And Just Like That…We Did It!

We left the dock!

May 31st, 2025 seemed so far away for so long, until suddenly, it wasn’t. The last two weeks were a blur of goodbyes to excellent friends and last-minute prep. Thank you to everyone who came to our dock send-off on the 29th! Mason’s parents—Tom, Amy, Sydney, and sweet Levi—showed up at 0600 to see us off. It was a beautiful, calm morning at Shilshole. Around 0630, we set off with my mom aboard and waved a teary goodbye.

Our big plan was to make it to the San Juans on Day 1, but that quickly changed when we saw 30 knots blowing across the Strait of Juan de Fuca. We pivoted to Port Townsend instead, but after an hour of bashing upwind, our jib blew. The leech was trailing in the wind, caught on our newly mast-mounted radar. Not exactly confidence-inspiring when you’re five hours in, trying to make your mom feel safe aboard.

She asked if we had a second sail to hoist. We did not. So we diverted again, this time to Port Ludlow.

I made salmon bowls for lunch, but before we could eat, the sump pump started going off. Turns out the check valve was blocked, and Mason got sprayed with gray water. Not quite as bad as black water, but it’s a close second. After a cleanup, we finally ate and rested a bit as the rain eased up. We walked into town for margaritas, courtesy of Vince, and capped the of night with a fantastic dinner at Fireside.

The next morning, there was barely any wind, so we decided to head for San Juan Island and cross into Victoria early Monday for sail repair. It was a stunning day on the water… until issue number three. The head clogged. We only have one. This was serious. Too much toilet paper too fast did her in, and by day two, we had no jib and were peeing in a bucket.

Plumbing is my department, unfortunately. I checked the air vents, which were clear, and suspected the joker valve. I suited up in heavy-duty kitchen gloves and a mask, praying I wouldn’t get sprayed with, well, crizz. Thankfully, I was safe. I cleared the joker valve, took a much-needed shower, and threw every article of clothing straight into the wash.

We arrived in Garrison Bay around 1715 PM, hung our laundry to dry, and dinghied off to Westcott Bay Shellfish Co. Mason had visited during his bachelor party and pointed out where the boys drunkenly portaged the dinghy from Roche Harbor. Seattle folks, if you get the chance, go. The views, oysters, and beer are all top-notch.

While there, my mom and I wandered into the gift shop and spotted original designs by our good friend Cynthia Meyers. “Awww Shucks.” It’s so funny how you can randomly stumble into a place and be reminded of good friends back home.

We ended the night with a paddleboard session, saw seals and a bald eagle, and enjoyed a cozy dinner of Kari Wyborski’s Dos Aji’s Chicken while watching Race to Alaska.

On Monday morning, we sailed to Victoria and cleared customs at Van Isle Marina in Tsehum Harbor. I always get nervous around authority and was mildly panicking about all the alcohol we’d been gifted prior to departure. I kept telling myself, “worst case, they send us home.” Of course, it was totally fine, and declaring the “ship’s personal bar,” with limited details on its vastness, was key.

“Ohhh Canada…” We were happy to be here.

Mason and I carried our jib down the road to North Sails and picked up two new joker valves at a nearby consignment shop. In the afternoon, we took a cab into the heart of Victoria, walked around to a bakery, had dinner at Pagliacci’s, and all passed out by 8 PM.

June 2nd, we sailed to Bedwell Harbor in an 8-knot breeze and all took naps along the way. With the jib at the loft, we rigged the Code Zero and learned we could carry it up to 35 degrees. Not fast, but it worked, and we felt like we were flying. We paddled around and cruised into Poets Cove for dinner.

On Wednesday, we woke up to a partly cloudy sky. The three of us lazed around on our respective couches until noon. Around 12:30, we headed off for a serious hike to the highest point of South Pender Island, Mount Norman.

On the way, a nearby anchored boat waved us down. It was our old Shilshole neighbors, Randal and Allison Smith. We hadn’t seen them in ten months since they moved to Anacortes, WA. It’s a small cruising world. They’re now retired and starting their summer trip to Desolation Sound. We said our goodbyes and powered up for a four-mile hike with 1,200 feet of vertical gain. Charcuterie never tasted better than it did at the summit.

Back on the boat, Mom and I took turns showering. Just as Mason was about to go next, the freshwater pump failed. Fortunately, we were grilling burgers and didn’t need much cleanup. We washed plates off the stern and called it good.

On Thursday morning, we got word that our sail was ready. We returned to Van Isle Marina for their complimentary moorage and crushed a to-do list in four hours. Mason picked up the sail, installed a new water pump (plus a spare), and showered. Mom and I dropped off laundry, borrowed bikes, and did a massive provisioning run. We ended with a celebratory marina lunch.

In total, my mom’s “idyllic cruise” turned into more of a shakedown. We had four pretty major failures: the sail, the sump pump, the head, and the freshwater pump. But she was a total trooper. She told us we make a good team and that it was nice to see us problem-solve together. She also reminded us of an old cruising truth: “Cruising is just fixing your boat in exotic locations.” That sounds about right.

We dropped her off at the airport and set sail from Tsehum Harbor. Now we have two weeks to cover 770 nautical miles to Glacier Bay. The Olympic Mountains and Mount Baker faded behind us, sending us on as we begin the journey north.