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Subj: Still Stucco Dear Chubby Fans, As you might have noticed, it's Thursday afternoon and I've been stuck in Ilwaco since Monday morning. Since my sailing hobby is currently on hold, I decided to try a new one, so I rummaged around amongst the flotsam and jetsom of Chubby's cabin, searching for inspiration and stumbled across an old pair of running shoes, not yet rotted to the state of disutility. Donning the old shoes and a crumpled pair of shorts, I decided to take up running, a sport which is not dependent on the sea state which since Monday has been unrelentingly violent. So I ran out of town heading for the Point Disappointment Lighthouse which was purported to afford a view of the Columbia River bar. After 3-1/2 miles of pleasant jogging on the lighthouse road through the magnificent woods, I came to the top of the bluff which remained hidden until the crest of the bluff was reached. If I had any breath left, it would have been taken by the view. The entire complex of bars and jetties, sqaure miles of 15-20 foot breaking seas on the Columbia River bar and the expanse of the Pacific stretching off to the west. It was a daunting sight. Six Coastguardsmen were manning the lookout station at the base of the lighthouse. I struck up a conversation with the officer in charge, and we chatted a bit about the bar conditions. The breakers were running up to 25' high during the ebb but now on the flood were down to a mere 17'. The next storm was due in Saturday which would not leave enough time for the sea to calm down enough for a small boat to leave the river mouth. He was thinking that next Tuesday would be the earliest that high pressure might return and calm the seas down a bit. He mentioned that during the height of the previous night's gale, the offshore buoy had reported waves of 37'. He was a surf boat instructor at the Coast Guard surf boat school located at the base of the bluff. There were 5 forty-four foot CG surfboats in the surf zone below us, plowing straight through the 15 to 17 foot breakers as part of their heavy weather and surf rescue training. We discussed my exit strategy a bit more and the woman Coast Guardsman differed with the strategy of her commanding officer, saying that I should start out just at the end of the ebb and cross the bar at slack water just before the flood gains momentum. There was some merit to what she said, because if I got in trouble, I could ride the building flood back into the harbor whereas if I was riding the end of the flood, I would be faced with a building ebb if I had problems and that would suck me right out into the danger zone. I liked her more conservative approach. But how did I get into this situation in the first place? Well it all started back in Neah Bay the previous Thursday. After arriving that night at the Makah Marina and reuniting with Chubby, I got a liesurely start on Friday because the ebb wasn't scheduled to start up until about 10:30 am. I had a good night's sleep, got up, walked into the village and did the grocery shopping, had breakfast, all the time hoping that the dense fog would lift enough for me to take off. I didn't feel comfortable leaving with less than 1/2 mile visibility because of the heavy shipping in the Straits of Juan de Fuca and because of the treacherous rocks surrounding Cape Flattery. All through breakfast at the cafe overlooking the dock, I kept gazing in the direction of the harbor entrance hoping to see something, but visibility remained nil, perhaps a few hundred yards at best. As I walked slowly back to the boat, the fog lifted off the water a few tens of feet and the island forming the west side of the Neah Bay entrance began to show. That was enough for me. I hurried the last few yards down the dock, got aboard and suited up for a long, cold wet day and night. In 15 minutes we were on our way, heading out of Neah Bay and turning west at the entrance buoy, heading for Cape Flattery and open ocean. There are three ways to round Cape Flattery heading south. One can take the conservative and longest approach and go to the north and outside all obstacles before turning south. There's the fair weather route which passes south of the outermost reefs and rocks and north of Tatoosh Island, the large island lying just off the mainland peninsula of Cape Flattery. This route saves a few miles but is recommended only during calm, clear weather. Then there's Hole-in-the-Wall. Hole-in-the-Wall is a narrow pass between Tatoosh Island and the rocks and reefs jutting out from the mainland. This pass which is only perhaps 300 yards wide is begrudgingly acknowledged in the cruising guides but is never recommended. Chubby and I, after considering the exceptionally calm conditions and the better than zero visibility decided that we would take the latter course. Whoops...times up at the library. That was a quick hour but I'll continue tomorrow. Love...Bill |
