Aurora Out My Window

Posted on October 13, 2024 by Maria Langer

I see the aurora for the first time — well, sort of — right from the comfort of my own home.

If you pay attention at all to science-related news, you are probably aware that the sun is near the peak of its 11-year solar activity cycle, with lots of sunspots and coronal mass ejections. This has made aurora a lot more visible than usual, making it possibly for people to see it as far south as Arizona and Texas.

I don’t live that far south. I live in north central Washington state. Opportunities to view the aurora abound at my home — which has a perfectly unobstructed view to the north, right to the horizon — but I’ve spent much of the past two years away from home. Ironically, from June through August, I was traveling at latitudes farther north than where my home is, but I just didn’t see the aurora on any nights I might have. I could blame weather (clouds), ambient lighting (being near a city), or a lack of clear view to the north (from trees or mountains).

But when I got home, I became determined to see the aurora from my home.

The Science of the Aurora

I would be remiss if I did not mention the excellent Space Weather and Aurora Dashboard pages constantly updated by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). It provides a wealth of information about the aurora, from forecasts and current conditions to basic and detailed information about what causes the aurora.

For example, NOAA’s Aurora Tutorial page starts its explanation of the aurora like this:

The aurora is formed from interactions between the solar wind streaming out from the sun and Earth’s protective magnetic field, or magnetosphere. The aurora is one manifestation of geomagnetic activity or geomagnetic storms. As the solar wind increases in speed and the interplanetary magnetic field embedded in the solar wind turns southward, the geomagnetic activity will increase and the aurora will become brighter, more active, and move further from the poles. Even moderate solar wind creates aurora so there is usually a weak aurora somewhere even when there isn’t a big geomagnetic storm.
There are two types of solar events that create big geomagnetic storms that are associated with bright and active aurora. The first is a Coronal Mass Ejection, or CME, which can be described as a billion tons of plasma ejected from the sun, traveling at a million miles per hour. When a CME arrives at Earth, it can produce some of the biggest geomagnetic storms and thus, some of the brightest and most active auroras that extend furthest toward the equator. The second solar event that can create moderate sized geomagnetic storms is called a coronal hole. Coronal holes are the source of high speed solar wind streams. When these high speed streams arrive at Earth, they can produce active auroras. But the geomagnetic storms and aurora associated with coronal holes is less active than those from the biggest and fastest CME’s.

Later on that page, it explains what causes the individual colors you might see. This is a great place to start if you want to learn more about how the aurora forms and when viewing is best.

Forecasts < Actual Conditions

My quest to see the aurora started with the forecasts on the Aurora Dashboard page. Each day, NOAA provides a forecast for tonight and tomorrow night. You can see an example in the top two images in the screen capture below. Like any weather forecast, this is a prediction of what might happen based on data and models. In this particular example, the forecast looked good for two nights in a row.

In the early morning hours of October 10, the forecast for that night was a lot more optimistic than reality.

I’ve lost a lot of sleep trying to see the aurora. In this example, the forecast told me it should be visible where I live. But this page also provides a very short term forecast for the next 35 minutes. The image on the left is for the northern hemisphere and it painted a truer picture of the situation. The chances of seeing the aurora where I lived was slim. And, of course, I didn’t see it on the night of October 9-10.

The short term forecast looked a lot better on the night of October 10-11.

But things were different on the night of October 10-11. I knew they were different when my social media feed on Mastodon began filling with aurora photos. I watched the Aurora Dashboard and was rewarded with a very promising short term forecast image. I set up a GoPro pointed mostly at the northern horizon and sky and turned on the night hyperlapse feature. Then I turned off all the lights in my home, including the solar string lights on my deck, and hung out on the deck to watch the sky.

Understand that my home might be 2 miles down a gravel road 10 miles from town, but it has a commanding view of the entire valley, including the brightly lighted cities of Wenatchee and East Wenatchee. This is not a good place for stargazing. No matter how much I tried to get my eyes adjusted to the dark, it simply wasn’t dark. But soon, after a while, I started seeing a reddish glow in the sky. I took a photo with my iPhone 13 Pro — yes, I know it’s time for an update; maybe after Christmas — and was shocked to see auroral streaks of pink lines in the photo.

This was the first photo I took from my deck. It was 7:13 PM, less than an hour after sunset.

For the next few hours, I moved from inside my nice warm (but dark) house to outside on my cool deck. I tried hard to see beyond the faint streaks in the sky, but every time I took a photo, the photo revealed far more than I was seeing. It was out there but my eyes just couldn’t take in enough auroral light to see it very well.

I took this photo a little while later. The predominant colors were a pink and an almost lime green.

Here’s another shot from a while later.

It was rewarding but also frustrating. This was probably the first time in my life when I could photograph something better than I could see it. But I wanted to see it! With my eyes!

The sky started to cloud up a little and my frustration got the better of me. After a while, I gave up.

The Video

This was apparently a mistake. I should have tried again around midnight. How do I know this? Well, remember that GoPro I set up? Here’s what it captured before its battery died:

The Next Aurora Viewing

I’m watching the forecast pages closely. The next time we have a strong forecast, I’ll be ready with multiple cameras — including my Nikon, on a tripod — to capture it. But next time, I’ll set up a lounge chair on the deck, snuggle in a sleeping bag, and watch until I can see it better with my own eyes.

Where am I?

Posted on September 30, 2024 by Maria Langer

I’m off on another, shorter adventure, but I’ll be back to working on projects at home again soon.

I started writing a blog post two weeks ago about my third trip to the Ranger Tugs/Cutwater Rendezvous at Roche Harbor. I had to put it aside because I got busy doing other things, as I seem to do quite often these days. It’s sitting in the app I use to compose and publish my blog posts. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get to it later today. (Note: I finished it this morning after this post. I’m just waiting for someone to turn on their StarLink so I can post them both. Two posts in one day!)

What’s keeping me busy right now is cruising around the San Juan Islands and beyond. After the Rendezvous and a quick trip home to drop off my boat trailer, I returned to my boat, Do It Now, which was waiting for me at Anacortes. I provisioned up and fueled up and headed back out.

You see, my boat does not actually have a “home port” — a place where it lives when I’m not on it. It’s a wanderer, like I’ve become. So unless I wanted to pay a marina $50 to $100 per night for it to sit idle in the water, I needed to take it cruising. That’s what I did.

Where I’ve Been

I explored the San Juan Islands for more than a week, picking up friends for day trips along the way. I visited:

I caught Dungeness crabs at Roche Harbor and Suchia Island. These are from Suchia.
San Juan Island. That’s where the Rendezvous was held. I stayed at the wonderful Roche Harbor Resort, which I believe is one of the best-run marinas I’ve ever visited.
Stuart Island. I took my friend Liz and her dog Suki to Stuart from San Juan Island where she lives. We squeezed onto the dock in Reid Harbor, where I ran into other Ranger Tug owners, including Glen, who has given me tons of advice about my boat. (He has the same model.)
Lopez Island. I spent the night tied to a mooring ball at Spencer Spit, getting my first taste of the convenience of Washington State’s marine parks.
Fidalgo Island. That’s where Anacortes is. I spent one night there, then offloaded a bunch of stuff off the boat, got a one-way rental car to Des Moines (where my truck and trailer were parked), and went home for a few nights. By that time, my summer house-sitter had moved out, leaving the place remarkably clean, and it was a real pleasure to sleep under my own roof. I left just before my current house-sitter arrived and returned to the boat.
Suchia Island. I got a mooring ball in Echo Bay, which quickly filled up with other boats that Friday evening. I caught two Dungeness crabs in a trap I set from my boat’s swim platform.
Point Roberts. While not an island, it’s a weird little Washington State community that can only be reached by boat or by driving through Canada. I picked up a friend and his family there for a day trip to…
Do It Now at the mooring ball at Patos Island.
Patos Island. There was one mooring ball in Active Cove and we grabbed it. We went for a long hike on the island and my dogs got a good chance to run. My friend found a geocache, completing his goal of finding at least one geocache in every Washington State county. (San Juan County was the last.) I also cooked up and shared those Dungeness crabs I’d brought in that morning.
Matia Island. I managed to squeeze into the dock with three other boats at Rolfe Cove. Dogs are not allowed on the trails there, so we didn’t do any hiking. But it was a nice quiet place to spend the night.
James Island. I took another friend and his wife from Anacortes to James Island for a little day trip. More hiking and running for my pups. A great cheese and fresh bread — thanks, Greg! — lunch at a picnic table before a peek at Deception Pass. We saw dolphins or porpoises along the way. One of these days I’ll learn to identify all the marine life around here.

Looking back down at Do It Now from our hike on James Island.
Saddlebag Island. I tried anchoring at Saddlebag Island but didn’t like the conditions so I left.
Guemes Island. I also tried anchoring at Boat Harbor anchorage but again, didn’t like the conditions so I left. (This gave me a real appreciation for mooring balls out on the islands.)
Cypress Island. I picked up a mooring ball at Cypress Head. I went for a nice hike on the head with my pups and rested up from a busy weekend.
I picked enough blackberries for three breakfasts.
Orcas Island. I anchored at Eastsound one night and got a slip at Deer Harbor the next night. I really liked Eastsound and need to go back when I have a whole day to explore the town. The highlight of Deer Harbor was the friendly people, the barbecue place, and picking wild blackberries on a walk.

I ended up on September 20 at Bellingham, where I got a slip courtesy of the folks at San Juan Sailing. That’s where I would begin the cruise I’m on now.

I should point out that most of my stops along the way were at marine parks that were either free or just $15 for the night. Cruising in the San Juans is very affordable if you don’t need a marina. Even then, the marinas I stayed at — notably Cap Sante (in Anacortes) and Deer Harbor (at Orcas) — were reasonably priced.

My Current Adventure

On September 21, I set out as part of a flotilla of six boats cruising from Bellingham to Desolation Sound in British Columbia and back. I’m typing this from an anchorage called Melanie Cove off the BC mainland. So far, we’ve been to:

South Pender Island. We stayed at the Poet’s Cove Marina in Bedwell Harbor, which is where we checked into Canada. There’s a nice resort there with hot springs and hiking trails.
Nanaimo. We stayed at the port there, mostly so we could provision at the supermarket. (Canada limits what you can bring in as far as fresh foods are concerned.) I spent some time visiting shops in town before hitting the supermarket.
Hospital Bay. After an unpleasant crossing of the Strait of Georgia, we spent a night at the wonderfully sheltered John Henry’s Marina.
Cortes Island. Our longest cruise took us up Malaspina Strait (in dense fog) and then up the Strait of Georgia (in much more favorable conditions) to Gorge Harbor in Whaletown. Along the way, we saw colonies of harbor seals and humpback whales.

Two of the flotilla’s boats, both American Tugs, cruising in the fog.
Here we are, rafted at the Octopus Islands. My boat is the smallest one (as usual) but I have no trouble keeping up. (In fact, I’m faster than all of them.)
Octopus Islands. We anchored and rafted a small bay in the Octopus Islands off Quadra Island. We spent two nights there with a very rainy day between them. Highlights included catching some red rock crabs and visiting the “art cabin,” which was full of boat souvenirs and other artwork.
Quadra Island. We spent one night at Taku Resort in Drew Harbor. I’d been there at an anchorage years before with the folks on the David B, but I didn’t remember seeing any marinas. I got some sad news while I was there, which I’ll address in another post, but also bought some provisions and picked some wild blackberries while walking with my dogs and two other boaters.
Prideaux Haven. That’s where we are now, at Melanie Cove, anchored and rafted again. We went for a group hike into the mountains yesterday on what became a picture-perfect day.

I flew my drone to capture a few images of a picture-perfect day at Melanie Cove. Our boats are rafted in the lower right corner of the image.

But we’re not done yet! Destinations lie ahead:

Texada Island. We’ll stay at at Sturt Bay.
Gabriola Island. We’ll stay at a resort marina at Silva Bay.
Saltspring Island. We’ll stay at a marina at Ganges Harbor.
Lummi Island. Back in the US, we’ll spend a last night at anchor at Inati Bay.

The trip ends on October 4 at Bellingham, where we started. By that time, I should have a long year of cruising out of my system and be ready for a rest.

And That’s My Excuse

This cruising schedule is my excuse for not blogging as much as I’d really like to. I don’t write as quickly as I used to — I’m so easily distracted these days. (Who isn’t?) I want to spend more of my time enjoying the things I do instead of writing about them.

But I have a lot of writing and video production ahead of me — did I mention that I’ve been recording video footage nearly every cruising day? I’ve decided to spend this winter at home for the first time since moving to Washington — sorry, John*! — and to fill my days catching up on content creation, making new jewelry inventory, and exploring new craft hobbies, including paper making, paper marbling, and bookbinding.

And, of course, prepping Do It Now for another season of cruising in the Pacific Northwest. April is only six months away.

PostScript

I finished this blog post shortly after 5 AM this morning. (I wake up very early.) It was still dark outside so I went up to Do It Now‘s command bridge. One of the great things about these remote anchorages out in the islands is how dark they are. Other than the anchor lights of boats, there are no ground lights to foul the sky. I sat for a few moments, waiting for my eyes to adjust. I saw the bright stars right away; the brightest thing in the sky right now is Jupiter which was almost straight up. Then I saw the dimmer stars and familiar constellations such as Orion. I saw the Milky Way, which I hadn’t seen well in over a month. And I saw satellites and a shooting star.

I love my home, but the nearby glow of Wenatchee makes it unsuitable for serious star gazing. It’s nice to get out and away from all those lights. When I’m done with my boat travels, I’m going to settle down back in the desert, away from city lights, and look up at the stars any time I can.

—
* John is my ever-faithful winter house-sitter who has been watching over my place for most winters since around 2016. He’s at my place now and I don’t think he’s happy about hitting the road in about a week.

The Ranger Tug Rendezvous, 2024 Edition

Posted on September 30, 2024 by Maria Langer

The event that got me to drive 4200 miles with covid.

I’m not what you’d consider a very social person. I like spending time alone, doing things I enjoy doing.

But I do like to meet up with people who share common interests, especially if I can learn something from them. That’s what appeals most to me about the annual Ranger Tug/Cutwater Rendezvous hosted by Fluid Motion, LLC, maker of Ranger Tug, Cutwater, and Solara boats. By gathering together hundreds of Ranger Tug and Cutwater boat owners with their boats and providing manufacturer seminars and support opportunities, Fluid Motions has made it impossible to attend without learning something of value — meeting lots of great people along the way.

Best of all, this Rendezvous isn’t an obvious money grab by an organization in the business of cashing in on people’s desire for information. (Great Loop Cruisers might know an organization like that.) The cost is just $90/person and includes a nice bag of swag and lots of games, contests, and social events, with food and even alcoholic beverages. Fluid Motions isn’t making money on this event. It’s giving its customers an opportunity to gather, show off their boats, and learn.

Once I became a Ranger Tug owner, it made sense to attend the Rendezvous whenever possible. In fact, since it was so close to where I lived, it would be kind of dumb to miss it.

The Backstory

In early September 2022, I took delivery of my 2019 Ranger Tug R-29 CB, which I named Do It Now. My very first trip with it was a cruise to the Ranger Tug/Cutwater Rendezvous at Roche Harbor on San Juan Island. It was a long trip from Olympia to Roche Harbor and I did half of it solo. But I had an excellent time at the Rendezvous, where I met some great people and learned a ton.

In 2023, I was home for the summer — I hadn’t retired yet — and my boat was on the hard on Kent Island near Annapolis in Maryland. I still went to the Rendezvous. My work season was over and I’d decided to stay home until the end of September so I could blow out my irrigation lines before heading back to my boat. I took my Honda S2000 to Anacortes, drove it onto the ferry, and drove off at Friday Harbor. I stayed at a friend’s place on the island with my pups and drove to the Rendezvous every day. Most of my friends from the previous year were there and we had a good time. I participated more in social events and even did pretty well in the Scavenger Hunt.

Fast forward to 2024. From the very beginning of the year, when I was cruising in Florida, I knew I wanted to return to the Rendezvous with Do It Now. That desire basically set a deadline for my completion of the Great Loop: I needed to be done by mid-August to have enough time to haul the boat back to Washington State before the event, which is held at the end of Labor Day week. Heck, by that time I’d probably feel done with the Loop anyway. (Spoiler alert: I sure did.)

Roche Harbor Resort & Marina

I should mention here that Roche Harbor is one of those marinas that gets everything right. They have a large, well-trained staff of dockhands to help boaters in. The cost of power and water is including in the dock price — I am so tired of paying extra for power! — and they even set up power extension cords to reach the boats at the end of the dock, like mine. The floating docks are in very good condition. There are garbage and recycling bins in multiple places right on the docks and they are never allowed to fill, let alone overflow. The restrooms are clean, although you do have to feed quarters into the showers. In-slip pumpout, courtesy of the Fecal Freak pumpout boat, is free. There are several restaurants and a very well stocked grocery store that handles everything from milk and fresh veggies to wine and fishing gear. (Amazingly, the prices are fair.) Their evening Colors ceremony, which plays music as each flag is lowered, is a heart-warming end to the day. Of course, the marina isn’t cheap, but I’ve paid a lot more for a lot less during my Great Loop travels.

Although I’d originally had the boat hauled out to Chicago with a boat transport company, I’d bought a boat trailer in late June 2023 and planned to haul it back myself. I was nervous about it — hauling a 14,000 pound wide load 2200 miles? But, if you’ve read my post about the the hoops I jumped through (with covid), you’ll know that it wasn’t quite as big an ordeal as I’d expected it to be. I got the boat back in time for the event.

I arrived at the Rendezvous just before sunset on Wednesday. I might have been the last boat in that day. I got a slip on the guest dock, which was packed three boats deep at most slips. I was immediately greeted by my neighbors, most of whom were having dinner. The event officially started in the morning, but Roche Harbor Resort and Marina was offering a deal where you’d pay for three nights and get the fourth for free. So just about everyone arrived on Wednesday.

I sent up my drone on Thursday morning, as soon as the docks were in full sun. Ranger Tugs and Cutwater boats filled the long guest dock in the foreground. The total boat count for the event was 220.

Day 1 of the Rendezvous

I attended the Volvo seminar, which had been so good the previous two years, on Thursday. It was terrible. For some reason, they had a marketing guy do a lot of the speaking and he focused in on the IPS systems that come with the Volvo engines on the R-43. The R-43 is a $1.2 million twin engine masterpiece that only 4 people in the audience owned. How do I know this? He asked us and four people raised hands. Yet 20+ minutes of his presentation talked about the amazing features of the Volvo system for these engines, leaving the rest of us wondering whether they’d ever get to anything of interest to us. The other mistake they made was taking questions about specific issues individuals were having with their engines. More time wasted on information that didn’t apply to most of us. By the time they did get around to general Volvo Penta D4 and D6 information, there wasn’t much time left. I was disappointed.

The Learning Center was set up in tents on Roche Harbor’s big lawn.

I stayed at the Learning Center tent for the next presentation, which was about salmon fishing and crabbing in the San Juan Islands. Now that my boat was back on the west coast, I wanted to rig it for salmon fishing. And I’d also brought along the folding crab trap I’d bought from another rendezvous attendee the previous year and wanted to see what I could catch. The seminar was informative and I learned a lot. I also won two prizes for answering questions correctly: a downrigger clip and a lure.

I had no interest in the rest of the day’s seminars so I went back to my boat, got out my crab trap, and assembled it. A quick trip to the general store got me the weighted line, buoy, bait holder, and crab gauge I needed to set my trap. The only thing I didn’t have was bait, but the folks parked behind me generously offered me two of their cheap chicken leg/thigh pieces. I stuffed the bait holder, closed up the trap, and loaded it onto my dinghy with my pups. We motored out to a spot near the larger of the two harbor inlets where there were already a lot of crab traps. I found a spot that wasn’t too close to any of the others and lowered the trap into the water.

I went to the evening’s even, a “chip and dip.” Folks were hitting floating golf balls to a barge with a green set up on it. There was wine and beer and very light snacks. I didn’t feel like socializing — I think I was still tired from the previous day’s cruise — so I went back to my boat and made dinner. I was asleep by nine.

Crabbing

In the morning, after breakfast, I motored out to pull up my crab trap. It was heavy. I was shocked to see at least eight crabs in or on it. These are Dungeness crabs so even the small ones aren’t really that small. Most of them were either female or too small so I threw them all back. One was a keeper, but barely; I think it was about 1/8 inch larger than it had to be. Unfortunately, a very large female was stuck in the netting of my trap. The only way to get her back into the water was to cut her loose and I didn’t have a knife with me. I headed back and ran into two men pulling their own traps. One of them had a knife and I cut the net to let her loose. Then I went back to the boat with the trap and my sole keeper, feeling pretty proud of myself.

Until my neighbor brought in a bigger one.

He showed me how to kill and clean them and I cooked them in a pot on my stove. (He said his wife wouldn’t let him cook them inside because they are stinky.) I delivered his cooked crab and had mine for a snack. That’s when I realized that the legal size really wasn’t that big. I’d need to catch bigger ones. And I wasn’t happy about how the netting on my trap tangled up the crabs.

I don’t do selfies often, but this is a pretty funny one. My dinghy is small and I barely fit in it with the new trap. In this shot, I’m motoring back out to set it.

I went to the general store and bought myself a new crab trap. I got another chicken leg/thigh, baited it up, and set it right about where the other one had been.

Day 2 of the Rendezvous

I didn’t attend any sessions that day. There was a Great Loop session done by a couple who had finished the Loop last year. I’d wanted to do a session but they had requested it before me. I thought about going but realized that if they said things I didn’t agree with — like how you had to join AGLCA to be a Looper — I’d either shoot off my mouth or get pissed off. And since so many of the folks on the Loop are sheep who just follow along with what other people tell them, I fully expected to hear that. So I skipped it.

The other sessions I skipped were about the Yamaha engine (which I did not have), ceramic coatings (which I did not want to buy), insurance (which was led by my insurance broker), and women in boating (which was basic boating info for wives).

When it all got down to it, I didn’t really do anything related to the Rendezvous that day. I didn’t even attend the evening margarita cocktail hour.

Instead, I spent most of the day writing two blog posts, one about finishing the Great Loop for my Great Loop blog and one about getting the boat back to Washington for this blog.

Day 3 of the Rendezvous

Saturday was the last day of the rendezvous. Not only would there be a few sessions in the Learning Center tent, but all of the contests that had been going on — salmon fishing, crabbing, cornhole, etc. — would wrap up.

I had a busy day, even though I didn’t attend any of the sessions.

Crabbing, Part 2

Now that’s a big crab.

Following my neighbor’s advice, I didn’t pull up my crab trap until morning. I did it right after breakfast. It was very heavy and, again, had at least eight crabs on board. This time, four of them were keepers: two very large ones and two that were slightly larger than legal size.

The trap still had bait so I lowered it back into the water. Then I motored back to show off my success. My neighbors were impressed. I was impressed with the very big ones. I threw the two smaller ones back into the water, put some clean water into the cooler where I was keeping the crabs, and hurried off to set up my Artisan Fair booth.

The Artisan Fair

I’m a silversmith and I make silver jewelry with gemstone cabochons and beads. I hadn’t sold much that year because I was traveling. I did have my inventory with me on the boat and I made a nice wholesale sale to the Silver Peddler on Bald Head Island. But beyond that, it was just consignment sales to the two galleries selling my work in Washington state.

I’d brought along a mini booth setup the previous year and had sold about $1000 worth of pendants, earrings, and bracelets. I was hoping to do the same that year. So I set up my booth, put on some nicer clothes, and settled down for 2 1/2 hours to show and sell my jewelry.

Here’s my table at the Artisan Fair. I put out only a small selection of pendants and earrings.

Sales were slow. I have a feeling that not many people knew about this activity. There had been a better turnout the previous year. The other “artists” were also experiencing slow sales. The woman next to me, who sold very nicely made small tables for the boat, gave out a lot of flyers but didn’t sell a single one. Even the woman across from me, who was selling t-shirts with pithy boating-related slogans on them, was having a slow sale day.

In the end, I wound up selling about $350 worth of jewelry — mostly earrings. Barely worth the effort I’d put into it.

Fish & Crabs

While sitting at my Artisan Fair table, I chatted briefly with a guy who had just come in with fish for the salmon tournament. I think he had about 10 fish ranging from 18 inches up to more than 2 feet. I jokingly asked if I could have one of the small ones. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll fillet it for you.” I also asked for some fish heads for bait in my crab traps. So that’s how I wound up with two huge fillets and three giant fish heads.

I closed up my booth and went back to my boat. I put on comfy clothes and took my two big crabs to be weighed. I didn’t really think of them as contest entries, but when they each weighed in at more than 2 pounds, I was suddenly in the running. One of them had weighed 2 pounds, 9.6 ounces — the biggest so far that day!

My second crab catch that day. Most of these were small but one weighed in at 2 pounds.

I took them back to the boat, then took the dinghy out to fetch the trap. Even though it had only been out for about 4 hours, it was full of crabs again, including yet another very large one. I let all the other ones go, including at least one legal male. The new crab weighed in at exactly 2 pounds. I brought it back to the boat, borrowed my neighbor’s crab pot — my large pot was too small — killed and cleaned them, and then cooked them. I had to turn on the small outside fridge to store them in. (I would finish them off over the next few days, mostly sharing them with friends.)

Rodeo Themed Night

How long had it been since I wore that Jacket? I’m thinking 2013. I was surprised it still fit as well as it did.

The theme of the event was rodeo — Why ride a horse when you can drive a Ranger? — and I’d come prepared for the final evening’s event, which would grant awards for the best outfit. Blue jeans with a blank tank top, black leather cowboy boots with silver tips and heel trim, a real Resistol hat, and a deerskin jacket made for me by a friend years ago that included fringe, elkhorn buttons, and hair from my own horses. I was definitely ahead of the game compared to most other folks who just wore cowboy hats and/or boots and/or bandanas to be western. But in the end I was beat out by the man wearing true western chaps and boots, a retired rancher.

The event was held in the learning center area, which had been set up with tables and chairs. Once again, the caterers had pre-portioned our food for us, giving us “western bowls” that had a little of about six different things, none of which were healthy. They were edible, however, and I pretty much cleared my bowl. Andrew Custis, the same man who had given me a tour of the Kent factory and offered me a kickass deal on an end-of-season R-27 years ago, did a little speech thanking the folks who needed thanking. Then they gave out prizes for contest winners. I was thrilled to win another crab trap setup with a pair of $25 Amazon gift cards for the biggest crab caught on Saturday; I went from one junky one to two good ones in the span of two days. (I gave one of the gift cards to my neighbor who had given me bait for my trap and lessons on how to kill the crabs quickly.) They also raffled off a bunch of other stuff.

When that ended, they brought up a team to teach line dancing. Since I hadn’t had enough alcohol to make that something that interested me, I went back to my boat, stopping to fetch my new trap setup along the way.

My neighbors showed up a little later. Someone mentioned that they’d missed the Artisan Fair. Could I show her my jewelry. I did and she bought a bunch. Then I showed another neighbor and she bought some, too. That brought the day’s total to very close to what I’d sold the previous year. I was glad about that;

By then it was dark and I was tired. I wound up calling it a day.

Goodbyes

The event was officially over and boats started leaving as soon as it got light on Sunday morning. I was in no hurry. I was going to spend the night at Spencer Spit on Lopez island, one of the first of many anchorages and mooring fields I stay in before putting the boat to bed for the winter. Before that, I was taking my friend Liz, who lives on San Juan Island, for a day trip to nearby Stuart Island.

Not everyone else was willing to wait. Because they’d put us on the dock three deep and I was on the outside, I had to start up and move out of the way so the people closer in could get out. Soon it was a parade of Ranger Tugs and Cutwater boats heading out, some of them stopping along the way for fuel.

I called for a pumpout. One of the things I love about the PNW is that they’re so interested in keeping waste out of the water that every marina pumpout is free. They drove over with the Fecal Freak pumpout boat and took care of it while I was still in my slip. I tipped the guy, glad he was doing it for me. He even let me rinse it out once, which I appreciated.

By that time, Liz had arrived. I loaded us all up and headed out.

It had been another good event, but I sorely missed my friends, Cyndi, Joan, Tony, and Mark, from the previous two Rendezvous events. I hope I can see them all again next year.

Getting Do It Now Home

Posted on September 6, 2024 by Maria Langer

I finish my Great Loop trip and jump through all necessary hoops to get my boat back to Washington State, battling covid along the way.

If you’ve been following this blog or my Great Loop trip blog, you know that since October 2022 I’ve been cruising with my boat, Do It Now, along the Great Loop. You can learn more about the trip in that blog.

I finished the trip — or “crossed my wake” — on August 12, 2024. That was in Chicago, IL, which is where I began the trip. I’d had my boat shipped out there from Olympia by a boat shipping company. Since then, I’d bought a boat trailer for it and planned to haul it back to Washington myself. This would be a 3 part (or)deal: fly home with my pups, haul the empty trailer back to the Chicago area (2000 miles), and haul the boat back to Puget Sound (2150 miles).

Chicago to Malaga

Deep dish pizza at the Navy Pier. I was a total tourist.

I spent Monday and Tuesday in Chicago taking care of personal chores. I needed an eye exam and my pups needed grooming. I had Chicago deep dish pizza, which I really like.

On Wednesday, I cruised to Waukegan, where I planned to have the boat hauled out when I returned with the trailer. When I arrived, I was pretty sick with classic flu-like symptoms. I took a Covid test and, for the first time ever, got a positive result.

Shit.

I flew home (masked) with Covid on Thursday. I got a prescription for Paxlovid that cost a small fortune. Because my housesitter would be living in my house until month-end, I stayed in my truck camper in the garage. It was comfortable. The air conditioning worked great and was needed. The new garage bathroom was very good.

I spent a lot of time sleeping. My body clock got completely screwed up. NyQuil became my evening elixir, helping me sleep.

I used my Jeep to get the trailer out of the garage.

On Monday, I felt good enough to get the boat trailer out of the garage. I needed to use the Jeep, which has a hitch on the front. I honestly don’t know how I got it in there — I had a heck of a time getting it out. Then I packed the truck with the things I’d need to come home, including the “Oversize Load” banners and a long tape measure.

I still tested positive for Covid.

On Tuesday morning, I was ready to go. I’d decided to stop and have my local trailer guy check things over before I left. I showed up there at 7:30 AM. He looked it over and found some problems with wheels and one of the brakes. I kicked myself for not bringing it by sooner, then unhitched it, left it with him, and went home.

Driving East

On Wednesday morning, still testing positive for Covid, I went to pick up the trailer and start the 2,000 mile trip to Waukegan. I would take I-90 almost all the way. It would give me an opportunity to review the route before I headed west with the boat in tow.

The boat trailer is about 36 feet long. It’s a bumper pull so wide turns are required. I fueled up with the big rig truckers at truck stops.

I fueled at truck stops.

My dogs and I stayed at crappy cheap motels along the way. Covid was a definite issue; I still had plenty of symptoms and was exhausted at the end of each day. We’d get to the hotel, I’d walk my pups, I’d drag my luggage in, I’d feed my pups, I’d walk them again, and then we’d all go to bed, usually before 8 PM.

In the morning, I’d wake before dawn. When it got light, I’d feed and walk my pups and then put them in the truck. If the motel offered breakfast, I’d choke down some cooked powered eggs and greasy sausage. Then I’d go back to my room, get my luggage, drag it back to the truck, and leave.

I got decent mileage — about 15 mpg. I was fueling once or twice a day, getting at least 500 miles behind me each day.

On Saturday, when I got close, I stopped at a Discount Tire to get my truck’s tires rotated and the trailer tires checked and properly inflated. The trailer tires had plenty of tread, so I figured they’d be fine.

I stopped at a Walmart supermarket for provisions.

At Waukegan

We arrived at the boat yard in Waukegan on Saturday afternoon. The yard was closed. Fortunately, I had a key card from my previous stay that opened the gate.

I spent the weekend prepping the boat to be hauled — all the canvas and the mast and antenna had to be taken down and any seat covers had to be secured. It was brutally hot — there was a heat wave in the Chicago area — and I could only work in short bursts with rest and cool-down periods in between. It took all day Sunday to get the boat 90% ready. I’d take care of the other 10% on Monday morning.

I ordered my Oversize Load permits on Sunday. The woman at JJ Keller who helped me was not the sharpest knife in the drawer. She asked me dumb questions, insisted I needed a DOT number that I didn’t need, and then gave me misinformation about my route. But the permits started arriving via email the first thing Monday morning.

I was still testing positive for Covid, although my symptoms had faded to just a cough.

On Monday, around midday, they hauled the boat out and put it on the trailer. That was a fiasco. The trailer, which had originally hauled someone else’s much older R-29, had the bunkers set up for a different hull configuration. It took the guys at the marina three hours to figure that out. In the meantime, we kept launching and retrieving the boat on the boat ramp. The bow of the boat struck the front of the trailer frequently enough to cause some damage to the gelcoat.

They started out okay, using the Travelift to pull the boat out.

Finally, by 4 PM, the boat was secure on the trailer. Of course, it was too late for me to leave so I wound up spending the night in the boat, parked on the ramp in front of the marina.

It took all afternoon to get the boat on the trailer and it still wasn’t quite right.

I took a cool shower to cool down before going to bed. I didn’t care that the water splashed out onto the asphalt in front of the building.

Driving West

I got underway at sunrise on Tuesday morning. I was still testing positive for Covid, but I was feeling much better. The only symptom was a cough that came and went. There wasn’t even that much phlegm.

I went through my first weigh station less than 10 miles from my starting point. I rolled onto the scale and a voice came through a loudspeaker, asking if I was hauling the Minnow from Gilligan’s Island. I told him I hoped not. The light turned green and I rolled out.

One flat gave me the idea I was towing a time bomb.

I got a flat tire on the trailer four hours into the drive. Fortunately, BoatUS sent out a tire change guy for me. He pointed out that although the tread looked fine, the tires were six years old. I suddenly felt as if I were towing a time bomb. How long before another tire blew? So rather than just get the spare replaced, I drove directly to a Discount Tire an hour away and had all six trailer tires replaced.

My rig couldn’t fit into the garage at Discount Tire.

I spent the first night at a truck stop in Rapid City, SD. I arrived after sunset and the place was jam packed. By some miracle, I was able to back my rig into a narrow semi parking spot. I still can’t believe I did it after the day I’d had.

I can’t believe I parked here.

In the morning of Day 2, it was very foggy. I didn’t get started until almost 10 AM.

Later, while climbing a steep hill in hot weather, the Check Engine light went on. The truck seemed to drive okay, but I started rethinking the route the idiot at JJ Keller had given me. Because Google Maps takes people off I-90 and onto US 212, a slightly shorter route through the Crow Indian reservation, before rejoining I-90, I would be away from the Interstate for several hours. I had been on Route 212 before and I knew that there were very few facilities along the way. If the truck decided to die, dying on that route would not be optimal. So I decided to ignore the route and stay on I-90, even though my permits said I’d be on US 212.

Of course, that caused raised eyebrows at a truck weight station I did need to get out at in Wyoming. Although I’d purchased my permit the day before — it was the only state JJ Keller couldn’t buy the permit for — my permit showed the wrong route. I explained my dilemma and the folks there just updated my permit with the new route and sent me on my way.

I pulled into a watercraft inspection station in Wyoming near the end of the day and waited while they inspected the hull and bilge. (For the record, I’d had the hull power washed and bilge cleaned when it was taken out of Lake Michigan.) They didn’t find anything, but they wanted to attach a hose to my engine water intake and have me run the engine. I said no. I told them there was no way that I’d start an engine that cost $25K to $40K to replace unless the boat was in the water. They were fine with that.

The first watercraft inspection station I stopped at was in Wyoming.

But by the time they’d finished searching the boat, it was too late to get to my destination 150 miles away. The rest area where they’d inspected me was very nice so I just spent the night there. It was wonderfully quiet.

I parked overnight at a really nice rest stop.

This is the part that caused the Check Engine light to come on.

On Day 3, I hunted down a place that could read the code for the check engine light. It was an air intake temperature sensor. I was at O’Reilly and bought the part for $30. They gave me instructions on replacing it, but I didn’t feel comfortable doing it myself. I tried a Ford dealer and another car fixit place in Sheridan, WY but neither one was willing to do the 10 minute job without making me wait at least two weeks. Jeez! I continued on my way.

This boat lock is a bad joke.

I got to the Montana watercraft inspection station late in the day, still about 100 miles from that night’s destination. They found zebra mussels on my trim tabs. At least a dozen very tiny ones. They delayed me for more than an hour while they sprayed down the entire hull with hot water. Then they did something I considered ridiculous: they locked my boat to the trailer with a cable lock that any decent bolt cutter would cut right through.

They washed down the hull of the boat with 140°+ water.

When they finally let me go, I was able to do another 25 miles before stopping at a truck stop for the night. I walked to the restaurant next door for an Asian chicken salad to go. When I got back to the boat, I discovered there was no dressing on the salad. It was that kind of night.

In the morning, I started before dawn. It was day 4 and I was eager to get to my destination at Des Moines, WA before 4 PM, so they could launch the boat before the holiday weekend. But it was not to be. I had two more watercraft inspection stations.

Idaho didn’t find anything and let me go after stamping Montana’s paperwork.

Thirty miles later, Washington’s crew found a few more mussels. They sprayed down the boat again. This was where things could get ugly; they had the power to force me to keep the boat out of the water for 30 days. I pointed out that the boat was going into salt water, which would kill any remaining mussels. Finally, after pouring hot water into my bilge (which the bilge pump eventually removed), they unlocked the boat and let me go.

But that time, there was no way I’d get to Des Moines before 4 PM. I rolled up at 5, unlocked the gate, and backed my rig in. I spent the night right there.

I parked for the night in the boatyard.

The Des Moines Fiasco

Because it was Labor Day weekend and I’d already seen the eastbound traffic the previous afternoon, I was in no hurry to get into Saturday morning traffic to get home. So I stayed at the marina and spent the entire morning reinstalling all my canvas, lines, fenders, and anything else I needed to get the boat ready to go. Finally, around 1 PM, I headed home, making a stop at Trader Joe’s along the way.

It was a three-hour drive, which actually seemed short after all the driving I’d been doing.

My house sitter was gone so I went right into my house. He’d left it pretty clean, although using the vacuum did not seem to be part of his clean up process. I didn’t care. There were clean sheets on the bed. I made myself some dinner and was asleep by 8 PM.

Did I mention I still tested positive for Covid?

I left home at 5 AM on Tuesday so I could get to the marina early enough to get the boat into the water. When I did some heavy braking in traffic near Seattle, that check engine light went off. (Go figure, huh?)

I stopped at a supermarket for provisions along the way.

I got to the marina right around 9:15 AM. I stopped in the office to tell them I was there and ask them to look at the damage on my bow.

It cost me $300 to have the damage to the bow ground out (shown here) and then filled and painted. I have to give the worker credit, though. He did an excellent job.

They came out to look 2 hours later. They fixed the damage 3 hours after that. So now the boat had fresh paint beneath the waterline. They could not launch it that day. All thoughts of a quiet anchorage that night on my way to Roche Harbor evaporated.

As for my thruster battery, which I’d told them the week before needed replacing, they did not have the battery on hand and insisted on wasting time “diagnosing” the problem. I paid $350 for them to tell me I needed a new thruster battery. (Duh.) Then I paid more than $500 for the battery, which they did not have until noon the next day. So instead of launching my boat on Tuesday so I could have a nice, leisurely cruise from Des Moines to Roche Harbor — a distance of about 85 nautical miles — I had to haul ass out of Des Moines and run at top speed to get there before sunset on the same day.

And don’t even get me started on the vehicle parking issues at Des Moines. I had to get a special permit to park my truck and trailer for the 5 days I’d be cruising in the San Juan Islands. Normally, they don’t allow overnight parking at all.

I was very disappointed with CSR South services and the marina’s parking policy. I will not be back with my boat. I’ve already arranged for a one-way car rental from Anacortes to fetch my truck. I’ll use Anacortes as my base until it’s time to pull the boat out for the winter.

The only good news: I tested negative for covid on Tuesday morning.

Determination and Going it Alone

Posted on August 7, 2024 by Maria Langer

A chat with a fellow boater starts me thinking about the importance of independency.

[Note: I wrote this post at least two weeks ago and, when I was done, I decided not to publish it. I thought it might be a bit too self-serving. But then I had an exchange with another user on Mastodon today, after my (solo, of course) cruise across Lake Michigan. You can see a screen grab of the exchange below. I decided that it was very much related to the rest of the content in this post — the elephant in the room, so to speak — so I decided to add it and publish the whole damn thing. – ML]

Lately, I’ve been meeting a lot of people on my Great Loop trip — more people than I’d met on my journeys down the inland waterways and up the ICW. People are going out of their way to meet me and chat with me. Most of them are impressed that I’ve been doing the trip (mostly) alone. These people are invariably couples and they are blown away by what they consider an amazing achievement.

A Rockstar? I don’t think so.

But it all came to a head yesterday when I was in a restaurant in Killarney, ON and a couple at a nearby table called me over as I was leaving.

They recognized my boat by its name and had seen me on it. Apparently, there’s some talk going around about me among the other Great Loop cruisers. A woman doing the Loop alone!

The wife of this couple told me I was a “rockstar” among the Loopers. That’s pretty hard to believe, since I don’t participate in any of the online forums most Loopers are drawn to. But okay, I’ll take it.

Cruising the Great Loop as a Learning Experience

We chatted for a while about cruising and the Loop and the percentage of people who jump into this 6000+ mile journey with little or no boating experience. The husband of this couple had boating experience similar to mine before buying his current boat, a Mainship: growing up around small boats and owning a few throughout his life.

But there are far too many people who start the Great Loop with little or no boating experience on a boat that’s brand new to them. Some folks even sell their boats as they’re finishing up the Loop but continue to cruise to the end, looking forward to the day they can be done and leave their boat for good. I find that mind-boggling.

I met a couple along the Trent-Severn Waterway who had begun their cruise near St. Louis and claimed they “felt done” by the time they were in Florida — not even 1/4 way through the trip! They were selling their boat the day I met them, but wouldn’t turn it over to the new owner until they got to St. Louis moths later. I’m still trying to figure out why they continued a trip they apparently weren’t enjoying. This is pleasure boating, folks; it shouldn’t feel like a chore or an ordeal.

We talked about how much experience a boater can get from a Great Loop trip — that’s actually the number one reason why this trip has meant so much to me. Simply said, it’s made me a good boat captain. How can it not? Navigating more than 7500 nautical miles (so far) on rivers, lakes (including Great Lakes), canals, the Gulf of Mexico, the Intracoastal Waterways, and the Atlantic Ocean. Dealing with locks, bridges, other boaters, and marinas. Cruising in weather from severe clear and calm to thunderstorms with hail. Resolving minor (fortunately) mechanical issues, like losing a stern thruster or having a bilge pump that won’t operate automatically. Having to find and make good stops to refuel, buy groceries, get water, dump garbage, refill propane tanks, and do laundry.

How can all this not make you a better boat captain and all around long distance cruiser?

Determination?

And then one of them said, “You must be pretty determined to do this trip by yourself.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. I never thought of myself being determined to cruise the Great Loop. I just saw it as the boating world equivalent of a classic road trip, like cruising Route 66 or driving up the California Coast. I thought about the experience of visiting all the places along the way, seeing how people live, checking out the local history, eating the local foods. I thought about the challenges of planning and navigating a course, dealing with weather, and living the confined space of a boat. I thought that a boat trip that somehow started and ended in the same place without backtracking would be a great adventure — before I even knew the Great Loop existed.

The Great Loop has never been a “bucket list” item for me, something I can brag about to friends. I’m not going to hang a gold flag sold by a for-profit “club” that exists solely to separate cruisers from their money. Heck, most of my friends don’t know what the Great Loop is and, if they’re not boaters, they don’t really care.

So have I been “determined” to finish the Great Loop? For me, the goal isn’t the achievement of “crossing my wake.” It’s the journey and what I can take away from it to make me a better person.

The Solo Aspect

The Woman Thing
Here’s the exchange I had with another Mastodon user today that sums up my thoughts on the “female aspect” of my situation, which, frankly, I’m pretty fucking sick of dealing with. Read it to understand why.

It’s the solo aspect that everyone seems to focus on. This conversation really brought that point home to me.

Honestly, I don’t think that doing this trip solo is a big deal. In so many ways, I think it’s better than doing it with a companion. Not only do I get to make all of the decisions — and change my mind as often as I want to — but I don’t have to deal with the pet peeves we all develop when traveling with someone else.

I like to travel alone. I’ve been doing it since the 1980s in my first corporate job and, even when I had a “life partner,” I often made trips by myself. So there’s no part of traveling alone that’s unusual to me. It’s traveling with a companion that’s odd and somewhat difficult at times.

Yes, there are additional challenges when you’re driving a boat by yourself. There’s no one else to handle the lines or put down the fenders when docking or sit at the helm while you take a pee or make a sandwich. (And no one to make a sandwich for you.)

But can’t we all rise to the challenge? Having to deal with fenders and lines while docking alone has forced me to learn how to control my boat in confined spaces — I’m basically forced to get the boat up next to the dock at a near standstill so I can step off with a line and secure it. (There is no jumping on the dock from my boat and very little tossing lines to strangers, since half of them don’t know what they’re doing.) Having no one around to take the wheel when nature calls has taught me a few tricks for leaving the helm briefly while under way without dropping an anchor. And when I know I have a long cruise ahead of me, I make lunch in the morning, before I leave, so all I have to do is fetch it out of the fridge.

It’s problem solving. How do you do the work of two people when you’re just one person? You find ways to make it work. That’s part of the challenge of cruising. That’s part of what makes it interesting to me.

And let’s be real: having a second person aboard who doesn’t know or care about helping out when “needed” is worse than being alone on board. (I’ve been in that situation and it sucks.)

The other question I get a lot is about whether I get lonely. The answer, for the most part, is no. I’ve been alone for so much of my life that I’m used to it. I keep busy. I don’t have time to be lonely. The only thing that makes me a little sad is that I can’t share this incredible adventure with someone I can talk to about it in the years to come.

I’m not the only solo cruiser out there

I also want to mention here that I am not the only person doing this trip solo. Nagui, who I met while cruising last year, completed the loop solo in his Rosborough, Boundless.

I’ve also met Matt on Seaview, Ed on Freedom, Mark on Brandywine, Michelle on Plan B, Chris on Brown Eyed Girl, Bob on Bayleaf, and Harry on a homebuilt sailboat whose name I can’t remember. (Get boat cards, folks!) My apologies to the folks I missed in this list. While not all of these people might be “doing the Loop,” they are all on long-term cruises that require them to do everything that needs doing.

Independence > Dependence

Meanwhile, I feel bad for the folks who think they can’t go it alone. The people who depend on the company of someone else to do things.

I’m not just talking about cruising, either. I’m talking about the things we do in everyday life: dining out, going to the movies, attending live events (do you know how easy it is to get an excellent seat for concerts and shows when you’re a party of one?), traveling, and participating in social activities that may include mostly couples. If you’re single and think you can’t do the things you want to do by yourself, why the hell not? Why depend on the presence or moral support of another person when you’re perfectly capable of doing things on your own? Be independent!

And the only thing worse than feeling as if you can’t do things alone is feeling that you can’t do anything without the partner you might already have, someone who simply doesn’t want to do anything you want to do. Been there, done that! Got a ball and chain? Cut it loose! Live the life you want on your terms.

The End is Near

My trip is coming to an end. I’ll be done in less than a month now. Yesterday, I spent a few hours planning the rest of my route and the stops along the way. I wanted to make sure I could finish it on time — I created a deadline when I bought plane tickets to get home. Unless there’s some crazy bad weather ahead of me when I hit Lake Michigan, I should be fine, with a handful of days to spare in case I need to change plans.

I’ve already planned my next two cruises when I get back to the Pacific Northwest. First, I’ll attend the Ranger Rendezvous, which I first attended the day after I took delivery of Do It Now in September 2022. And then I’ll join a flotilla of boats to cruise up to Desolation Sound and back in late September. There’s a chance a friend will join me for that trip, but I’m not sure right now whether I want company.

And then I’ll let Do It Now get some rest in my garage while I enjoy the comforts of my “dirt home” for a while.

I live there solo, too, and I love it.

An Eclectic Mind

Web site and blog for Maria Langer, writer, video producer, jewelry artist, boat captain, and helicopter pilot. Blogging since 2004.