatoosh Island. We begin to feel the "motion of the ocean." Out into the deep blue Pacific, turning due south. As the day moves on, Vancouver Island fades away at the stern and the Washington coast drifts off the port side.

1500

Akimbo is visited by a Ruby Crowned Kinglet bird. Jack, with reception somehow still on his phone, puts in a call to Cinny to check the i.d. of the bird. Cinny confirms. This is not a bird known for sea voyages or even coastal waters but rather wooded thickets and land. Not one that would eat a fish like the few other birds we've seen this far from shore. The Kinglet lands on deck for some time, flies off, and chirps, then comes back and lands. The bird does this 3 or 4 times then circles the boat once and heads away toward the land.

Twice today the breeze picks up and we eagerly pull out the sails and cut the motor. Five minutes of light wind sailing gives way to sitting with the sails out in no wind and going nowhere. So we grit our teeth, put away the sails, and kick on the engine once more.

From the Pacific Ocean, we see a profile of the Olympic mountains backwards and a little mis-sized to that of the Seattle view we're used to. Unlike the Seattle view, we can see a little snow left on the highest peaks.

1830

We discover that the boom vang has broken. The boom vang supports the boom from underneath and connects to the mast near the deck. It broke due to a pivoting goose neck (joint where mast meets boom), which allows the boom to twist in relation to the mast. This has put tension on boom vang where it connects to the boom, and this has broken the joint. Jon and Jack jury rig the vang before the low sun sets and darkness comes. Elena and Tyler put together dinner down below. Dinner is eggs with mushrooms and veggies, potatoes, and salad.

2100

Still no wind. We motor through the night.

Day 2 photos:

Tyler on the bow with Tatoosh Island in the background, NW tip of the Olympic Peninsula.

Howe on the bow.

Jon navigates around the rigging in the strait.

Elena at the helm with Vancouver Island and the Olympic Peninsula to stern.

Looking south down the West Coast.

Jack relaxes on deck with the drifter above.

The drifter struggles to fill with air in light winds.

Red Crowned Kinglet onboard.

"I'll throw my love into the deep blue sea."

Day 2 sunset.

Elena on dinner prep.

Day 2 din din. Delicious!

Jon and Jack jury-rig the boom vang before dark.

Night approaches off the coast.

Jack uses the aft head as the moon rises in the east.