No time for Kombucha

We spent last night at Echo Bay, a small marina with several float homes and a tiny elementary school where children in the surrounding area are transported not by school bus, but by school boat. In the summer months, the friendly harbor attracts everything from kayakers to 100’+ powerboats, including one rumored to be piloted by Jimmy Patterson.  Yesterday, it might have been the site of a classic sailboat show, with a dozen beautiful boats that had been sailed everywhere from the tropics to Newfoundland. During our short tenure at Echo Bay, we were hands-down the loudest, the stinkiest, and the most obtrusive presence on the docks. Two little people can make quite a scene. Fortunately many of the other boaters were of the grandparently type or young and free enough to feel happily unencumbered when they saw our reigning chaos.

A fellow biologist, also heading with her partner to Alaska, kindly gave me starter for brewing Kombucha tea. The instructions she provided were simple, but by step 3 (hold in a secure location in a large glass jar), it was obvious that its preparation could pose a problem on our boat for two reasons: 1) it takes time, which I have precious little of at the moment; 2) it requires that no one put their hands in the jar, spill its contents, or send it flying across the galley to break into a hundred shards. However, I needn’t have worried about the technicalities. We hadn’t even made it through breakfast clean-up before the Kombucha starter was no more. Pat saw a Tupperware full of what looked like the same sort of slime that accompanied our usual messes (somewhere on the spectrum of dirty diapers, pre-chewed food, and spoiled milk) and chucked it overboard. He didn’t bother asking what it might be, as the answer seemed obvious: something the kids produced, and something we didn’t want in our lives. No Kombucha for this crew. 

Yesterday, more than usual, I needed a long, solo run. (Actually, I needed a quiet cup of coffee, a few hours to work, and a long, solo run, but one out of three isn’t bad). To stretch our legs and burn off recent boat confinement, Pat and I took turns exploring the trails around the cove. These turned out to be largely overgrown, so calling this running was perhaps a stretch, but at least it involved sweating in the woods with no one hollering nearby. 

Despite the persistent high volume and high energy state of Chaika, she has taken us to some very serene places in the Broughton Islands. We’ve been tide pooling, rock hopping, rowing, and fishing in forested coves and along white shell midden beaches. After a number of days of this, we’ve established a fairly standard shore routine. As soon as we land, Huxley sets off up the steepest rock or into the thickest patch of forest while Dawson grins, attempts to follow his brother, and then quickly asks about a “Nack” (snack). Olives, freeze-dried peas, and dehydrated cherries are among the current repertoire of favorites. For us, each day offers new sights. For the boys, each day delivers a brand new world. They are not only rolling with the changes, they are rollicking, somersaulting, back-flipping, and generally loving life in the way that only kids can do.

Tonight we’re anchored at a quiet cove on Eden Island, where we were greeted by red-throated loons, great blue herons, and marbled murrelets. We will wake up tomorrow with an eager and noisy crew, ready for whatever adventure finds us.

Huxley the climber. 

Dawson ready for a snack. 

Fishing off the docks at Echo Bay. 

Family hike. 

Trail “running” on Gilford Island. 

Giving it a good college try.

Name that knot. Or ask Huxley. 

Sailing Johnstone Strait. 

Deckhands

While Pat and I are distracted by other tasks—steering the boat, hoisting sails, attempting to keep this hungry crew fed—Huxley and Dawson are busy making their own contributions to our northward progress. Everywhere, there is evidence of their work. Go to pull the staysail line and you might find a series of meticulously tied knots. Close the companionway hatch and down come a waterfall of clothespins. Look for a life jacket in the on-deck sleeve and instead encounter a collection of shovels. It’s not an easy job for these boys to continuously rearrange our attempts at order. In fact, each time we insist that the boots don’t go in the sink or the knots can’t be tied in every available on-deck line, there is usually severe protest. We are clearly messing up their systems. It’s a wonder they keep us at all. 

After several indulgent summer days on Hornsby Island, reveling in hot weather and swimming, the winds switched and we continued our passage north. We’re now most of the way through Johnstone Strait, which is known for its orca whales and strong northwesterlies in summer.  Currents in this area are impressive, in some places exceeding 14 knots. This means that getting our timing wrong is not an option as many of the narrows have rapids and whirlpools if attempting to transit at their peak flow. We went through Seymour Narrows and Current Passage yesterday without any trouble, and managed to sail most of the day with decent southeast winds. The wind switched abruptly in the evening, suddenly gusting hard from the northwest. We took down the sails, pounded into the waves for an hour and a half, and tucked into Port Neville on the eastern side of Johnstone. This time, I was wise enough to insist that we all get on deck as Chaika started to rock, well before the funny taste appeared in anyone’s mouth.

We also recently passed some of our old “cruising grounds,” where we had our first sailing adventure, of a very different nature than the current one. Fourteen years ago, we took a 27’ sailboat (Sirocco) up Bute Inlet to climb Mt. Waddington from the coast. This summer, such a plan seems like something from a different life entirely, though it’s hard to imagine that more than a decade has gone by.

The forecast is for more northwesterlies, so we’ll probably spend a few days exploring the surrounding area, including the Broughton Archipelago. We’ve been fortunate to find decent hiking and running options along the way, for Pat and me to nurse our sanity and maintain some semblance of fitness (beyond hoisting 30- and 40-lb boys over the lifelines). However, as we head north into wilder areas, with fewer trails and more cougars and bears to keep an eye out for, we will need to find more creative solutions. Packrafting, beach combing, and push-ups may be in our future.

Summertime fun.

Our sometimes cautious child has taken to the sailing life with gusto!

Dinghy exploration of a “secret” cove.

Lots of bald eagles, great blue herons, and belted kingfishers in the Gulf Islands.

Scenic trail running on Hornsby Island.

Swimmers!

One of Huxley’s main birthday requests: climb the mast!

Father’s Day sunset.

All seriousness on this boat.

Canopy views.

Where old growth still stands, it is the land of big trees.

Seasickness, shovels, and birthday cake

...fortunately not all at the same time. Yesterday brought our first day of big following seas in the Strait of Georgia. We were downwind sailing and all seemed well until things got just a little too rough for comfort. Chaika of course didn’t mind, but when Huxley said he had a funny taste in his mouth we knew it was time to pull in some sails. Turned out to be too late and breakfast ended up all over the galley floor. Dawson followed suit as soon as I had finished cleaning up the first mess. Once they went on deck and we resigned to easing the rocking with some motor assistance, everyone felt much better. I’m not sure what lesson we learned exactly, except that we all have our limits, and kids don’t necessarily know how to tell us when they are nearing theirs. This was the first sign of seasickness we’d seen. It was also a reminder that “all hands on deck” comes in a very reduced form for us, meaning that one person needs to be able to manage just about everything single-handedly.

Today we celebrated Huxley’s 4th birthday at a sandy beach on Hornsby Island. We had gorgeous sunshine for tidepooling and digging. Shovels continue to be one of our primary modes of entertainment, and, despite the fact that they are identical except in color, a source of incredible sibling strife. Red vs. yellow is apparently worth fighting for, and fighting hard.

Back on Chaika, we used the galley oven for the first time to bake a birthday cake. The 350 degree setting ramped up to 500 and the store-bought frosting was so sweet it made my teeth hurt, but the cake was deemed a success by the guest of honor. He had also requested kale salad and because we are now well-stocked on fresh produce after our stop in Nanaimo, we each had our serving of kale to offset the sugar. 

It continues to amaze me just how much time and energy it takes to keep an almost-2-year-old and newly-4-year-old occupied, happy, and safe on a sailboat. I have all the more respect for families who have forged this path ahead of us. It’s an odd mix of endless time and no time at all. I imagined I would have at least an hour or two a day to read and write, and instead we find ourselves squeezing in basic tasks late in the evening, between washing a pile of dishes, familiarizing ourselves with boat systems, checking weather and charts, and, yes, dealing with dirty diapers. It’s largely a matter of adjusting expectations, but it’s hard to know what falls in the realm of reasonable when reasoning is not always a toddler’s strong suit. (Or mine, for that matter, when it comes to having a screaming match over who is going to climb out of the dinghy first.) The strong north winds that brought in the sunshine are likely to stick around, so we’ll have a chance to see how it feels to be at one anchor for multiple days. The boys will no doubt wake up ready for another adventure tomorrow, none the wiser about weather, schedules, or anyone’s plans but their own!

Dawson finding his sea legs.

Fun at anchor.

Huxley recovering from a bout of seasickness.

Digging for sand dollars.

Hiking with a color-coordinated shovel.

Cool sandstone features along this island’s shore.

The makings of a sailor.

Happy birthday!

The basics

Daily life on the sailboat spans the gamut from amazing to completely ordinary. We are in the Gulf Islands enjoying the early days of summer, which means catching crabs (so far only tiny ones that have crawled onto our toes), hiking through madrone forests, and watching seals, otters, and orca whales. Besides sailing and shore excursions, we are never far from the basics. As it does on most days, in most places, our schedule revolves largely around three things: eat, sleep, poop. The eating occurs in impressive abundance given that two of our crew are still under the age of 4. They are hungry boys indeed. The sleeping happens after a lot of wrestling in the V-berth, where Dawson behaves like a wound-up toddler in a padded playpen. This is essentially the nature of their beds so it’s easy to understand the confusion. Little brother is now relegated to some quiet time on the galley floor while big brother goes to sleep. The pooping happens in equal abundance as the eating, and only partially in the toilet (namely, Dawson). This means a lot of hand sanitizer, compostable diaper inserts, and opening of portholes. But, mostly, having all four of us crammed into a small space is a gift. We are together in a way that happens only rarely amongst the bustle of work, school, friends, and errands. Our attention is diverted, no doubt, by figuring out a new boat, remembering how to sail, and keeping one eye on the weather and waves, but the boys have us, and we have each other, always at arm’s reach (except for those occasional hours when Pat or I escape for a run or a little alone time on shore). Huge thanks to Will and Joan Miller for shepherding Chaika to us in such good condition, and for filling the boat with love and care. We will do our best to continue the tradition.

Chaika at anchor in James Bay, Prevost Island.

 “Fishing” off the dock on Wallace Island.

The captain takes his job seriously.

The clown attempting to escape his confines.

Our dinghy, christened “Marshsmallow” by Huxley.

Launch

We’re off! After a final few days of preparations and dealing with an unexplained case of hives in our almost-2-yr-old, we’ve launched from Bellingham Bay under sunny skies and fair winds. 

Preparations

We're in Bellingham getting Chaika and all of our gear ready for the journey north. The boys are excited to be on the boat!

Setting Sail

Launching soon! In summer of 2018 Caroline, Pat, and their two young children will be heading north from Washington to Alaska in a 32’ sailboat. Stay tuned for updates!