We whiled away the night under a perfect blanket of stars and talked of the ocean and adventures past. Eventually it was time for Norris and the dogs to return home. With promises to keep in touch, Norris zoomed off through the dark anchorage calling out “YeeeHaaa!!!” from his Big Red Zodiac.
We had every intention to depart Port Angeles with the early flood tide on Saturday, July 1. At the 4am alarm, we were barely conscious of thinking awwww, we’re so sleepy…just a few more hours. We left five hours later, give or take, and that was the day we learned to truly respect the tides […]
The wind was ripping down the Strait of Juan de Fuca at 30 plus knots, like it usually does in the late afternoon. Susanna and I had Bluewater parked at the fuel dock in the small boat harbor waiting for a few fishing boats to leave the guest dock for Ketchikan, Alaska, thus making space […]
It seemed that the storm we were trying to outrun was like trying to outrun Nisa, not possible. And the storm would not just be a happy dog when it passed over us and ran out ahead into the strait.
My world was reduced to the screen of the chart plotter, switching between the radar and chart views every few minutes. The rain came first, then the wind, but it didn’t matter, we were headed toward calmer waters at our best and most comfortable speed.