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Letters To My Brother

8/31/2016

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Picture
8/30/16
Dear Brother,

Many trips ago I learned to time the tide, taking the incoming flood up the bay. I could almost drift to where I wanted to go. Saturday was no different as the dock lines were let go and Ava eased out of her slip. What was different was the near dead calm wind that afternoon. There was a following breath, just enough to keep the main from collapsing, but as we dodged crab floats our speed over ground matched the current, hardly a knot and a half. Ahead the water lay smooth with little to promise the sails. For the first time we were forced to start the engine while far from our anchorage. The main was left up to add to our speed and stabilize her, though not really needed.

Out the 27th and back in the 29th. Two nights with one full day on the hook.
A quick trip to be sure, no worries of running out of water or propane. An indulgence where I could use all the water I wanted to rinse my coffee cup.
Of course I didn't. This was the first test of the new salt water system for the galley. The idea is to use filtered salt water for just about everything you can including washing dishes. It’s surprising how many things you can do without dipping into the tank supply. Only the final rinse is done with fresh water. You can double your time between fill-ups. 

A somewhat uneventful trip did have one very enjoyable and unexpected event. All summer we have shared the entire Yaquina River watershed with only one other boat. This center cockpit sailor could be seen anchored most of the time up and down the river. I can say for a fact he was the only one with more time spent in the bay then Ava. The day before departure we met him on the transient dock. Brian is a single dad and has been home schooling his six year old daughter Dalia for the summer. The next day we were afforded a visit as they passed by, headed to there own anchor spot. They stopped and rafted up for a time, Dalia telling all about her adventures at the aquarium, complete with drawings and giggles. They were heading home tomorrow and wouldn’t be back till next summer. We sent them off with a bag of chocolate chip cookies and a children’s book about fairies. With the slow pulsing of their diesel engine they moved several hundred yards away and anchored for the night. In the morning they were gone. 

Our return to Newport was uneventful, mostly at motor as the winds were only gusts here and there, undependable yet strong enough to catch you off guard and send a cup or plate to the floor. At one point I tried to set a reef in the main. It didn't work. I’ll explain that fiasco another time.​

I hope you are doing well.
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Letters To My Brother

8/24/2016

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8/24
Dear brother,​

So, I promised to tell you about the scary stump.
I first need to explain to you about the Yaquina ‘river’ and Yaquina ‘bay’.
If you take the time to drive to the head waters, the place where there is no longer tidal surge and the water is not salty, Yaquina River is really only about 10-15 feet across at it’s best.

In reality the bay stretches 10-15 miles inland, all the water between Newport and Toledo is sea water. This is what creates such strong tidal flows, all that water moving in and out twice a day. This is what caused my tree problem.

I think it was the fourth night on anchor and the highest tide was around midnight. I didn’t think much of it but this was the highest tide we had had all month. Clouds had moved in at sunset leaving a very dark and quiet night. You could call it spooky if there had been fog. About 1:30 AM I was woken up by the boat being jared hard, as if she ran into something. Now Ava is four tons so to move her enough to wake me is disconcerting. I rushed to get on deck, grabbing a flashlight, just pjs and barefoot. I scanned the port side, a dark night, absolutely silent, and a large ebb tide made it look like the water was rushing by. As I scanned starboard with my light I nearly wet my pants. A stump, upended as if the roots were reaching for the moonless night sky, pushed past the hull in silence. In the setting it first looked bigger then the boat, but as my heart settled I could estimate it to be 6-8 feet across, several roots reaching 3-4 feet into the air. I think this hight above the water scared me more then anything else. First, it was above the sides of the boat. Nothing..nothing floating in the water should be that tall. Second, I realized that to be that tall there was much more to this snag underwater then I could see. It had missed the anchor rode by several feet. What were the chances in a section of the bay hundreds of feet wide?

Ava wasn’t in danger. At worst the twisted wet limbs would have gotten hopelessly twisted in the anchor line and I would have had to cut it loose, forcing us to motor several hours in the dark back to our moorage. The thing is, such an event touches fears a little bit deeper in you then a wayward spider or scary movie. The quiet darkness, swift and silent flow of tide, cold opaque water, moonless sky. These set the stage. Fears can build with each breath. We see nothing so imagine everything. It took me an hour to leave the deck and head below, several more to get to a sound sleep. 

It still makes me smile to think about.

Sleep well.

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Letters To My Brother

8/21/2016

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8/19, Friday
Dear brother,
Our last day at anchor.
It has been seven days. Hard to believe. Staying out that long allows us to test each system, from water to power. Is it enough? Will it last long enough? Is it needed?
There are things to be learned as Summer becomes Fall, then Winter. For now all looks good.
If we don’t conserve, 40 gallons of water is plenty for seven days. I’m working on a salt water system for the galley that will help stretch the fresh water another week. Power is easy during the summer months, the solar panels supply all that is needed. Winter will show what has been missed.
A slow and quiet morning leads to tide change at 2:30. We sail on the tide so this is important. At two the anchor is pulled, the tide fighting us now inconsequential. With a head wind we pull into the channel at 2.5 knots. This changes every 15 minutes as a half a knot is added to our speed. It sounds so slow but when you are out there, watching the land slide past, every increase in boat speed is obvious.
Unlike most days, today we have a schedule and because of that we have little time to sail. A head wind demands lots of tacking. That combined with all the crab pots to dodge ensures we motor all the way.
By the time we pass the Coast Guard station our speed is 4.5 knots and climbing. A turn and tuck brings us into the marina. I put her in neutral two docks away and ghost her into her slip. A final reverse stops us and we are home. 
Again the readjusting to land, the change of pace. There is so much noise.
Next time i’ll tell you about the tree at 1:30 am. It scared the crap out of me.
Be safe, I’ll call as soon as I can.
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Letters to my Brother

8/19/2016

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Today we stayed at anchor, getting little things done. Sarah has been so busy with her next children’s book and I’m thrilled to be here while she creates it. 
So I told you we went in to Sawyers’s landing for ice on Wednesday. On Thursday night the bar at the dock has dollar tacos and $2 beer. With a near perfect tide and wind we decided to pull anchor and head that way.
It sounds simple. The bar is only two miles from where we stay. But everything is new to us and an outgoing tide can be tricky. So there we are, swinging onto the dock with an ebb tide and a NW wind. In hind sight it was a perfect setup for Ava. We rounded the docks and spun her around, bringing her starboard to the dock against the tide flow. I had worried more then needed, our four ton sailboat was happy dealing with the current and wind while we leapt about and tied her up.
The beer was ice cold and the tacos perfect.
Every time we sail or move, each time the anchor is dropped or hauled up, this is when I learn.
I have so much more to share with you.
I hope this finds you well and I hope you enjoy to my sailing adventures.
Dave
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Letters to my Brother

8/19/2016

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8/12/2016
Hi there!

Just wondering how you are doing?
Have you made anymore trips?
The sailing trip up the bay went well. With the weather so nice there are more and more small boats thatI have to watch for and it seems nearly all of them are crabbing. This fills the main channel with floats which are really bad for a sail boat!

​After clearing the marina break water we saw a friend setting sail just in front of us so while passing the NOAH dock I raised the main sail, setting it for down wind sailing. The race was on!

With only the main we quickly caught up and passed the other boat (Ava has really nice sails). They put up their down wind headsail to try and catch us so after threading through lots of crab pot floats I unfurled the Genoa and never looked back.
Due to near perfect winds I only had to jibe twice in the 6 mile trip to try to get as much wind on the beam as I could.
We finally lost all air in the hill's wind shadow so motor on and sails stowed we put-putted the last 200 yards to our anchor spot. 
8/17/16

That was Friday and we are still here anchored up (except for a quick trip for ice at Sawyers landing....gin and tonics). The plan is to head back in this coming Friday afternoon.
I hope this note finds you well.
Dave
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Keeping Watch

8/11/2016

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Simple.
Subtle.
​Sublime.


Quiet.
Reserved.
Sequestered.

Disconnected.

Anchored up, my world is 29 feet by 9.5. Everything else is ‘out there’.
The water passes by, sometimes clear or filled with debris.
Clouds, fog, or sun overhead.
I slow down and watch, and think, and let my mind settle.
Sometimes feet up, sun warming my legs and a drink at hand.
More often a blanket tight against the wind.

No where else have I been able to watch and think and wonder.
Not this clearly.

A school of tens of thousands of small fish swim under the boat, a living pattern of silver.
I breath softly as if they may hear me. A few stragglers and then they are gone.
I smile, now what was I thinking about?
 
I’ve driven by this spot a hundred times without giving it a second thought.
I’m glad I was given the opportunity to anchor there.

Be aware.
Observe.
Watch the world.
Contemplate the universe.

It takes practice. Don’t give up.
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    Learn as if you were to live forever.
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