Graveyard of the Pacific? Puh-leeze!

Ahoy! I'm finally going to get away from the day-by-day style of posts because I can no longer keep track of the days even though it's only day 16 right now.


We sailed offshore! None of us on the boat had any offshore experience to begin this trip, but now we've all had a little taste. We left Victoria with our sights on Ilwaco back on Sunday the 11th I believe. We had checked the weather for the coast a lot while we were in Victoria, but failed to really care what the strait of Juan De Fuca was doing. As a result, we sat around in little to no wind for more than 24 hours until finally motoring out the strait to Cape Flattery where we finally raised sail and made a beeline southwest. In our 24 hours of minimal winds we did see some pretty cool stuff! Just before getting to Race Rocks past Victoria we came upon a large group of birds in the water and we headed right for them. Once there we noticed a ton of seals in the water! Video attached. Enjoy. Then in the evening that day we saw a ton of grey whales in the strait and it was nice because all the whale watching boats and tourist fun-hogs (my dad's new favorite term for any recreational boat that isn't under sail) weren't out anymore due to how late in the day it was getting. Because of this, we could actually hear them better than we've been able to before. As soon as they surface they exhale then inhale and it is loud! It really made you think about how large their lungs must be and how quickly they can empty and fill them. After that we were sailing into the night at were visited by a lot of porpoises. They were super curious or something and were coming really close to the boat but you could barely see them. Instead you could just see the ripples they made on the water and their loud breathing.

Seals and birds going crazy!

Our view of Tatoosh Island on the right and Cape Flattery - the northwestern most point of the contiguous United States!

Once through the strait is when the real fun began! We got to Cape Flattery around 1400 hours and had magnificent wind from about 14-17 knots that eventually died down come sundown. We stayed on that same heading until the morning after the 2nd night of the passage when we decided we better head back toward land since we were 55 miles off shore! We went so far because my dad believed there might be stronger currents out there to push us down the coast, but the jury is out on that one. I am glad we went that far though, because it made the nights extraordinary! We could only see horizon on every side of the boat and the moon was as bright as I've ever seen it. I almost wore sunglasses one night because our heading was toward the moon and it was blinding me. Then once the moon goes down the stars are spectacular! It reminded me of some of my nights spent on the beach when I lived in Chinook, WA.


During the 3rd night we were headed for the mouth of the Columbia and the wind picked up really nice right around 1900 hours. I slept horribly and woke up for my shift which was meant to begin at midnight around 2215 hours. This turned out to be a bad mistake. Since I was up and functional my dad went to sleep but eventually my mom woke him up so we could get the main sail double reefed as the wind started climbing up toward 20 knots. He woke up for that and stuck around and a long day began...
Based on our speed we were figuring that we would make it to the Columbia River bar around 0630. This was good, because 0500 was suppose to be a favorable tide time to hit it at. The downside was, I think we pushed the boat and our abilities a little bit by sailing hard to hit the Columbia as soon as we could for the best looking tide. We ended up running into some issues. First, the fisherman in Ilwaco are a strange breed. They have their green and red running lights on, but those are completely negated by their large and bright flood lights they have on deck, so all we can see are beacons of white light. Our AIS (kind of like radar) doesn't pick boats up quickly at some times, so that isn't always helpful, although when it does pick up a boat it can tell us what our closest point of approach will be, and what time that approach will take place. It's a pretty fun feature and often useful because it can be hard to tell sometimes how close you'll be. Anyways, we're sailing along and we're watching this bright light. It's hard to tell if it's getting closer but we're keeping an eye on it in anticipation of it getting close, and sure enough suddenly we can make out the green running light. Soon after that we can start to make out the boat and we were on a collision course. I had to quickly turn up wind to avoid it. All the while, that boat just kept on cruising past us without any change in course. So we chalk that up as just one weirdo. But no! About 45 minutes later we get another boat headed toward us, but luckily this one turned parallel to us, but then ran parallel and close to us for a good minute before turning away. Just weird stuff considering there's like 5 boats in total as far as the eye can see in each direction.

But the stress that came with those moments were nothing compared to once the sun came up. We got to about 25 miles outside of the Columbia bar and we could see what appeared to be fog up ahead. As long as it isn't too thick, no big deal. So we're sailing along and winds start gradually picking up and waves start getting large. That was no fog, it was a storm front. So we're about 15 miles from the entrance and we've got the main double reefed and we replace our genoa jib with a 75% jib. At this point wind is moving toward 25 knots sustained and waves are getting steep. We were going into the wind and the waves, so the boat is climbing up wave after wave and coming down hard with loud crashes as the water hits the boat between the two hulls. Inside the saloon, a bunch of our stuff on shelves is falling on the floor and things are banging together and gives the feeling of chaos.
So we're sailing on, but decide that conditions are too rough to cross the bar, so we try finding refuge just north of the north jetty, but to no avail. Waves and wind were still pounding us, and now we found ourselves straight downwind of the storm. We were still close to the jetty, so we thought to motor our way in. Sure it will be unpleasant going into the waves, but we'll certainly be moving slower and gusts of wind aren't going to put us in a bad position. So we're starting the engines and one won't start. Ugh. We tried to make it with one engine but we were drifting too hard and making very little progress. Now we have to sail again, and all the while in my head I'm just thinking hindsight we should have just sailed in to begin with, because now we've been screwing around for hours, all while getting thrashed, AND now we're downwind completely. I was a bit disheartened to say the least. Ready to throw in the towel and try going north into Willapa Bay until things died down. But, my dad stayed focused and we sailed out into the wind to make our way to the entrance. At one point my dad asked if I was ready to tack and I basically asked that we just keep going and wait for things to die down. He let me get a little weak, but then after about 5 minutes told me "Alright, I'm turning," so I helped with the turn and got my mind right to stay goal oriented and get through the mess we were in! We ended up pulling past the north end of the jetty probably 30 minutes later and flew past a big coast guard boat and went in front of a dredger. We didn't care all that much at this point. Once through the jetty conditions calmed and we got sails down and navigated to a guest dock in the Port of Ilwaco around noon. About 4-5 hours later than we could have. I thought being on land was going to feel better, but I was drained. Remember that part where I said I didn't sleep well? Yeah, I was running on an hour and a half of sleep, but completely wired with adrenaline.

There were times while out in the storm (I use the term 'storm' loosely. There were plenty of fishing boats out and there were no bar restrictions or anything. I'm just not as salty as these Ilwacko's) that I told myself that I was packing up as soon as we got to Ilwaco. I was definitely scared out there, but I learned a lot, and I think a lot of my reluctance to continue on with the journey stemmed from fatigue. Without sounding like too much of a spoiled child, this is one of the most challenging things I've ever done. Being on a homemade boat with a crew that is largely inexperienced makes it easy to get a little scared. That combined with sea conditions I've never experienced and it's no surprise that I struggled. But, now that I made it through that I'm more confident in the boat and my own abilities than I was before. This boat took a beating but stayed in great shape aside from the engine trouble, and I was at the helm for much of the storm and remained focused and alert and steered her into the waves in the safest manner I could. I'm also getting to trust my dad as the captain more, and am understanding his strengths and weaknesses better. This is useful because it helps me know when my input might be valid, or when I should just hold my tongue. For instance, pretty much any decision making while under sail I should leave to him - he knows what to do and when to do it. But, if he needs to make a decision and his only facts are what he can see out in the distance, then I'm chiming in because the LASIK surgery I got has me seeing things like a cyborg relative to him at times.

Anyways, now we're in Ilwaco! We've got to troubleshoot our engine and get it working again, as well as complete a laundry list of other less but still important things. I had a great time hanging with my old buddies Nick and Tiffany yesterday, and today I've enjoyed lunch with my Grandma and Dwayne. In just a couple minutes I'll be reunited with my girlfriend, Tawnie, and I'm super excited! It's been months since I've seen her!

After a few days here we'll start looking at weather reports for the coast and jumping out of Washington. Our initial plan was to jump all the way to San Francisco, but there has been talk amongst the crew of stopping more frequently, with our first stop possibly Newport Beach. I'll throw up another blog post before we leave to tell you how every minute of Tawnie and my visit go, as well as where we're headed next on the boat. (May or may not be kidding about the former. I've yet to decide.).

#latepost. Crew selfie in Victoria.