SV Yohelah

We were blessed by the weather Gods for our last sail of this cruise. Friday’s return to Shilshole from Port Townsend was downwind in 15 knots, on a beautiful sunny Seattle summer day. It was nice to see many of the great spots in Puget Sound and be reminded of what we have come home to. This is the last posting for this blog, so I’ll wrap it up with some metrics. Here is our Pacific Loop By The Numbers:

15 – Countries Sailed To
17 – Countries Visited

203 – Times We Moved The Boat
176 – Unique Anchorages

30,493 – Miles Traveled

5,170 – Longest Passage Miles
42 – Longest Passage Days

6 – Number Of Passages Over 1,000 Miles

2,369 – Pictures Uploaded To Our Photo Gallery On www.SVYohelah.com

23 – Number Of Places Seen In Book 1,000 Places To See Before You Die

1,595 – Days Start To Finish

538 Nights On Anchor
189 Nights On Passage

As has been mentioned many times in this blog, one of the things we enjoy most about cruising is the opportunity to learn something new every day. What was the most important thing we learned in the last 1,595 days? I think it was that we do love cruising and want to do more, but we also need to take a break once in a while. We have traveled hard since leaving Ecuador in November ‘08, racking up over 20,000 of those miles in the last 20 months. So for now we’ll stay home for a bit and keep up the website with information about the boat. Then when the time is right we’ll start another blog and head south again for our next adventure on Yohelah. Until then, thanks everyone for sailing along with us. It has been so much fun.

Teresa, Rob & Maya

I guess I should say sixth and final week.

The last week of this was boring as we’ve sailed south east towards the Straits of Juan de Fuca. Winds were variable but mostly good and the passage fine. After the North Pacific High formed that new center right in front of us we had two days of very slow travel. The high then moved south with the center going slightly below 40*N. This was good for us since we never went further north that 51* to clear the high.

Off British Columbia on Sunday night I popped out into the cockpit and saw stars for the first time since we left Japan. Seriously, we’ve been in fog and clouds for six weeks. Tuesday morning was the first sunrise I’ve seen in the same time. Amazing we have to get close to Washington to get clear skies, not exactly what this part of the world is known for.

After 42 days, 5200 miles, and too many tuna casseroles to count we made landfall at Neah Bay on August 10th. As Teresa mentioned, we had a foul current off south Vancouver Island and decided to stop in Neah Bay when it became clear Port Angeles wouldn’t happen until the middle of the night.

Our route took us down the coast of Vancouver Island. We were once again thankful for AIS as we were passed by numerous freighters and spent the last night dodging fishing boats. All three of us were happy to be stopped.

I realized the other day that on this passage I’ve become cat furniture. It started over a month ago while we were sailing through those lows and cold fronts. The cabin temp was getting down into the mid-fifties at night and even Maya with her cheap fur coat was getting cold. She started sleeping with me, preferring to sleep between my legs. It was cold enough I felt sorry for her and let her sleep there, accepting the limitations and moving less to not bother the cat. Teresa thinks this was my training. Now if I’m sitting around the settee and it’s close to bed time Maya will come find me and sit on my lap, or anywhere else convenient for her. And the other day I was sitting on the edge of the seat talking to Teresa when Maya sat behind me and started pushing on by back; I think she was re-arranging her furniture to go to bed.

Neah Bay offered new sights and sounds for Maya. She has never been around sea gulls before, at least not the kind we have here with their loud cries. The sea lions in the marina and sounds of an eagle were foreign. She spent most of the evening staring out her open window, alternately leaning forward to go out, then ducking down as a new sight or sound appeared. At dark she finally found the courage to go out on deck and spent a few hours outside before retreating to her bed (yes, HER bed) for the night.

Our stop in Port Angeles was nice since we were able to visit with US Customs for a while and catch up with Dave and Rhonda on SV Swan after their 48 day sail from the Marshall Islands to Port Angeles. I actually managed to sleep through the night, after 42 days of sleeping in 3 hour chunks it’s hard not to wake up 2 or 3 times a night.

Today on Yohelah we are officially checked in and slowly motoring in the fog toward Port Townsend, glad to be back.

Rob

no-footer

Miles traveled day 42: 92
Miles traveled total : 5,170

It wasn’t what I’d call a glorious ending to a 30,000+ mile journey. The fog was heavy through the night and the outgoing current from Puget Sound turned against us in the middle of Rob’s 2:00 – 5:00 am watch (his last 2:00 watch for a while, we’re both happy to know). The boat slowed to 2.5 knots and stayed at that speed all through the morning, putting a daylight arrival at Port Angeles out of reach. We finally motored into Neah Bay about 2:00 yesterday afternoon, ending a very long 5,170 mile passage. Our intended first meal out at a steakhouse with a big piece of prime rib and salad ended up being in the only cafe in Neah Bay, eating an overcooked cheeseburger. But the boat was stopped and we were tied to a dock.

This morning we got up early to continue on to Port Angeles, and again we’re out in the Strait making only 2.7 knots. If we hadn’t motored into Neah Bay yesterday at 5 knots and confirmed we could make better time, I would swear we had either caught something we were dragging underwater, or the bottom of the boat and prop were so barnacle laden they were slowing us down. We do have an amazing amount of gooseneck barnacles along the waterline near the bow and stern. And when I lifted the paddle for the windvane out of the water yesterday it was even covered with gooseneck barnacles. We’ll get the dink down and get into the water and clean them off before we leave for Port Townsend tomorrow. It’s not exactly as enjoyable as hopping in the warm water of Fatu Hiva in the Marquesas after that long passage to do the cleaning, but if we don’t, they’ll cement themselves to the boat and be much more difficult to remove.

As we neared the coast yesterday and Tatoosh Island became visible through the fog, I suddenly realized that it was ok to be coming home for a while. Up to that point I hadn’t been able to muster much enthusiasm to give up the incredible adventure of cruising and return to the working world. Suddenly, though, a warm feeling of familiarity and comfort sort of washed over me (sounds kind of flaky, but really it happened that way) as I remembered crisp fall mornings on anchor in the Pacific Northwest. Sadly it’s the middle of August, during the summer that’s not happening here, but it was good to feel like it was ok to be home again.

Teresa

Miles traveled day 41: 127
Miles traveled total : 5,078
Miles to Port Angeles: 137

We have read and heard many accounts from northwest based cruisers who said that in all their years of cruising, the worst weather they saw was off the northwest coastline. Well we know now those folks didn’t go to Japan. But up until Japan that was true for us as well. When we left Ucluelet mid-August four years ago, we had 30-35 knots of wind and 20 foot seas off the Oregon coast. Our forecasts for the approach to the Strait this week have consistently said 10-15 knots (even the doom and gloom 96 hour one said that), and the latest weatherfax we had even said 0-10.

Yesterday afternoon we decided to tuck a reef back in the main when the gusts started approaching 20 knots. Last night when I came on watch at 11:00 and the gusts were hitting 27 we rolled up the jib. We’ve been sailing since then, as we did down the Oregon coast four years ago, with a reefed main alone, at 5-6 knots.

This morning I’m downloading weatherfaxes that show the current sea state, and they say 10-15 knots here off Vancouver Island. Why is it that I keep looking up and see my anemometer display 27? I know it’s not broken. I’ve finally found another sea state analysis that thinks it may be up to 20, and the spot forecast says 18 knots here. Good news is, the spot forecasts for closer to the Strait predict lighter winds as we approach.

Now it’s nearly midnight, and indeed the wind did die. We have 2.5 knots of true wind, so we’re motoring in the fog once again. We’re off Barkley Sound, which is a favorite vacation spot of years past, but tonight we’ll just motor on by. We should be on the dock in Port Angeles early tomorrow evening.

Teresa

Miles traveled day 40: 113
Miles traveled total : 4,945
Miles to Port Angeles: 268

With only 268 miles to landfall, it’s time to start thinking about this being not only the end of our passage, but the end of a marvelous 4 year cruise. And at the end of this all, we’re both very thankful for many things.

First of all, we’re thankful that we got to go cruising a little bit while we are relatively young. We didn’t get to leave and cruise long term like I wanted to, but we certainly got a good taste of it. Good enough, in fact, to know will be back out again as soon as possible.

We’re thankful for the support of family and friends back home, who were always there on the other end of an email, helping out in so many ways. In particular, thanks to Leslie, Tony, Jeffrey, Teresa (T2), Eric, Peter, and BZ. And having the support of vendors back home has made a tremendous difference many times when we needed technical assistance that wasn’t available locally. Special thanks go to our sailmaker Carol Hasse, rigger Brion Toss, Yanmar mechanic Mark at Auxiliary Engine, and radio guy Marty Kirk at Rogers Marine.

We’ve been pleasantly surprised to discover how many people have been sailing along with us via our website and blog. We have loved hearing from people who have taken time to read our blog and join us on this adventure. Thanks to all of you.

And a huge thanks to the volunteer members of the Pacific Seafarer’s Net, who have been there every single night taking our checkin and making sure we’re still afloat and where we’re supposed to be. It’s made a big difference to us knowing you’ll be there, and to our family back home who watch our progress as you send in our daily reports.

At this particular moment, however, I’m most thankful that I only have to get up two more nights on this long passage. And I’m especially happy to see the skies clearing and the sun coming out. We’re sailing down the west coast of Vancouver Island, but no matter how much I work at focusing the binoculars, I’m going to have to admit soon that I won’t be able to say “land ho” for another couple of days as we parallel the coastline 100 miles offshore.

Teresa

Miles traveled day 38: 136
Miles traveled total : 4,720
Miles to Port Angeles: 489

This morning we finally rounded the apex of the high, into the northwest winds that blow down the coast along the eastern edge. Those winds were lighter than expected, though, and when we downloaded a spot forecast we learned that they would likely stay in the 8-10 knot range all day. The wind had rotated from southwest through west and into the northwest, and we were now sailing too far to the south with our sails set wing on wing. We jibed the main over as soon as we finished up our breakfast and coffee, but the seas were still running high, and with each wave we rolled and collapsed the jib and main. Besides making a horrible racket, our speed over ground was down to 3.3 knots, and with landfall so close, that was not an acceptable situation.

Since the winds were still behind us, it was time to get the spinnaker out. As the sock rose up and the sail filled, our speed instantly increased to 5.5 knots. And as the apparent wind moved forward we were able to adjust our course directly toward the opening of the Strait. Perfect. We both noticed a massive front of ugly looking black clouds behind us before we set the sail, but knew they would blow by far off to starboard. We sailed several hours with the spinnaker today, making 5-6 knots over ground. I thought about our friends from the Tannowa Yacht Club in Osaka Bay, and how cool they thought it was to be able to set a spinnaker and leave it up for days at a time, which we have done in the past on previous passages, and thought we would be doing today.

As I was preparing dinner this afternoon the wind started to pipe up and gusted up well over 15 knots a few times. Any time we have the spinnaker up and start making over 6.5 knots, both of us begin thinking it’s time to douse it. Just as I was about to light off the burners on the stove, the wind went from 13 to 22 knots in less than a minute, and stayed there. We instantly grabbed our harnesses and ran outside, Rob heading to the foredeck and I to the primary winch in the cockpit. Fifteen minutes later the spinnaker was in the aft cabin and the jib was out again on the starboard side.

We both noticed how cold it had become as we were working on deck, and realized this must be the cold front that we saw on the weather faxes this morning from a low far north of us. Now, eight hours later, we still have wind in the mid teens and don’t know what happened to the forecasted 8-10 knots. We got a little rain out of the front, but it seems to have mostly passed by. Hopefully it’ll warm back up tomorrow at daybreak. Maybe we’ll even get a little sun again like we had a couple of days ago.

We’re now 250 miles from the coast of Vancouver Island and sailing over a bunch of seamounts, where I expect to start finding fishing boats. In addition, we’re guessing there must have been a Vic/Maui race this year, because on the Pacific Seafarer’s Net there are many more boats than usual sailing from Hawaii to Canada. Both of these factors will keep us busy on watch as we close the coastline in the next couple of days.

It looks like we should be in Port Angeles on Tuesday. Can it really be that we have only two more nights on passage? We all sure hope so.

Teresa

Miles traveled days 34-37: 440
Miles traveled total : 4,584
Miles to Port Angeles: 621

We’ve finally shaken loose from the grips of the high that formed right in front of us two days ago. Just when we thought we could lay a rhumb line right into the Strait of Juan de Fuca, we were becalmed. The first night we knew we still had enough fuel onboard to motor for three full days and nights, so we turned on the engine. After about 18 hours the wind picked up enough to keep the sails full, so we sailed very slowly through the day yesterday. Last night on my late night watch when the anemometer began spinning circles and our speed over ground dropped to less than one knot, I rolled the jib and turned the engine on once again. Happily, though, this last run was very short lived. This morning when I got up at 5:00 the wind was up and the jib came back out, hopefully for the last time.

Right not we’ve got about 17 knots off our aft starboard quarter, and we’re making 6.5 knots directly towards home. This is good. And the forecasts all say that we’re going to continue getting wind between 15 and 20 knots all the way home. This is exactly what we’ve been waiting for, and what you get in the low latitude tradewinds that we’ve missed for the last 37 days up here in the North Pacific.

Our lesson this week concerned our SSB and GPS. When we left Japan we were in an area where few boats travel, which meant there was not a sailmail station within reasonable propagation range. Our connect times quickly reached the limit and we began to receive warnings from the Hawaii station that we were using too much server time. We emailed the owners of the system, who happen to live in lovely Friday Harbor, and they understood our location and the propagation challenges and kindly reset our time. They also looked at the server logs and noted that our transmit times seemed longer than expected. We downloaded their troubleshooting guide and quickly discovered that a setting in our software that controls the power of our radio was set far too low. So we turned up the power and viola, the time required to send emails instantly reduced by two thirds.

Coincidentally (or not), we started losing reception from our GPS every time we sent email. Then we would look at the chart plotter and see a big spike in our track, which is the line that shows where we’ve been. Finally one day when we had a very slow day of sailing, checked our mileage for that day and saw 148 miles, we knew something wacky was going on. Rob the detective quickly put all the pieces together. Our GPS antenna is mounted on the back rail of the cockpit, right next to the backstay (the wire leading aft that holds the mast up). Like most cruising boats, the backstay also happens to be our SSB antenna. So when we send email or talk on the radio, the RF (radio frequency) energy goes right up the backstay. Yesterday Rob hooked up our spare GPS antenna at the pedestal and now our emails go fast and we don’t lose our GPS signal to the chartplotter anymore.

Right now that plotter tells us that if we can maintain 6 knots, we’ll be tied up to a dock in Port Angeles four days from now. I can’t begin to express how marvelous that feels. Funny thing is, this hasn’t been a horrible passage, but we’ve received quite a few emails recently from friends who are sympathizing with us for having such a dreadful time. Really? Were our postings that bad? The only real thing this passage has been is LONG. Very long. OK, those two gales right out the gate sucked, but since then it’s just been long and tedious. Rob says that it’s been tough because we’ve never been able (until maybe today) to relax and say, “ok, now the weather’s settled and we can just sail”. We’ve had to watch the weather closely this entire passage, and in the end still don’t know how much we did or didn’t learn.

Today on Yohelah it’s time to start getting ready for a very welcome landfall…

Teresa

The fifth week started with us becalmed. When we checked the surface analysis we were stuck between two very weak low pressure centers – who knew you could get becalmed between lows? Because they were so small and weak and our spot forecast reported wind soon, we started to motor when we lost steerage. Losing steerage is the time we check the weather and fuel to see if motoring makes sense – when the wind dies completely the waves stick around for a while, leaving us rolling around while we drift. Not very comfortable and pretty noisy. Fortunately we have used little fuel and can afford the occasional motor-sail.

The wind since has been variable. Predominately from the south, we’ve been able to make good time along our preferred course. And of course today, the end of our fifth week, we are becalmed again. Not unexpectedly. We are directly above the center of the North Pacific High. Since we need to make a couple of degrees east to get out of it we are once again motor-sailing, more motor than sail. Certainly by the time we get to 140W we should have good wind.

Today was the first sunny day we’ve had since leaving Japan. It’s peeked out for an hour or less a couple of times but today we actually had sun all afternoon. The temp in the boat this evening is still 70, warmest it’s been in a long time. The solar controller is claiming a whopping 116 amp hours of charging today; normally not great but for this passage we’ll take it.

On the 1st of August the Seattle based ‘Swan’ with Dave and Rhonda aboard reported the 43rd day of their voyage from Majuro, Republic of Marshall Islands to Seattle. They were almost to the Dateline when we left Japan and we’ve been slowly gaining, we are now 600 miles behind them after starting at a deficit of over 2000 miles. They should make landfall in the next day or two. They started at the edge of the North Pacific High and sailed around it, finding themselves becalmed many days. As you know, we’ve been dodging lows the whole time, I sometimes feel like the Peanuts character “Pigpen” except ours isn’t a dust cloud, its our own personal low pressure system. Dave actually told us on the PacSea net one day they were waiting to see our sails on the horizon; I wish – to pass them we would eventually have to sail in the same weather and Yohelah simply isn’t fast enough to make up the miles.

We met them in Majuro during our stopover there. Very nice folks. Like a lot of cruisers they decided to go light on the amenities aboard, no refrigeration or water maker or energy consuming appliances. This makes the electrical burden so much lighter that the boat can carry much less charging equipment. Dave spends a lot less time and money working on his boat than I do working on mine. However, the biggest issue on a passage like this is water. We’ve had very few water-catching opportunities and it’s probably similar on Swan. We cruised in Panama with a Canadian boat who used salt water for nearly everything and reckoned they went through 50 gallons of fresh water every two months. While it’s doable, my hat is off to Dave and Rhonda for a tough light air voyage. Bet that first shower ashore will feel good.

We are at our last ‘hill’ – the top of the North Pacific High. We were all set to sail right over the top of it until it formed another high pressure center dead ahead of us. It should move south over the next couple of days, giving us light but sail-able winds. Another 200 miles east and we’ll be on the downhill side of things with north winds and an east-southeasterly course. Swan is there now and reported 25+ knots of wind yesterday, 15 knots today. Looking forward to it.

Today on Yohelah it’s the end of day 35 with less than 800 miles to Port Angeles and we are getting the diesel heater ready…

Rob

Miles traveled days 31-33: 420
Miles traveled total : 4,110
Miles to Port Angeles: 1,033

When we wrote down our daily mileage reading this morning we still had over a thousand miles to go, so we’ve both been watching the plotter today waiting for it to tick down to triple digits. It finally did just before my first off watch nap, and now it says 979 miles to go! For some reason this milestone feels huge to both of us. Our friend Greg, who we said goodbye to in Palau last May, sails a Tayana 37 and tells us that the closer he gets to landfall the slower he seems to go and the longer the journey. For us it’s just the opposite, and now that we’re over 3/4 done it feels like we’ll be home in no time.

Not that we wouldn’t like to slow down and enjoy this last passage for now, but sailing in light air in a very dense fog doesn’t really lend itself to moments of bliss. We’re well into the North Pacific high right now and really expected to find sunshine. Nope. Still dense fog – I could see about 3 boatlengths away all day long today. The barometer shows 1025MB of pressure, with the center of the high reported as 1033MB, so we’re pretty close.

We’re east of both Kodiak and Hawaii now at 50 degrees north, looking straight at the north end of Vancouver Island. As we sail across the top of the North Pacific high, the winds will rotate clockwise (northern hemisphere, high pressure, clockwise rotation) and we’ll have a northwesterly breeze pushing us right down into the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Or at least that’s the plan.

The 3 day spot forecasts we’re getting say that we’ll continue for now to have light southerlies in the mid to low teens, as we sail past the western edge of the center of the high. This light breeze gives us enough wind on the beam to move along at about 5 knots. It’s a nice quiet sail, which we’re all happy to have after the boisterous beginning to this passage. We’re at 149 degrees west, having sailed over 75 degrees of longitude so far on this passage. Rob realized today that we’ll sail over a fourth of the way around the planet on this single passage (103 of 360 degrees) by the time we get to Elliott Bay.

Not much is happening onboard these days. Tomorrow if it remains quiet and calm like it has been we’re going to throw out some lures and try for some fresh tuna. Canned tuna may be something we don’t eat again for a very long time. The days are long and boring, as we watch the degrees of longitude slowly decrease and the barometer slowly rise.

Teresa

Miles traveled days 29&30: 220
Miles traveled total : 3,690
Miles to Port Angeles: 1,404

The wind did not turn to the south as forecast on Wednesday – instead it remained a light easterly long enough for us to get frustrated and finally give in and turn on the diesel. We motored for about 12 hours before the low approaching us from the southwest finally got close enough for the wind to build and blow from the south. Yesterday we had nearly 0 wind and today we had 23 knots. It was supposed to remain in the 20 knot range for at least 18 hours, but it’s already eased back to the mid teens and the barometer has started to rise again. We’re in the unfortunate situation now where the wind has eased but the seas have not yet laid down, making it a very rolly night and tough sleeping for the off watch.

Around 10:00 I woke up to the sound of something large thunking against the hull. On a dark and rainy night in the middle of the Pacific where the water is about 45 degrees, this is not a good thing. Rob went out on deck to inspect, thinking the only possible answer could be a line with a buoy or something attached snagged on our bobstay (the wire that attaches the bowsprit to the front of the boat). A search outside revealed nothing unusual, so we began to inspect indoors. The sound was clearly something hitting the undersides of the boat below the waterline, making us both certain we had to figure out what it was. After opening several lockers and listening carefully we pulled up the floorboards and found our spare alternator rolling back and forth. It had been nicely sitting alongside the fuel tanks since Rob put in the new alternator in Campbell River, Canada, some 4+ years and nearly 30,000 miles ago. Why tonight it came loose and started rolling around I have no idea.

We’re both beginning to get very excited about making landfall. When the wind was up and we were making over 6 knots the chartplotter said we’d be in by the 8th. Rob thinks it’ll be closer to the 10th. Either way, it should definitely be under 2 weeks now.

Tonight on Yohelah we’re glad that there are no more things going bump in the night.

Teresa