Thar She Blows

I know I've said this about a million times, but I am going to say it again...we are pretty lucky. We are floating in our home in one of the most beautiful areas on the face of the earth. We don't exactly feel like we are on vacation because of all of the needed attention that the boat has thrown at us this past week, but we still don't have to go to work. I can still sleep in as long as I want, I can go to bed when I feel like it, and I can eat cookies all day long (if Brenda would let me). Retirement is good.

We anchored our floating home next to Spencer Spit on Lopez Island and decided that this spot was as good as any to get caught up on boat projects and drift back into boating life. The first few days flew by because of the barrage of needed boat projects that were required after 9 months of sitting in the storage yard. We had to put the sails back on the boat so we at least resembled a sailboat, we swabbed the poop deck to wash off 9 months dirt and grime, and we tuned up the rigging. Brenda was on “mold patrol” with a vengeance. She said that there was mildew everywhere from being closed up through the winter but I couldn't see any mildew anywhere. She said she could smell it too, but the boat just looked and smelled like a boat to me. She got out her rubber gloves, q-tips, bleach, and went to town. Now the boat smells nothing like a boat, it smells like a hospital.

While Brenda was on mold patrol, I was on the “getting the stupid dinghy motor running” patrol. After the 3^rd time taking the carburetor apart to clean out all of the gunk that kept accumulating after about 30 seconds of running, I finally figured out that our old plastic gas can and fuel hose were coming apart and depositing little presents in the carburetor which would cause it to politely quit running. A new fuel tank and hose was needed, otherwise I was going to “accidentally” drop the outboard overboard so I would have an excuse to get a new one.

We found a marine parts store on the opposite side of Lopez Island that had our needed tank and hose and it was only a couple of hours of sailing away. Brenda had the great idea that it would actually be a shorter distance for us to walk there than it would be to sail. “We should walk...it will be fun! When was the last time we walked across an island?” said her majesty. Her distance logic was accurate, but the fun part, not so much.

From where we were anchored, it was 4 miles across the island to the parts store. That means 8 miles round trip. No problem, that's child's play. The problem came after we picked up the new fuel tank and hose that was now strapped to my backpack and saw the sign that said “Farmer's Market TODAY!” “It's only a couple of miles of walking away and we need some fresh fruit and veggies” said her highness.

For some reason, Brenda loves farmer's markets. I'm usually not too excited about them. Every once in a while we go to one that actually has great produce that was brought there by the actual farmer, but it seems that most of them don't have much that came from a farm or a farmer. There are generally lots of arts and crafts and nick-nacks that have been misrepresented by the “farmer's market” sign. If they would call them an “art's and crafts fair with possibly some produce” then I wouldn't feel so slighted after we visited the market. This one was no different. Actually it was different because there was no produce at all. I couldn't have bought a rotten tomato if I wanted to. There was absolutely nothing from a farm. Nothing. I felt ripped off. I take that back...there were chickens that you could hold for a dollar, and for 5 dollars, you could get your picture taken with said chicken. Still, I felt that driftwood art, hand made cards, walking sticks, tye-dyed clothes, and homemade jewelry don't constitute a “farmers market”. Now I'm getting worked up...who can I talk to about this?

Where was I? Oh yeah, we needed fruit and veggies. Since the “art's and crafts fair with no produce at all” didn't have what we needed, we decided that we should just walk to the grocery store. Only another couple miles because we “need” this stuff or we may die, so we go.

Fruits, veggies, cookies (mine), 6-pack of beer (Brenda's), grapefruit juice, and the fuel tank and fuel hose get's loaded up...holy crap this junk is heavy! At this point we've walked about 10 miles. From the store to our boat was another 5 miles. About a mile into the walk home, Brenda says “we're almost there” with a smile that tells me she doesn't care that I may pass out at any moment. Luckily for me, a nice elderly couple stops with their pickup truck and says “that backpack looks heavy! Want a ride?” Silly question...of course I want a ride! In the back of the truck we go and the last few miles goes by with a nice breeze in our hair.

When we get back to the boat, Brenda goes back to mold patrol and I take apart the carburetor and clean it out one more time, hook up the new tank and hose, and fire up the motor. This time she runs like a top. It runs better than it has in years. Perfect. I guess I won't have to “accidentally” drop the outboard overboard after all.

As I am putting away my tools, and as Brenda is elbow deep in mold patrol, the whole point of this rambling happens.

“Pssshhhhhhhh”...an unmistakable sound. It's an exciting sound that is still exciting every time I hear it. The exhale of whales. Every time I hear the “pssshhhhhh” my head instantly pop's up and scans the horizon. A pod of Orca's swam into our anchorage about 50 yards away from us, trapped a bunch of salmon, and had a quick lunch. Amazing.

I am going to go out on a limb and say that we have seen more whales than the vast majority of the world's population. I'm going to go out on another limb and say that most people have never ever seen a whale other than on TV or in a magazine. When I count all of my whale encounters I run out of fingers and toes, and if you are wondering, I remember them all vividly.

We've seen humpbacks blow bubbles to catch a mouthful of whatever they eat, we've had gray whales circle our boat so close while we were anchored that we could smell their exhales (smelled retched), and Orcas swim so close to us that I could have either tried to take a picture or reach out my hand and try to pet them as they swam by...I opted for the hand out (he was just out of reach but we made eye contact...pretty cool). Since we live on our sailboat, most of our whale encounters have happened from the comfort of our home which makes them seem just that much cooler. Even though we've seen whales bunches of times, there are some things that never get old. We are pretty lucky.

The view of our backyard at sunset

This Pirate ship sailed through our front yard...Aaaaaaaarrrrg!

Our friendly neighbors, the Whales, leaving our backyard after lunch.