Sailing – Page 6 – On the Horizon Line

A Letter to Llyr – From Bri

The following is a letter I emailed to the owners of Llyr. In April, this family will embark on an ocean expedition to research bio-cultural diversity from their 53′ steel sailboat. Llyr responded to our post in Cruisers Forum, and we’ve been communicating about potentially crewing on their boat from Panama to the Marquesas — a 30+ day crossing of the Pacific Ocean.

Dear Janis and Brooks,

Thanks so much for giving us this glimpse into your life, your goals, and your boat. It’s been a pleasure to read more about you and your family, and we certainly appreciate the time you’ve spent communicating with us. Since Rob’s done the majority of communication on our behalf, I thought I’d jump in with my background first.

I was born in Southern California, and lived there until I was 22. My family lived at the base of the San Gorgonio Wilderness, just west of the desert near Palm Springs. My sister and I were lucky enough to grow up exploring tall mountains, fascinating deserts, and the Pacific Ocean. Some of my first memories are sleeping in the quarter-berth of my Grandpa’s Catalina while it was docked in Dana Point. My dad took care of this boat after Grandpa died, and they took us for weekend sailing getaways until the family had to sell the boat when I was 10. We continued our “sailing lessons” with Dad by renting small boats a couple times each summer, and I went on to take sailing lessons while at college in San Diego. I took all the courses I could, mainly so I was “certified” to check out different sailboats on weekends to tool around Mission Bay. Hobie Cats were my favorite.

When I moved to Montana for grad school 10 years ago, I said a tearful goodbye to the Pacific and sailing…and then unexpectedly found a unique opportunity to sail even more in Montana! A friend asked me to caretake his boat and share docking costs on Flathead Lake, the largest freshwater lake west of the Mississippi. I’ve spent 6 seasons (May-Oct) exploring this 25×10 mile lake, gaining experience in safe anchoring off the many islands and in weathering rough mountain storms. This 1975 Paceship 26′ boat had no “amenities,” and I quickly learned the nuances of sail trim without a windex, anemometer, or GPS.

My favorite part about sailing on Flathead Lake is taking my friends out for the first time. We’ve probably introduced 30 people to their first sail over the years, and even inspired a few to take lessons and get their own boat! I love teaching others how to move through space with the power of wind alone, and watching them feel comfortable at the tiller after just a few hours. Rob was one of those I taught — and the quickest learner, with his background exploring water. We started dating during my third summer sailing, and truly fell in love on the boat. Since 2009, Rob and I would head up most Friday afternoons and cast off dock lines as soon as we could, spending 2-3 nights out on the lake, staring at Glacier National Park and the Mission Mountain Wilderness. His proficiency at fixing things on the boat (or anywhere, for that matter) and wanting to explore how things work on the boat mesh well with my contentment simply sailing her for hours.

I’ve wanted to cross the Pacific for as long as I can remember. Partly, this is because I distinctly remember”interviewing” my dad for a homework assignment in elementary school about the “event that most changed a parent’s life.” His was crossing from Hawaii to Santa Barbara when he delivered a boat (he worked in boatyards throughout So. Cal. in his early 20s). I can still recall exactly where I sat while he told me about pilot whales, storms, crystal-clear stars, and finding treasures while skin diving. I can hardly believe I might get the chance to have my own life-changing Pacific crossing in a few short months.

As for other sailing experience, my friend, Katie, and I chartered a bareboat out of the US BVIs in 2008. We sailed a Bavaria 38′ for 9 days, anchoring, mooring, and navigating between 6 islands. It was spirited weather, and we never took the reef out of the main. In 2007, I jumped aboard a 65′ Maxi racing boat in Airlie Beach, Australia, offering my crew and cooking services in return for a free 4-day sailing and snorkel trip around the Whitsunday Islands

I also crewed with a friend on his 30′ sailboat for 8 days and ~275 miles in Southeast Alaska in 2010. He asked for my help during the “Dixon Entrance”, which is one of the gnarliest crossings in the Inside Passage with no protection for the full force of Pacific waves and winds coming Northwest. It was fun. I learned a lot more about navigation on this Alaska voyage, since we had to rely on charts and GPS frequently due to dense fog. I also learned a lot more about how tides can impact navigation and velocity, as the huge tidal currents formed rips and whirlpools.

Lastly, Rob and I joined Katie and her husband, Mark, in Baja CA last November for a 2-week bareboat charter. We crammed 4 people in a 1970 22′ Catalina, along with enough food and water to explore deserted desert islands for 12 full days. We outfitted the boat ourselves with food for the 2 weeks, and were largely alone in the ocean, aside from a short stop in a tiny ~100-person village. Katie and Mark are now cruising in their own boat in Baj a, and we plan to start our trip with them on their 28′ Pearson-Triton in late March before crossing the Pacific.

As for conservation and communication…well, those two words sum up my professional interests and experience in a nutshell! Writing is one of my passions, and one of my skills. Conservation is a principal ethos by which I live my life. I’m a biology major, and took several marine biology courses in San Diego as well as on Vancouver Island where I studied for 6 months. I also taught marine biology at an Audubon Camp in Maine for a summer before moving to Montana. My master’s in Environmental Writing has served me well these past 8+ years as I raise money, lobby, and lead the outreach/ communications around freshwater conservation in western Montana. I taught myself how to build a website this fall, and have enjoyed learning more about the many opportunities to reach a broader audience with diverse types of media. I’m looking forward to writing and creating more during our “mid-life retirement.”

I’m great at scrubbing decks or dishes. I like oiling teak. I love cooking, and especially the challenge of cooking a great meal with limited ingredients. I got my scuba open water certification in Montana (brrrr!), and have dived in Florida, Cuba, and Mexico. I play guitar, sing, practice yoga and all types of dance, and — always, always — look for ways to learn more about the world around us.

I think your family, your boat, and your goals sound amazing. And, I think that Rob and I would fit in well, from what we understand so far. Thank you again for the chance to introduce ourselves. I look forward to talking more, and hopefully meeting in person, too.

Cheers,

Brianna

Sailing

The Pacific Puddle Jump

About a month ago, we had over friends-of-friends for dinner. Andy and Sandy spent 2.5 years cruising the Pacific a few years ago with their daughter. They sailed from Seattle to Mexico to New Zealand, stopping at all those awesome South Pacific islands along the way. We wanted their advice on our upcoming journey through similar islands.

Over risotto and grilled deer steaks, Andy said (about 22 times), “But what do you mean you’re FLYING to Tahiti?! You’d miss the best adventure of all!”

He means crossing the Pacific Ocean by sailboat. An epic voyage. Any way you slice it, it’s a long, long, LONG way from North America to the next tiny spit of land. For sailors heading west from northern regions (Vancouver, San Fransisco, Seattle), the nearest island stop is Hawai’i. If you sail west from southern latitudes like La Paz, Puerto Vallarta, or Panama City, boats usually head toward the Marquesas. It takes roughly a month, give or take 10 days depending on wind, waves, your hull-speed, and your navigation skills.

Yup, a month. At sea. Across the largest ocean on Earth. In a small vessel the size of your living room.

The Pacific Puddle Jump, as it’s called affectionately in the cruising community, is not usually the very first crossing people undertake. Most people opt for an overnight passage at first to get their sea legs under them (and to test their proclivity toward sea-sickness). Next, they might work up to a 3 or 4 night-long passage at sea — this gives folks the chance to learn how sail continuously through day and night, without stopping to anchor or dock.

While Rob and I have spent over a week at a time living on a sailboat, we’ve never done an overnight passage.

After our dinner guests left, I told Rob that I’ve always wanted to cross the Pacific … probably because I remember the stories my dad told about his crossing from Maui to Santa Barbara, full of stars, whales, waves and life-changing ruminations. And because I like challenges, and the roads less traveled.

Rob said, “Well, hell, if you’ve always wanted to do it, now’s the time. Let’s buy a one-way ticket to Mexico and hitch a ride.”

So, we’re doing it. What better way to start a new adventure than with a giant, flying leap across a big, sparkling puddle?

Watch out, Marquesas. Here we come!

Sailing

Like a Fish Out of Water

We hauled the boat out of Flathead Lake, and winterized her for her stay “on the hard” over the next 7+ months. It’s always a bittersweet (mostly bitter) moment to see Spindrift swaying like a stranded fish above the lake, knowing that we’re saying goodbye to sailing the blue-green waters beneath Montana’s beautiful peaks.

This fall’s haul-out was even more poignant, as it’s the last time we’ll sail Spindrift for years. Her owner, John, lives in New York City, and has generously let us share his family’s 1975 Paceship-26 for the past 6 years. He’s looking for new friends to share and maintain the boat, since we’re heading out on our adventure before the next Montana sailing season.

Luckily, the bitterness of saying goodbye to Spindrift is offset by the sweet, sweet knowledge that next time we set foot on a sailboat it’ll be in warm, salty, southern seas!

Phil taking out Spindrift — The master at work. Phil moves hundreds of boats in and out of the water

Check out Dayton Yacht Harbor’s new yellow tractor! We used to have a 1940s fire truck that pulled out the boats — more ambiance, but also more nerve-wracking.

Kind of weird to see Rob BELOW the sailboat on the water!

There she goes! Out of the lake and up the road, pulled by the new yellow tractor.

Almost at her resting place for the winter. Spindrift stays on jacks “on the hard” from Oct through June.

Phil and tractor for haul out — The master at work. Phil moves hundreds of boats in and out of the water

Check out Dayton Yacht Harbor’s new yellow tractor! We used to have a 1940s fire truck that pulled out the boats — more ambiance, but also more nerve-wracking.

Kind of weird to see Rob BELOW the sailboat on the water!

There she goes! Out of the lake and up the road, pulled by the new yellow tractor.

Almost at her resting place for the winter. Spindrift stays on jacks “on the hard” from Oct through June.

: A close-up of the high-tech sling device, with Phil expertly handling the controls.

Spindrift in sling flathead — Getting her centered in the two sling straps takes some doing, as well as some old plywood boards, a boat-hook, and serious cursing.

Reflections on Life, Sailing

The Little Red Bible: Goodbye Wedding Tasks, Hello Bon Voyage To-Do’s!

A couple of weeks ago, Rob bought us a red, wide-ruled notebook (picture what you get for an 8-year-old as back-to-school gear). It’s replaced my 3-page “Wedding To-Do List” in a place of honor, right next to the Field Guide to North American Birds and the big pile of bills. While the wedding was fun as hell, I don’t miss the mundane organizing tasks a bit…especially since our new red bible is so titillating.

For those of you who don’t know, we’re leaving Missoula this spring to explore islands, oceans, and cultures west of North America. A couple years back, we decided to search for some brand-new horizons.

We’re quitting our jobs in March, packing our belongings into a 5×10′ space, renting the house, selling the car, and taking one backpack each into the sunset. Our goal is to crew on sailboats through the South Pacific, Indonesia, and Southeast Asia in 2013, eventually buying our own boat. In between ocean voyages, we plan to climb mountains, fly off cliffs, dance on beaches, meet new people, and see what may find us.

The dream is going to be a reality in just under 6 months. Which means we have to get our s$i@ together, starting with keeping all our random “oh, we should do this before we go” ideas in one place, instead of exclaiming them to each other at all hours.

Meanwhile, back on the homefront, there’s a LOT to do before we set sail. Rob isn’t big on electronic lists, mostly because we look at computers enough in the office. And I find comfort in physical lists, probably because I LOVE crossing things off in big, black, permanent marker.

This red notebook is our ticket to get outta dodge. Below are the 7 list categories so far, with one example of what’s under each category:

Wish List (Go Pro Hero 2 Camera)
Items We Need (UV water purifier)
Life Maintenance (buy emergency international health insurance: here’s the front runner)
House Prep (build a wall to separate the garage in half, creating a locked storage area for all our stuff)
Odds and Ends (find a new home for the chickens)
Sailing Prep (decide if we’re going to get a USGS Captain’s License and study like hell)
Timeline (put the the car up for sale in February and the house up for rent in January)

Some lists are a lot longer than others (like the Wish List), and all of them will probably get longer this winter. Luckily, we keep crossing things off, too, inching that much closer to a new horizon line.

Community and Culture, Hiking, Sailing

Loving Montana Over Labor Day Weekend

Even though the fires make for good sunsets, they’re hell on throats and positive attitudes. The Friday night before the long holiday weekend over Labor Day found Missoula wreathed in mood-dampening smoke. We decided to get out of dodge.

Rob, Cassidy, and I took off Saturday to the northern Mission Mountains for an overnight backpack to Mollman Lakes. We hiked in from the Tribal Wilderness side, which is straight up (and I do mean straight) from the valley floor. We drove the little red truck through the forest on a sort-of road, plowing over massive rocks and around cedar branches.

After 5 miles and 3,500 feet, we arrived at Mollman pass and gazed out at the craggy Mission cliffs, and two sinuous deep blue lakes spread out before us. Our friend, Derek, was already there, and snagged the best campsite. Three more friends rolled in an hour later. The dogs were in heaven. One-night backpacks are awesome: our packs were less than 20 pounds, and it felt like we flew up the trail. We saw a small black bear on a scree field, and plenty of bear poop on the trail. We only passed two other groups (a regular thoroughfare, compared to most wilderness hikes in Montana): one group were acquaintances, and the other was a pack of Amish boyscouts hiking out from the lakes.

A full moon rose over the rocky cliffs as we joked around a campfire in the cold air at our 7,000-foot elevation. After three hilarious tries, and two broken ropes, we managed to hang the ~50 pounds of food for 7 people and 2 dogs.

Our friends stayed in another night to fish and laze on rocks, while Rob and I hiked out and drove north another 40 miles to Flathead Lake and our sailboat.

The wind was whipping. We made it to the east end of Wild Horse Island in record time, docking at a friend’s cabin for a quick happy hour visit. From the dock, we pointed to Mollman Pass, rising sharply out of the lake to the south, and told them about our night in the woods.

Waving farewell at sunset, Rob and I had a quick sail to the protected Skeeko Bay. We nestled our anchor in a free spot near shore, counting a record 14 boats already anchored for the night. Party weekend. About an hour later, as we were making pasta in the cabin, another friend—our slip neighbor at Dayton Yacht Harbor—hailed us from his stand-up paddleboard. They’d anchored next to us, and he was shuttling their dog to shore for its evening pee. I slept well, lulled and comfortable with the gentle rock in Skeeko’s protected anchorage.

We woke up with a hike, a swim, and some knot-tying practice in the cockpit. Around noon, we headed back to the harbor to pick up another couple of friends (and a dog, of course), heading out for an afternoon of stand-up paddling, beers, swimming, and communal laughter.

All in all, another Montana Labor Day weekend spent exerting minimal labor and receiving much love from our community, our mountains, and our favorite lake.

Sailing, Traveling

Baja or Bust: Sailing in the Sea of Cortez

Four sailors. Twelve days. Five desert islands. 125 miles in a 22-foot 1978 Catalina. In November 2011, Rob and I and two of our closest friends spent two weeks exploring the Loreto Marine Park in the Sea of Cortez. And we did it for less than $1,000 per person (including flights and tequila!).

The full story will appear in the August edition of Cruising World. We hope the story will inspire readers to just go: sail when, how, and where you can, even if it means cramped quarters on a 30-year-old boat you rent from a guy in Mexico named Rudolfo. For now, here’s a few pictures and a “trailer” of our trip: