Peaks and Valleys (warning: chilling images)

February 22, 2011, 10:00 a.m.

   While every month has its peaks and valleys, our February was one huge valley punctuated at the end by a great snowy peak and its attending flurry of activity, which is why our February post has been delayed until mid-March. Alas.
The Valley Floor
   February’s plan entailed getting L’Esprit home to Anacortes from Seattle's Lake Union by the 11th at the latest. After all, March’s first two weekends offered us heavy-duty obligations that required our undivided attention: a wedding in Richfield, North Carolina, and a yacht-club cruise for which we were on the planning committee. Because we had a new boat, we were part of the scheduled entertainment. The pressure was on! 
   We felt confident, however. The boat yard Pacific Coast Yacht Services had dispatched our work list by the end of January, as they’d promised. (The Ocean Alexander people had warned us: “If Paul Sittaur says he’ll get the job done by a certain time, he will.” They were right!) They’d given our girl a new bottom, rudders, windows, and electrical inverter, among other things (boats!). All that needed doing was for the engine guy to change hoses and fill fluids, and generally get things up to speed. It shouldn’t have taken more than a week; Davy planned to live aboard L'Esprit for the duration.
   Alas.
   Those of you who own boats know what probably happened, and you’re right. The engine guy, who shall at this time remain nameless, couldn’t come for a week, and then when he did come, could only come on Monday, and then maybe on Friday, and so on. Therefore what should have been a one-week job sprawled into three-week stint where Davy came home only on the weekends to break up the monotony of subsisting on sardines, saltines and beer for lunch; saloon food at Nickerson Street Saloon (with its bi-weekly rotating menu) and Hale’s Ales (which had really good pizza when they had pizza); and God-knows-what for breakfast. 
   Fortunately, L’Esprit came equipped with built-in heaters (very PNW) and a super-comfy bed. Instead of putting things in the fridge, which would require defrosting every week or so, Davy set his beer and creamer outside on the sundeck. Despite the freezing night temperatures, nothing exploded.
   What was I doing this whole time? Sitting at my desk, editing my new novel, Finding Geneva, or whatever I’m going to end up calling it. Four friends had volunteered to read it, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself too recklessly.
The Foothills 
   By Friday, February 18, the engine guy still hadn’t concluded his work, which, when completed, would require another sea trial to make sure things were done properly. Shoot, we could have just relaxed and said, “Well, lah dee dah, however long it takes. . .” Except: we had to leave in two weeks for the North Carolina wedding, we had to vacate the moorage el pronto because other boats required service, and ugly weather loomed on the horizon.
   I have no idea what Davy said to the engine guy, but he finally figured out that efficiency would be most appreciated! So he got L’Esprit done on Monday, and they took her out on her sea trial in the snow on Tuesday.

The snow of Tuesday, Feb. 22, came strong and fast. Six inches in three hours!

The Peak


Leaving the Ballard Locks. Worse weather ahead!

  Seattle was spared the snowy pile-on that showered Anacortes (the snow pictures were taken in Anacortes at ten on Tuesday morning). Thus our new, big obstacle to bringing L’Esprit home centered around my inability to drive the crew to Seattle without sliding off the road or getting stuck in snow traffic. Locals reminded me of the convenience owning a four-wheel drive provides, but even if we owned one, Davy would have had it down in Seattle.    Maybe, I thought, the snow will melt by Wednesday.
   Alas, it continued snowing on Wednesday, so there was no way I could drive Walt Barnard and Carl Bergan down to Seattle. Thursday through Saturday, however, showed a promising snow-free weather window. Fine, I thought. Thursday the wind will blow its crazy heart out, the snow will melt, and Friday I drive the guys to Seattle. L’Esprit will be home in Anchor Cove Marina on February 26th! Ta dum!

Bottom: Frozen dock line.

   Except the snow didn’t melt because the temperature stood firm at or below twenty-five degrees. In fact, it wouldn’t melt for another week!
   Left choiceless, I rose at 00:Dark:Early Friday morning; shoveled our long, steep driveway; backed Isadora out the garage; got her nose pointed straight down the driveway; pressed my foot on the brake; and slid down the driveway to the street, which had been plowed the previous afternoon. Isadora's tires crunched over fat ice chunks left by the plow. From there Isadora wiggled and wobbled to Carl’s, Walts, and the grocery store in Burlington, and headed south the Seattle, where not a trace of snow existed!
   There’s a reason why not much boating happens during the PNW’s winters: it blows like stink. And that’s exactly what the boys brought L’Esprit home in. Six-foot seas (which is a bigger adventure in a power boat than in a sailboat). Air temperature in the 20s. Wind-chill factor: ooooh, brrrr, cold.
   They made it through the Ballard Locks, past Everett, as far up as Oak Harbor, on Whidbey Island, which is a twenty-minute drive from our house. Thank you, Carl and Walt!!
   Penny Barnard picked Linda and me up late that afternoon and drove us all down to Oak Harbor where we met the guys for a deluxe kiss-the-ground and thank-the-crew feast at Fraser’s. It was one of those evenings where great memories and friendships are forged even tighter. 

Top: The sun came out!
Bottom: Our driveway. 

    It was then expected that the boys would cruise into Anchor Cove Marina by Saturday noon, before Sunday’s snow storm hit.
   Unlike our engine guy, Sunday’s snow came through early. While it snowed on Saturday, at least it was not a deluge. Cozy in my house, I awaited Davy’s call.
   Except when he called, he didn’t say, “We’re home!” Nope, he said, “You gotta drive down. We need a car.”
   I looked outside at the lightly falling snow, and realized I had no choice but to drive the fifteen miles to Oak Harbor.
   It turned out a bolt in the alternator had sheered off, and the guys needed to go to NAPA Auto Parts to get a machinist to tool another bolt, which would take a while to accomplish. Good thing I brought my Kindle, because there’s only so long I can tolerate auto-part-store scents and the dearth of really cool products (I love all the inventions found in hardware stores, however!). By the time we finished our Dairy Queen lunch, the machinist had worked his magic, and the snow was coming down harder. After successfully whining and howling about my not wanting to drive home alone through the snowy forest, we all drove back to Anacortes. Hopefully Sunday would be a better day.

Left: Leaving for Seattle to pick up our van. Middle: Anchor Cove Marina.
Right: L'Esprit snug in Skyline Marina.

   Indeed, Sunday was good, even though it started out snowy. Because none of the guys could persuade their wives to drive the crew to Oak Harbor and back home in the snow (smart girls!!), David and I checked the Internet and discovered that I-5 road conditions were just fine for us to drive down to Seattle to pick up our van. By the time we got back to Anacortes, the sun was out, and the island roads seemed clearer. Penny drove the boys to the boat, and by three, they’d brought her into Anchor Cove Marina in strong winds and currents, but didn’t crash into anything. Thank you, Walt Barnard!

L to R: Davy, Carl Bergan, Linda Page,
Penny Barnard, Joanne,
Walt Barnard.

   When I got to the boat, Davy expressed his qualms about Anchor Cove, which, lovely as its covered moorage was, would cause us extreme problems until we learned to maneuver L’Esprit in PNW’s wind and currents (more on these later). Besides, I couldn’t even get on the boat from the dock, since the finger was too short.
   Which is why, two days later on Tuesday, March 1, we acquired a year-long lease at Skyline Marina, which is closer to the islands, but is not covered. We worked like crazy to fill L'Esprit with pots and pans and bedding, because on Friday we’d be gone to North Carolina, and by the following Thursday we’d be off on Fidalgo Yacht Club’s March cruise. Eek!
PNW Waters
   While we really haven’t ventured out into local waters yet, our ears and imaginations have been filled with sea stories, real and current. First, we’ve been told to watch out for nuclear submarine wakes because they create cliffs in the water. Evidently a crew bringing an Ocean Alexander up from Portland discovered this the hard way. Their little forty-foot freefall destroyed the boat they were delivering.

   Then we were strongly warned why we’re supposed to wait for slack tides instead of just plowing through the rapids and whirlpools between the islands. Apparently some whirlpools are so clearly defined that people have been known to see the rocks on the seabed thirty feet below because centrifugal force has driven the water aside. One guy watched the dinghy he trailed behind his boat sink into the hole and then pop out, landing squarely in front of his boat.

   Suspicious as I am, I’m choosing to believe these stories rather than check snopes.com.

Top: Davy, Dana and
Michael. Bottom: Jamie
and Treece Barrington.

The Richfield Jog

   We made it to North Carolina as part of the West Coast Wilshin contingent for cousin Jamie Harris’s wedding to Treece Barrington in Richfield. Davy’s daughter Dana and her husband Michael Springs also came; the wedding served as the first leg of their weeklong Southern tour.

   We had to leave our house on Fidalgo Island at three a.m. to get to the airport in time. By the time we arrived at our motel in Albemarle, it was nine p.m. We ate at the local Applebee’s and got in a short visit with Dana and Michael before she headed off to Jamie’s bachelorette party. 
   The wedding was a delight, including the country singers who were part of the ceremony. The reception was in an old mining town, Gold Hill. As usual, we had a tom-terrific time with the cousins!!

   The next morning, we headed to Charlotte to see if we could book an earlier flight. We failed, but in our failure we were gifted with first-class seats.

Other Things (a final peak)
   I'm going to wait with the yacht club cruise for the real March blog entry, for that was interesting in itself.

   Instead, I want to include some little tidbits that I've absorbed along the way.

   First, I forgot to include the cake you see the bottom of this blog entry and its meaning in the January blog. The cake was made by fellow yachtie Ellen Kaiser, who loves to make desserts, but hates to make meals. (The cake is filled with fruit and nuts!) The event for which she made this cake was rather extemporaneous. She'd been cleaning out her garage and discovered a cache of brown paper lunch bags. Instead of throwing them out, she glued an invitation on the bag and mailed it to a group of her friends who included other yachties, quilters, readers, and rowers. (Hopefully I remembered all her tribes.) The invitation said something like: "Bring your own lunch. I'll provide dessert and drinks." When the invitation arrived, I was immediately jealous I hadn't thought of this first. But I got over it and had one heck of a good time!

   I also make a weekly trip to Coupeville on Whidbey Island. It's amazing how many times I spot a unique, hilarious bumper sticker on those trips. Enjoy. 

   The third picture on the left I took in a grocery store. The bagger had the most beautiful headband, which, she explained, her mother had made by applying peacock feathers to felt, which she then attached to the headband. I figured someone I know will make good use of this idea!

   The last picture was taken sometime during the period when the snow wouldn't melt. On my hike down to the mail box, I noticed half a dozen robins pecking at the gravel on the road, much like a parakeet eating gravel he hopefully finds at the bottom of his cage. I'd never seen this before, but I'm used to it now! 

Katie Harris minding her rose petals.
Ellen Kaiser's bring-your-own-lunch cake.