From Russia with Love

I know I've tried to describe what life on the boat is like when we have strong winds and big waves. When I'm laying on the floor of the cabin (Meryl is in the comfy lee berth right next to me)rolling from side to side, with pillows trying to cushion anything hard my limbs may smash into, I start thinking of analogies. I come up with some great analogies while laying there, but can never remember them when it's time to write. My current thought is of those huge rotating barrels at the state fair that you try to walk through. Now try to make dinner, or tie a complicated knot, or even type for that matter. You get the idea.

It's been so rough out that at night the on-watch person tends to spend more time sheltering down below. I had started out in the cockpit the night before, dressed in my only warm tights and top, when a huge wave crashed over the boat and completely drenched me. Since I had on my expensive life jacket with all the "man overboard" electronics in the pockets, I immediately headed for the fresh water shower and slowly took off my clothes as I rinsed them. I then had to take all the electronics out of the life jacket, rinse and dry them before the salt water ate them for lunch.

In a catamaran you sit high above the water in your overstuffed captain's chair with a cup of tea in your hand, looking through a glass window with a windshield wiper. Since you are sitting high up, you can actually see a little bit ahead of the boat. It's very civilized.

On a mono hull you are essentially sitting at water level (staring up at the 10-foot waves towering over you), squinting through faded vinyl windshield that is hard to see through on a nice sunny day, and looking at solid spray hitting anything (like a face) at 22 knots that dares poke around the protection of the dodger. At times I can't see the front of the boat, other times are better.

Having not seen a single boat (outside of the two cats we departed Maupiti with and are now God knows where)for the last three days, you begin to realize how "out in the middle of absolutely nowhere" you really are. So I began to wonder, why even keep watch at all? It's dangerous out in the cockpit, it's cold, it's wet, and most important, it's very scary at times as you hear the big waves rising up behind you, totally unseen until they crush you.

With these thoughts in mind, at 2:00 am in the morning (things always happen at 2:00 am on boats) my 20-minute alarm on the iPhone alerted me to check the navigation display for any vessels showing up on the AIS transponder system, and to do a 360 scan of the horizon for any boat lights. If you're concerned about running into a semi submerged shipping container a'la Robert Redford or maybe a pod of sleeping whales, forget about it.

So having struggled hand over hand to the nav station on the other side of the boat, I stood sleepily staring at the muted screen and then was awoken in one terrifying moment. A 619-foot cargo ship was on a collision course with us. Holy Batman! At certain magnifications on the screen Russia can look like it's your next door neighbor (don't ever say this if you are running for Vice President) and I soon realized as I expanded the zoom that the ship was 18 nautical miles away (but still on a collision course). Given the 1,000 of miles of empty ocean surrounding us how did the only two ships in hundreds of miles manage to steer directly at each other? Gotta wonder.

Since I was under sail downwind, to change my course I would mean having to gybe the boat, no easy task with a 8-man racing crew in these conditions but quite a task with a tired 70-year-old grandpa. I immediately got on the radio and tried to hail the ship. He was probably as surprised to hear his ship name called out of the electronic din. I could hear a very scratchy foreign voice asking who we were and where we were. He had no idea there was another ship within three hundred miles of him! Quickly waking up my brain started to function and I realized that since he was a large commercial ship, he was required to have a very powerful Class A AIS transponder. This transmits his name, position, speed, course, type of ship, and most important, does all the math to see if our two respective vessels are going to crash into each other (which unfortunately, the math said "yes you are"). That's why I could see him but he couldn't see me with my weaker Class B AIS. I tried to get him to turn to starboard but since he couldn't even see me he was a little reluctant. I could understand about every sixth word through the static but we agreed to contact each other as we got closer.

I started running though all our options and decided to roll in our reefed genoa because if I had to crash gybe that sail had to be out of the way first. Meryl, on her rest break, wasn't happy about leaving her comfy berth but we got everything squared away and discussed what we would do if we had to gybe the main (put on life jackets, go out on side deck with waves crashing about, undo preventer line from boom, reattached lines from end of boom (normally attached to the preventer) back to the boom so they didn't rip off the bimini top solar panels when we gybed, then reattach everything back together without falling off the boat.

Now back in the cabin I could hear the Ocean Venture better on the radio. Even though I had every light on the boat turned on, including my radar, he only saw me when he was about 4 - 5 miles away. I could barely see his 619 feet of steel on my radar, I can't image what my 44 foot low slung fiberglass boat looked like with all the rain and waves towering about us. He did pick up my AIS signature but could not visually see a tiny white dot from the bridge of his ship. With that all out of the way we decided he would alter course 10 degrees to starboard so we pass port to port with a CPA (closest point of approach) of about one mile. I could just now barely make out his lights. Thank God he was only going 8 knots versus the typical 20 knots of the big container ships.

With things squared away and our lives spared, we began a 30 minute long chit chat about life at sea. He was from Russia, Vladivostok but grew up on Shalikin Island (if you are a true Cold War fan you'll know why no Westerners ever got close to this military area. He told me his ship was on route from Russia to Chile to pick up cargo. We chatted about the various systems (especially navigation)on board each of our ships, the extensive training he went through to become a captain, and then personal subjects such as our ages, families, etc. His English was excellent which made the conversation possible. When he asked me my feelings on Russia, Putin, the Ukraine, the U.S. and Trump I very diplomatically said I wish we could all get along better. I'm sure he could have talked all night long but I was beyond tired and needed to get some sleep. We said good bye and (another misspelled Russian word) dosvedanya to each other.

Just another average night on Flying Cloud out in the middle of the vast Pacific Ocean.

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Sailing in the Wild, Wild West

We had planned on leaving Maupiti on Wednesday when the strong 20-knot southerly winds where supposed to come in, but we were fearful we wouldn't be able to make it out the pass with those southerlies slamming into the narrow opening. We were right. Stepping up our schedule we got the last coat of varnish on the cap rails on Monday, got up early on Tuesday to buy some fresh baguettes (they didn't bake that morning following the Monday holiday)and get supplies for the family we'd stay with on Palmerston Island.

We figured all day Tuesday should be good, but when we approached the pass it was like a Colorado River rapids on a bad day. Large surfing type waves were breaking on both right and left sides of the narrow pass and the outgoing current (hitting the incoming 20-knot winds) stirred up a witch's caldron of frothy water. We were committed at this point and aimed for a narrow opening between the two surf breaks. We immediately got launched straight up in the air on a 12-foot wave, only to be slammed down on the other side before the next 12 footer sent us skyward again. If the engine failed at this point we'd be up on the reef in less than two minutes . . . way too close for comfort. We shot through the gap and were out in the open ocean, but now confronting a steady stream of of six- to eight-foot waves. We breathed a huge sigh of relief, but felt sorry for the boats that didn't leave because they will be stuck in the lagoon for the next week.

We hadn't been open ocean sailing for over six months and the learning curve was apparent. I was up on the fore deck trying to get some lines untangled from our bimini top solar panels when a big wave threw me sideways into the bimini leaving a nice rip in the already thin fabric. We managed to get the main up with a double reef and unfurled our big genoa to it's second reefing point. Even with that little sail up, we were soon sailing at 7 to 8 knots, with occasional surfing to 10.3 knots, not bad for a big, overweight cruising boat.

Life on board is a challenge. Sitting in the cockpit we'd occasionally get dumped by a big wave running up the side of the boat and the 20-knot wind blowing it into the cockpit. That meant having to rinse ourselves and the cushions with fresh water several times a day. Life down below was chaotic since just trying to move from point A to point B was like balancing your self on a log rolling contest. Any mistake in balance meant a body part slamming hard in to something equally hard.

We both got seasick going through the pass while trying to get things squared away; Meryl worse than me since she's down below while I steer. Her entire diet for the day was one soda cracker. And we'd both forgotten to take our seasick pills before leaving the lagoon which didn't help.

We're slowly getting use to the washing machine rolling of the boat and the huge "thumps" of big waves slamming against the hull. We're on a broad reach right now which is why the waves are slamming us, but will hopefully go to an easier broad reach later tonight with the waves more behind us. The good news is our planned five and one-half day trip will now be about three and one-half days, with us arriving in Palmerston sometime Friday morning. We did sail over 180 miles in the last 24 hours, so that's a record for the boat.

Think of us when you go to the stove to get the tea kettle off the boil and picture the stove bouncing up and down, you getting thrown sideways (with a kettle of boiling hot water) and no place to set the cup to pour the water in. Maybe we'll stick to soda crackers tonight.

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A Day in Maupiti

Near the community dock the locals all gathered waiting for boats transporting freight and guests from the airport located on a nearby motu. This enterprising woman had a great selection of baguette sandwiches and quiche to sell.

We weren't in the best shape so we had to walk the only hill on the 10-mile trip around Maupiti.

This is typical of the views we encountered during our trip around Maupiti.

It seems like most people on Maupiti use either bicycles or motor scooters for transportation.

We stopped at an older woman's art studio along the way. She specialized in necklaces made of local shells. Here we perused a jar full of black pearls.

A Blessed Morning in Maupiti

Dawn comes quickly in the tropics and we were up early for Sunday church. Arriving bright and early at the large Protestant Church we luckily met the minister as he peddled his bike into the fore court and found out that the Protestants met at 10:00 am, but he did say the Catholics down the road meet at 9:00 am.

I knew I was going to enjoy our stay on Maupiti once I saw this sign during our walk.

Well, it was a nice morning for a walk so we headed south along the small two-lane road seeing an occasional motor scooter or walker. Maupiti is far off the beaten path and gets few tourists, so everyone we met would great us with I'orana, the traditional Tahitian greeting. Some French is spoken here, but nothing like the other French Polynesian islands.

The gas station and fishing pier seem to be the hub of social activity on Maupiti.

We continued down to the island's only gas station at the fishing pier, nestled under a massive rock cliff face that dominates the Maupiti skyline. We watched a dive boat getting ready to depart and several local fishermen out for a busman's holiday of offshore fishing. There was very light wind today, and even at 8:30 am it was starting to get hot.

This truck stopped along the way and picked up boys for the church service.

We doubled back on the road watching a pick-up truck with four young boys, all in white shirt and ties, heading off to a church service (Mormon's?) and saw increased foot and bike traffic as other locals began to head off to their respective churches.

The Catholic Church made us feel very welcome as various members stopped to shake our hands or give us the traditional French kiss on the cheeks. 

South Pacific cultures are very family oriented with kids going from a mother to auntie to uncle during a church service.

We arrived at the Catholic Church, a very small rose-colored building with louvered windows along one side. We entered and sat in the rear pews and watched as other parishioners arrived. The women, dressed in very colorful Polynesian print "Mother Hubbard" dresses with small straw hats festooned with tropical flowers, all greeted each other with the French style, two-cheek kiss. One young 12-year-old girl literally kissed everyone in the church, now numbering around twenty people, including Meryl and I, which was very touching.

A female priest dressed in white came up and greeted us and welcomed us to the church. She had a copied paper of the morning's service, including the songs that were mostly in Tahitian. We tried following along but Tahitian is a tough language to fake your singing. While the congregation was small they made up for it with beautiful, melodic singing. I don't think we'll ever have a church service to match the one we attended in Hapatoni in the Marquesas, but it was still a lovely service.

We left a bit early and headed down the road to the much larger Protestant church located on the water's edge. The wall outside the pink structure was lined with bikes and motor scooters, and a large number of people lingered outside waiting for the service to begin. Since it was getting hotter, we opted to go inside the church early and find a seat on the right side of the church. We felt we were at a wedding where one side was more populated that the other, then figured out the other side had windows opening to the sea breeze and was therefore cooler.

The same minister who originally greeted us came down and invited us to sit in the front row, but we said we'd like to see the people and take pictures, which was fine with him. Meryl and I were both raised Protestant, so we had a little higher comfort level for understanding the service.

As the church bells clanged the church began to fill up. Designed to hold up to two hundred people, we estimated about 100 people were in attendance, predominately older women and some men, but also some younger women and lots of kids. Again, the church was a phantasmagoria of brightly colored dresses, flowered hats, and other decorative flowers.

The service began with a children's choir sitting in the front rows and numbering around 40 kids singing several traditional songs in Tahitian, interspersed with an older woman (minister?) who read from the Bible. At times the congregation broke out into songs, with different groups of women taking the lead and others harmonizing along. The volume at which these women sing is amazing, along with the clarity and harmonizing of their voices.

Next our friend in the beautiful purple Polynesian shirt came to the pulpit and spoke in English, addressing Meryl and I and welcoming us to his church. He also explained a little about the sermon he was about to give. We felt so special and blessed to be accepted by this community of people in this very remote part of the Pacific Ocean.

This little guy was captivated by the two white people sitting behind him.

Since we couldn't understand any of the Tahitian sermon or songs, our main entertainment was a captivating 2-year-old boy sitting two pews in front of us. Bedecked in new matching Tahitian print shirt and shorts, he was sandwiched between his mother and grandmother and spent the entire service facing the rear of the church and checking out people. He was obviously fascinated by us, especially Meryl's blonde hair. Down at the end of the row was a similar aged young girl, with fresh plumerias in her hair, teased the little boy with sideway glances. Had he not been anchored by the two women, I'm sure he would have run down the pew to meet a new playmate. As is common in Polynesian churches, the children freely roam from mother to auntie to father. This little girl made sure her circuit included passing right behind the pew with the little boy who was bemused by her behavior. This is a very small island, you wonder if we returned in twenty years if these two were in love and about to be married in the same church. You never know.

The little girl seemed bent on teasing all the boys while this little boy showed off his new paper airplane to us.

Around the end of the service the majority of the children entered back into the church from their Sunday School classes and went to various mothers, fathers, aunties, etc. One little four-year-old boy sat right in front of us, speaking in Tahitian and (I think) telling us about the two paper boats (bateaux) that he had built in Sunday School. He was quite animated about the boat going up and down huge waves, and I imagine he understood the conditions faced by the fisherman when they tried to negotiate the pass in rough weather.

After the service we slowly motored our way back to our boat thinking about what a very special place Maupiti is and wishing we had more time to stay and get to know the people and enjoy this very special island.

An E-Ticket Ride to Maupiti

We awoke at 5:00 am this morning after a restless night worrying about the voyage ahead. We were going to sail to the rarely visited island of Maupiti, about 27 miles northwest of Bora Bora. There is a reason Maupiti is rarely visited - its entrance. As I mentioned in an earlier blog, you read other sailor's articles about the pass to Maupiti and you develop a healthy respect for the risks involved. "Pass Onoiau has a poor reputation because in rough condition it is hazardous to enter and numerous vessels have come to grief here." Huge breaking surf guards the east and west sides of the pass and the outgoing current can reach up to 9 knots. This pass should only be attempted in ideal conditions. And so on.

So the bottom line is you attempt this pass only in near perfect conditions, which means a light northeasterly wind, a southern swell below five feet, and clear visibility. And today looked like one of those days.

Leaving Bora Bora was difficult for us as it was such a beautiful and idyllic place.

We had already checked out of French Polynesia, so one way or the other we had to leave today. We had hoped for a quick getaway, but when we went to undo the mooring lines, we found them tightly wound in a candy cane wrap that took us about 20 minutes to untangle.

We talked with The Regency of the Seas and agreed to pass port-to-port near the pass.

Next, I looked at our navigation computer and saw a 1,000 foot cruise ship, The Regency of the Seas, was about to enter the narrow Bora Bora pass -- just as we would be exiting. A short radio call to the Regency got things sorted out and we passed them port to port about 1,000 ft. away just outside the pass. It was like a lit-up floating city passing us in the early morning hours.

The good news was we had very good weather conditions. The wind was less than 2 knots so we ended up motor sailing for about two hours, at which point the wind filled in to around 9 knots that made for a pleasant downwind sail. Our concern was a fairly large, very long period swell coming from the southeast. We wondered how this would affect the entrance at Maupiti.

The say Maupiti is Bora Bora thirty years ago. We agree.

After five hours of sailing we approached the southeast point of Maupiti with its towering mountain in the background. We saw two sailboats about two miles ahead and through our powerful binoculars we could see their masts heading into the entrance, so we at least knew it was possible to enter today (or they were charter boats whose captain thought "it's not my boat").

As we got closer, however, all we could see was a powerful line of continuous breaking surf with huge plumes of spray drifting out in the northwest wind. According to friends who had done the pass earlier in the year, you had to have a lot of trust as you traverse what seems like a continual line of surf until a break appears -- then you square the boat up and make a run for it.

Through the breaking surf and boiling water you suddenly see two large orange and white range markers, which you line up like a gun sight, keeping them inline puts you on the right inbound course. Things are happening fast now, so not a lot of time to think, more just quick reactions trying to keep the boat lined up on the two range markers as the current throws us to the right and then the left. The view was spectacular, but also frightening. On our left the breakers were pounding on the reef, and only 75 ft to our right the reef bared itself with jagged coral outcroppings as the surf broke across it.

Even with our powerful 62 hp. turbocharged Yanmar diesel, we were still only doing 2.4 knots against the 4 knot out bound current. By entering at noon when it's high tide we had the advantage of a lesser current, but we were still getting spun around like those teacup rides at the State Fair. Our first range quickly runs out and we turn about 30 degrees right and pick up a second range. I glance down at the depth sounder which now says 5 ft., then 8 ft., then 56 ft., realizing that the water is so turbulent and full of bubbles that the depth sounder can't maintain accurate readings. We're not aground so I figure that's good enough for me, as I have my hands full with steering and navigating.

Now leaving the second set of red/green navigational poles, things begin to slowly taper down to just a frightening level. The speed creeps up to 2.7 ("We're hauling now.") and the pass begins to widen a bit. As we get further inside we decide to take the main sail down since we're head to wind and there's not much space to maneuver ahead.

The rest of the passage was somewhat anti climatic was we followed a very well marked path of red/green poles in about 30 ft. of water. They describe Maupiti as a "better" Bora Bora, with it's central towering peak, verdant green vegetation, and azure blue lagoon. Only 700 people live on Maupiti, not even big enough to even have their own policeman. But there's no need. Maupiti is like returning to the Bora Bora of fifty years ago, where most residents speak only Tahitian (and French only when the have to) and enjoy as near an idyllic life as exists in the world.

Few sailboats dare to brave the Maupiti Pass, leaving the beautiful quiet lagoon almost to ourselves at times.

We are now anchored in 16 feet of water in the middle of the lagoon. A gentle 6-knot breeze wafts over the boat, and the beautiful, melodic sounds of a Tahitian choir practicing for tomorrow's church service drifts out over the water.

We will spend about a week here waiting for the westerly trade winds to get established again so we can enjoy 15-knot winds for our long passage to Palmerston Island in the Cook Islands. We think it's going to be a great week of snorkeling, SUP'ing, hiking, and relaxing on the boat just reading. Sounds good to us.

Goodbye French Polynesia, Hello Tonga!

It’s been about three weeks since we launched Flying Cloud after her four month storage in Raiatea. In the meanwhile we have been working daily on repairing broken items (very common when a boat is stored for any length of time) and general maintenance.  We were very happy the day she was put into the water so we could start using our refrigeration, water maker and toilets again (and praying that those things worked). Plus, it was weird being on a boat that wasn't moving all the time. Now we're back to our normal. 

We have two outboards so if one doesn't work we can use the other. When we put the boat back in the water neither of the outboards worked. We rowed a lot for a couple of days. Here I am installing a new carb on our 2 hp Yamaha.

We met a wonderful German couple, Barbara and Manfred, from Bonn.  They were kind enough to drive us around in their rental car to get groceries (and mainly ice when the boat was in the yard) and also introduced us to the wonderful Napoli Restaurant with the best food on Raiatea.

While I was out testing the outboard I turned around and saw this behemoth super yacht about to run me down. Turns out it was Barack Obama, Oprah, Bruce Springstein, and Tom Hanks with their respective spouses. I should have asked if they had some Grey Poupon.

We did a short shake-down cruise north up the west coast of Raiatea to the neighboring island of Taha'a, where we stayed at our favorite spot, Coral Gardens. Although it was more windy than usual, we still got in a great snorkel through the Coral Gardens near the fabulous Hotel Taha'a.  

This photo fascinates me. It was after a spectacular sunset (with Bora Bora in the clouds) with this brilliant blue light shining through the sky. I thought aliens had landed somewhere.

We then sailed from Taha'a a short five hours over to Bora Bora, where we got a mooring ball at the MaiKai Marina, home of the fastest (a relative term) Internet in all of French Polynesia. They also have an infinity pool (which we still haven't swum in) and a great Happy Hour.  We spent a couple of days on the east side of the island snorkeling at one of our favorite spots, Boat Pass, where we got the obligatory drive-by from a pair of black-tip sharks. Boat Pass is a nice area since you can snorkel along the edge of huge tabular corals while looking down 50 feet to the depths of the pass (where the big fishies live).

Came around they corner of the southeast side of Bora Bora to see the super yacht Senses anchored and a couple of guys out kite boarding. The yacht is owned by Larry Page who is head of Google. When you make several billion dollars this is one of the things you get to do.

Meryl has done a yeoman's job of repairing various things on the boat. Here she's replacing the stitching that holds in our plastic dodger window, which has disintegrated in the tropical heat.

We’re now back at MaiKai Marina and are ready to depart for the 1,000 mile passage to Tonga.  We have visited the gendarmes (national police) and received our final clearance papers this afternoon. The winds look light for the next two weeks, but since we’ve already checked out we will try to visit the nearby French islands of Maupiti and Maupihaa, then sail to Palmerston Island in the Cooks, then on to Beveridge Reef and the island nation of Niue before arriving in Tonga. That should conservatively take about three weeks if everything goes according to plan (which never happens).

This shows our proposed routing for the next month, from Bora to Maupiti, Maupihaa, Palmerston, Beveridge Reef, Niue, and on to Tonga. I want to publicly state that I stole this incredible graphic off the web site of our friends Mark and Sarah on Field Trip.  Mark is so much better at this stuff than me, I'd encourage everyone to read their blog.

Our conundrum is that we want good winds for the passage (in the 15- to 25-knot range), but light winds and swell during the first week or two so we can possibly visit the islands of Maupiti and Maupihaa.  Maupiti is only a five-hour sail from Bora Bora and is reputed to be one of the most beautiful islands in the South Pacific. Unfortunately it also has one of the most difficult/dangerous entrances of any island we’ve visited.  Surf breaks on both sides of the entrance and you don’t really see the entrance until you’re almost in the surf line, hence the importance of waiting for a day when the winds are light and the south swell is below five feet. The current always rushes out the pass, running from 3 to 7 knots, which means we'll be motoring in at about 1 or 2 knots net speed. Our plan is to leave early Saturday morning and scout out the entrance. If it looks too hairy, we’ll simply sail on to our second destination, the small island of Maupihaa. Maupihaa (also known as  Mopelia) is about a day and one-half sail further west and has an even more hairy entrance than Maupiti. Again, you need to hit it on the right day. The pass runs like a river and is only 60 feet wide, not much wider than the length of our boat. If it works out right you get a great sleigh ride, if not ...

We are really looking forward to arriving in both Tonga and Fiji, but have a certain amount of trepidation given that this passage is known among sailors as “The Dangerous Middle,” given the spontaneous squalls and other weather events spawned by the South Pacific Convergent Zone and the numerous “unmarked” reefs in the area.  We plan to sail very conservatively, but anticipate that this will be an adventure none the less.

One of the problems all cruisers have is we love to research potential routes and destinations, reading various resource materials and the blogs of other sailboats. Where one blog will say “XYZ has the most dangerous entrance we’ve every seen” the next blog will say “It was like a lake the day we entered, don’t know what all the fuss is about.”  The reality if that weather plays a huge factor in everything and what is a piece of cake on one day can be life threatening on another day.  You have to know your boat, it’s capabilities, and your own capabilities. And then you have to be lucky.

All the islands we plan to visit are rarely visited by tourists and passed by most cruisers.  We’ll just have to see how it goes. Cruisers are typically welcomed with open arms by the islanders who don't see many vistors during a busy year.

We will have no Internet once we leave Bora Bora and will depend on our @sailmail.com address using our Iridium Go device while on passage.  If you do send us mail, which we really appreciate, be sure it’s text only -- no graphics, photos, or attachments.

We will be doing something new, however, posting daily or semi-weekly updates via our satellite email system directly to our blog. We won't have the opportunity to post pictures until we get somewhere with good Internet (most likely Tonga or Fiji), but we can backfill the photos at that point.

Stay tuned, we'll let you know how the adventure unfolds.

The Winter of Our Discontent

The decision to leave Flying Cloud for four months and return to Seattle for knee surgery was a very difficult one. With no prior knowledge of what was involved in this type of surgery and the long recovery time, I now would have probably delayed it until we were living in the US again where recovery and rehab would have been much easier. That said, we did the best with a difficult situation and are soldiering on.

Our son Brad was kind enough to haul my old leather reclining chair from a friend's house over to the BnB so I could comfortably sit and work with my knee elevated.

With over 20 inches of snow at our son's house, things got cold when the power went out for several days.

Meryl spent lots of time playing games with our two grandson's Brody and Bennett. This was prior to the storm.

Since we had only booked our AirBnb in Bellevue (in Bridle Trails) for a month, and realized we needed more recovery/physical therapy time, we had to move to our son’s house for week (since the AirBnB was already booked by someone else) before we could return a week later.  The week at our son’s house was difficult given the 18 inches of snow that fell, accompanied by no power for about three days. So with limited heat, no power, no Internet, and the fact our cell phones didn’t work at that location, we made the best of a difficult situation. We did throughly enjoy our time with the grandkids, with Meryl taking over most of the game playing, cooking, and other activities with me sitting on the sidelines.

Back at the BnB my faithful physical therapist Sanny put me through the paces twice a week. She was extremely good but it still hurt when she tried to bend my leg into shapes it didn't want to be in.

Back at the Bridle Trails AirBnb we were very fortunate to have a great physical therapist, Sanny Wong, who visited us twice a week and helped Meryl and I learn about the PT exercises and stretches. Peter from upstairs brought us fresh blueberry muffins and provided moral support, as well as delivery of the constant stream of Amazon packages for the boat.

On February 14th we departed early for Bend, Oregon in the morning to avoid calamity at the often closed Snoqualmie Pass, but cruised through marveling at the huge walls of snow towering along the road. The rest of the six-hour drive to Bend was beautiful as we drove through the snow-covered wheat fields of Eastern Washington and saw Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Hood looming in the distance.

We stayed in a nice basement AirBnb in Bend run by a real estate developer and his wife. It was near town and right across from the river, a great location for walking to town, but with all the snow and ice covered streets it was like a minefield for me. 

The purpose of our trip south was to check out various areas as future homes for when we sell the boat next year. Bend, with it’s great winter skiing and summer hiking has always been one of our favorite vacation spots, but unfortunately migrating Californians with pockets full of equity have been driving house prices skyward. 

We spent a short week with two different real estate agents exploring various neighborhoods in Bend, eventually finding a couple  of areas that met our needs, but were on the very edge of our budget. If we do decide to move to Bend, we’ll most likely have to rent a house (and the rental market is almost non existent) and be prepared to make an offer the minute a house of interest comes on the market. Not an ideal situation, given the fact when we sold our house in North Bend ours was one of few house’s to sell in a three-month period. Oh what a difference timing makes in the real estate market.

We had debated leaving the car in Bend and flying to Arizona, but since it was President’s Weekend we’d have to have already purchased our airline tickets with no chance of getting a stand-by seat on the airlines at this point, so we decided to drive. I was also still struggling with my knee and the thought of carrying our heavy bags through airports also wasn’t appealing. 

Outside of the fact it was around 20 degrees and a huge front was approaching California, the drive south was pleasant. You could see 100 miles ahead on the road and it was arrow straight all the way to Las Vegas. I love big wide open spaces and this area of the US offers the best unobstructed vistas anywhere. We cruised by Area 51 looking for aliens along the road and pulled into Las Vegas about 8:00 pm, tired and hungry. The big front from California actually flooded some areas of town earlier in the day, but things were back to normal by the time we pulled into the La Quinta hotel. 

We were able to sleep in a bit the next morning and then continued our journey past Hoover Dam through Arizona to Phoenix. Amazing to see huge vistas covered with Saguaro and Prickly Pear Cactus. Seems like we’d finally arrived at the southern deserts.

We were fortunate that our friends Jim and Mary Ann Sander’s invited us to stay at their winter house at Sun City Grand, just northwest of Phoenix. They gave us the grand tour of the over-55 planned community with its swimming pools, recreation centers, tennis and pickle ball courts and other amenities. Jim was especially proud to show us the community wood shop full of state-of-the-art woodworking equipment. By the greetings from other shop members, we could see Jim was a regular at the facility. Last winter he made a beautiful king-sized bed, two end tables, bureau, entry and living area tables, and even pine valances over the windows. And this was very high quality furniture, the type you’d see for sale at a designer store. Jim and Mary Ann also did a lot of work remodeling their house three years ago with new tile, new countertops, media center and more. When they asked us what house we liked best so far, we just said “We want your house!”

We had a great day attending the Seattle Mariners Spring Training in Peoria. 

Meryl and Mary Ann enjoying the game.

Jim and Mary Ann both volunteer at the Mariner’s Spring Training camp and were nice enough to invite us to join them to watch the Mariners play the Oakland A’s. We were amazed at how modern the spring training facilities were, and the large crowds that gather for the daily baseball games. Great fun.

We then moved to a AirBnb condo in central Phoenix that was freshly remodeled and new on the market. The owner, a real estate agent, did a great job with the project and even featured an art deco type of decor that was perfect. Everything we needed was included, even some food items. It was a a huge 600-condo development in mid town Phoenix, and therefore central to everywhere you’d want to go. It even had a small, but well equipped gym where Walter could do a modified workout for his knee rehab. Afterwards we’d jump in the pool and then the hot tub, enjoying the 76 degree Phoenix winter heat (yes we know it gets way hotter in the summer).

Robert, our relentless real estate person, showed us a variety of homes in the Phoenix area. We liked just about everything we saw.

We spent the next two weeks exploring various Phoenix neighborhoods trying to get a handle on what type of area would appeal to us. We meet up with Paulette and Gene who lived in the trendy Scottsdale area for breakfast one day. Paulette is the mother of one of Christa’s close high school buddies, Jeff Miller (now an exec with Uber). She and Gene gave us a full day tour of the northeast side of Phoenix (Scottsdale and environs) and we enjoyed a great lunch in the eclectic Cave Creek area. What a wonderful day.

We also met up with a former Pam Am flight attendant friend of Meryl’s, Liz Knowles and her husband Bob, to see their town home in a gated community in Scottsdale. They had done a great job redecorating it in an antique Old World style. Liz was very helpful and came up with some neighborhoods we should check out with our realtor. And to top it all off we had dinner in Vistancia with my cousin Dana and her husband Tim at their beautiful winter home, complete with infinity pool and hot tub. Tim and Dana, as usual, outdid themselves with huge New York cut steaks, Idaho baked potatoes the size of basketballs (almost), and for desert caramel ice cream over chocolate caramel brownies.  I almost passed out in a glycemic coma driving home. Thanks for the great visit, guys.

Frank Lloyd Wright's home, called Taliesin, just north of Scottsdale.

Frank Lloyd Wright hosted parties every Saturday night for his staff and clients. He designed all the furniture you see in this photo, believing that form and function could easily co-exist.

A bust of Frank Lloyd Wright sculpted by one of his students.

We took a day off from house hunting and visited Frank Lloyd Wright’s impressive home and school at Taliesin, just east of Scottsdale. A docent led an hour long tour of the facility, which also includes a school for graduate architects. The stories about Frank Lloyd Wright are legendary, and mostly true, detailing the life of an incredibly talented man with no desire to compromise. He even tried to get the state to reroute power lines several miles away that were (in his mind) blocking his pristine view of the desert. He loved to entertain and every Saturday hosted a cocktail party with up to 30 guests that was mandatory for his students to attend. He felt that learning the social skills to deal with high flying clients was an important skill for young architects.

The red rock mesas and rock formations surrounding Sedona give it a very mystical aura.

On March 6th we departed Phoenix for the long drive back to Seattle. We took a more easterly route through the spectacular red rock canyons of Sedona, up to Flagstaff, then across parts of Utah (including some 9,000 ft. elevation passes that were still covered with snow) dropping down into Ely, Nevada where we spend the night at the eclectic Prospector Casino. 

The next day was a “straight-as-an-arrow” road up to Twin Falls where we caught I80 for the long drive to historic Baker City where we spent the night. I guess we were lucky again as we passed over Snoqualmie Pass with backups of only 90 minutes. The next day the pass was closed again, always a gamble as we almost went along the Columbia River to bypass the problem!  Another day and we were back in Seattle for the final meeting with my orthopedic surgeon (he says I’ll live) and some other lose ends. Jim and Chris Berry were nice enough to host us for a few days and we throughly enjoyed our time with them. We always enjoy our time with them and got a chance to just sit by the fire with a glass of wine catching up on each other’s lives. 

Up bright and early we headed off towards Boise, but ventured a little further on to Sun Valley to visit with friends Georgia McRae and Patsy & Steve Larson from the Seattle-Tacoma area. For years we had joined a large group of skiers from Tacoma for a fun packed week skiing in Sun Valley. With Walter’s new knee, however, this year meant just a little walking around. We were a little road weary when we pulled in but managed to make it just in time for happy hour down at Georgia’s hot-tub around 5 pm. 

The intrepid Sun Valley ski group: From center left to right: Dave Lindhow, Bill and Lisa Lincoln, Walter & Meryl, Steve and Patsy Larson, Kim and George Howe, and our hostess, Georgia McRae. This guys (all in their late 60s to early 70s) are all great skiers and can give any twenty year old a run for his/her money.

We spent the next few days exploring Sun Valley and Ketchum (and tentatively looking at houses) while our friends skied, then met down at hot tub for drinks. On our final day we met with a large group for dinner at Knob Hill to partake of their famous prime rib sandwiches, which definitely lived up to their reputation. It was great to see George and Kim Howe, Lisa and Bill Lincoln, and Dave Lindhow again after almost five years since our last visit. What a fun group of people.

We then drove back to Boise to drop the car off, saying ‘hi” to our cruising friends from What If, Dean and Kris, and enjoying a great dinner at the Tavern at Bown Crossing with old Catalina 36 sailing friends Mike and Lynda McCann who had just sold their Bainbridge Island home and were in the process of building a beautiful new home in Eagle, just outside Boise.

The next day, at the ungodly hour of 5:00 am we took a cab to the airport with our normal 200+ lbs. of luggage and got in the big silver bird to Denver, then on to Los Angeles. After a 12-hour layover, most of it spent spacing out in UAL’s Red Carpet Club (how many cheese and crackers can you eat?) we finally departed LAX at 00:25 the next morning for the overnight flight to Papeete. I have to say we slept (kind of) most of the way, ignoring the 50+ movies in their system. Immigration was relatively easy and customs was non-existent (for tourists) and we even got on an earlier 7:30 am flight to Raiatea. We ran into cruising friends Kim and Dave from Maluhia and they urged us to check our excess baggage at the Air Tahiti Freight Counter about 100 yards around the corner from the gate. That saved us at least $150 and the luggage went on the next flight out. 

We landed at Raiatea about 10:30 am and schlepped all our baggage out to a cab for the short ride to the Raiatea Carenage. Back at the boat by 11:00 we were pleased to find everything just as we’d left it and began the long process of getting the boat ready (new bottom paint, polish the hulls, etc.) for launch in about two weeks. As we mentioned to many friends, this is not a process we look forward to. Living on the boat in the boatyard (twenty feet up in the air) is no picnic since our refrigeration and heads don’t work out of the water and there’s very little airflow in the marina, meaning the boat is around 93 degrees most of the day. On top of everything else our domestic water pump was on the fritz meaning we had no running water in the boat.

If you look carefully Flying Cloud is somewhere in the center of all this. Now you can see why we love living in boatyards.

As we unpack all our bags the boat morphs into a state of total disarray, since there is nowhere to immediately put all the new junk we’ve brought back. It’s an understatement to say that Meryl doesn’t deal with the stage very well. For Walter it’s a humbling experience learning to move around all the mess while protecting his healing left leg from damage. But eventually you get all the stuff put away, you fix the water pump (defective pressure switch and we actually had a spare!), and you precariously balance on a narrow scaffolding 10 ft in the air while you clean and polish the sides of the hull.

Every other day Meryl hitchhikes the five miles to town to buy $17 worth of cubed ice (no block ice in Tahiti) and gets either a cab or hitches back to the boat. This barely keeps our food cold in the ice box, but does afford us our one luxury of the day:  a cold iced drink. We hired the yard to sand and paint the bottom (too much for Walter with the bad leg) and we’re now ready to go in the water, except for the fact we’ve had torrential downpours everyday for the last four days and will now have to stay in the yard over the weekend and splash on Monday. It’s important to note that Meryl has been my bedrock during these days of rehabilitation, taking on way more responsibilities than normal and helping out in a million different ways. Thanks so much, honey.

The good news is when the rain clears we can see romantic Bora Bora beckoning in the distance, the sunlight glistening off the azure blue tropical waters, and the fact that nobody is going to freeze to death in the 83 degree weather.  Such is life.