As we pushed off from the San Jose Del Cabo fuel dock, the last of our land for a while, my wish to the gods and goddesses of the sea was simply: “an uneventful passage”.

That might not seem much like an adventurer’s wish , but I figured crossing the biggest ocean on an old 30ft sailboat was adventure enough.

Two days earlier we had left La Paz to the cheer and farewells of our new-found friends, the four of us ringing our ships bell, blowing our air horn and yelling hysterically. We drew quite the crowd, and I could feel their full hearts hoping for our success; Portal, the little boat full of young minds, bikes and Pixel the cat.

The breeze was as forecast – a good push from the West to get us offshore. Stronger than we had anticipated though, it kicked us over, threw waves in our faces and found leaks we didn’t know we had. A seriousness settled over the crew – hysteria and excitement aside, this was really happening. For the next month or more, there would be no place to call into, no one to ask for help, no safe anchorage to rest our weary selves. We best toughen up.

Thankfully, the furious beating into the wind didn’t last more than a day, and slowly our breeze shifted North for a calmer point of sail. Our feathers slightly ruffled, we dried out our bed-sheets and pillowcases, grateful for the calming seas. Neptune’s little wake up call.

May 5^th:

Then it was a week and a half of blissful sailing. The NW trade-winds filled in, and with our colourful drifter sail flying high, our spirits followed suit. We let ‘Gramps’, our tiller-pilot, do most of the work, while we enjoyed books, music and feasts in the cockpit. Sunday the 5^th of May was both Cinco de Mayo and the end of our first week at sea – both good excuses to celebrate. This also coincided with two days of being completely becalmed. 0.0kts read frequently on our speedometer and the sea turned to a glassy lake. We made the most of it, erecting a sun awning, swimming in the deep blue water, and watching a movie in the cockpit while sipping Pina Coladas from the last of our pineapples. I tried not to imagine the calm lasting forever and enjoyed a peaceful sleep.

May 8^th:

And of course it didn’t. Our breeze was back by Monday morning, and progressively picked up through the week. On Wednesday Charlie was writing in the logbook:

“Flying. Grumpy overpowered. Feeling overpowered myself, furled in jib a bit.”

and by Friday the entries were:

“Pretty Swinging sailing out here”; “Pretty rough conditions”; “Lot of concentration and workout”.

Saturday we were getting tired of it:

“Still the same, over it!”; “Wet bum, again”; “Still rough, but we’re still tough, aren’t we?”; “Squall City”…

At Latitude N11, we hit the ITCZ. Often referred to as ‘the doldrums’ and usually characterized (or so I thought) by long stretches of calm weather and advancing squalls or variable winds. Annoyingly difficult to pin down, the ITCZ usually hovers between N8 and N2. In fact, it proved to be 6 days of 20-30kt winds, big messy waves from three directions, and constant squall lines bringing torrential rain and fierce lightning storms. As if on queue, Skyfile, our weather-email client, began displaying an ERROR message with every sat-phone call attempt. Desperate for forecast information and surprised by the unusually high Zone, I used the InReach to text John Reid, our experienced sailor and mentor currently on dry land. Of course, in less than hour he had determined the problem (Skyfile was having a major crash issue) and sent me the text forecast along with best-routing information. For the 6 days that followed, John would text us the updated position of the ITCZ and what course to take to best avoid it. Having access to such detailed data (not limited by small-file size) and even better, an old-hand to interpret it for us, was seriously a god-send. John’s reassuring messages got us through that messy chaotic week, as I prayed an errant lightning strike wouldn’t bust a hole in our hull. If not for that risk, I actually felt pretty in control. We had seen worse winds and bigger seas, and I knew Portal could handle it. The erratic nature of the doldrums is always a concern though, and we were all very, very thankful when we crossed Latitude N5 and knew we had made it through the ITCZ, aka “Incredibly Torturous Confusion Zone” or more commonly, “It’s Too Clammy Zone”.

Tuesday 14^th May:

The seas and clouds gradually calmed as we sailed on south. The previous week’s squalls had at least pushed us along at a rapid rate, so that we were now making great time. Our optimistic goal of a 30-day passage was looking very likely. The log reads:

“Boat is comfy while everyone sleeps. Shooting stars!”

At last we were catching up on rest and eating well again – pizza, pancakes, baked bread and brownies…

Friday, 17^th May:

A major milestone for every sailor, long respected and revered, is of course, an Equator Crossing. It marks the transition from mere “Pollywog” to trusted “Shell-Back” and is usually accompanied by ‘hazing’ style ceremony – think rotten eggs, tight spaces, shaved heads. We had with us three Pollywogs and one Shell-Back. Lydia, having done an equator crossing on the tall-ship she sailed with several years ago, was therefore dictator of our fate – come 00*00’00, we should have to do as she says.

We were blessed with a calm breezy day, and were set to cross around 4 in the afternoon. Thankfully, Lydia took the opportunity to rise above the immaturity of the usual tralla, instead planning for us meaningful rituals to mark this important transition. We were blindfolded as we crossed the thresh hold, then let fly a lock of our hair, and 4 messages in a bottle to release any past energies and to make wishes for the future. Champagne, confetti and party-whistles filled the cockpit as we tearily shared this momentous occasion together, now forever bound as a tribe. Once the numbers started going up again, with an S in front this time (S00*24’456) we cracked open a most prized beverage – a 12yr old bottle of the finest scotch, given to us by our friends Paul and Celeste in La Paz. We had all been so touched by their generosity, during our entire stay there, and drank to them, to Neptune (after offering some to the sea of course) and to this new territory – the Southern Hemisphere.

Sunday, May 19th

The South brought with it fresh breeze from the E, and Portal hurried along towards the islands. We averaged 7kts for several days in relative comfort, and noticed the miles rapidly disappearing. Suddenly, the end seemed so close! We weren’t ready, we still had fresh produce to eat and water to drink and books to read and letters to write…

So we wrote furiously, folded origami, made onion soup, rice pudding, curried chickpeas, and tanned our bodies and hoped for fish, and dreamt of coconuts and waterfalls and luscious greenery.

As if our imminent landfall wasn’t tempting enough, Neptune then gave us 3 days of rain, squalls and grey. We hung on to the tiller, jostling Portal back and forth, holding our breath for the mountain scape that would hopefully come.

Wednesday, May 22^nd:

The new dawn brought with it the same weather – overcast, stormy conditions. We squinted into the pelting rain, longing for land to appear, but even 40miles offshore… nothing. I had imagined blue skies, turquoise waters and distant fields of green slowly drawing closer – not this: all four crew in our fowlies for the first time since Mexico, slinking into the cabin after a watch, eager for hot tea and dry clothes. But Portal was in control, and at least we knew it couldn’t last… surely land was around here somewhere?

2:47pm:

“LAAAAAAAAANNNND” screamed Babsi, ringing the ships bell with her cold fingers. Lydia and I jumped out of our berths, not fully expecting to see the miraculous sight of Terra Ferma. There she was though, through the mist, a distinctly different shape – the edge of Fatu Hiva. What sweet relief welled up in me when I saw that glorious vision. Despite trusting my navigation, trusting the paper charts and gps and accurate waypoints… it had a visceral effect on me, to actually see the land. Suddenly, the anxiety and seriousness I had carried with me across the ocean, since LA even, released a little and I sighed with a smile at our latest achievement. If the mast broke now, we could swim to shore!

The mast didn’t break, and land drew closer. As we approached, she became more defined, and soon we were seeing individual palm trees and multiple waterfalls. Green, green, green everywhere. It wasn’t hard to see why – the rain fell from the tops of vertical cliffs, into streams and crevices, rushing to the salt.

What I had expected to be a small bay with 3 or so boats, turned out to be a small bay with 20 or so boats, and anchoring for the first time in a month proved another exciting challenge. The smallest boat in the bay, we tucked into a good spot finally, after raising and lowering (by hand) 100ft of chain in the still pouring rain. Pacific anchorages are deep, and this was no exception – we hung on, 30metres above the sea-floor, safe and sound just on sun-down.

Wow. Stillness. The gentle rocking felt more like solid ground after the mess we’d sailed through, and with (dorado) fish chowder and red wine in our bellies, we slept like the warn out children we were.

====================================================

More Photos:

What do you do when your “reliance” water bladders fail? Have a fresh-water party!

Thanks to our new friend Paul of The Beguine, we’re catching more fish! This is a skipjack, on route to Cabo.

Reelin’ him in

I made a fish mango salad, ceviche and a caserole… but he was so big we couldn’t eat him all!

Dolphins play with us as we begin our passage – A very good sign! They welcomed us to the Marquesas too, guiding to a safe landfall.

Mid passage, the spare halyard we use to raise the drifter broke. Chafed through. We needed it, so both Charlie and I went up the mast (fair’s fair) for a mid-ocean repair job. It was bouncy up there, despite the very calm seas.

We both wanted the honour of going up – so each did half the job

Meanwhile the crew did the hardwork down below…

One of many beautiful sunrises…

I only look like a little school girl because I have found braids to be the best way to keep my hair manageable and out of the way! And maybe because of whatever we’re gossiping about here…

And the sunsets…

Pixel made it through ok, though she started shedding profusely as it warmed up.

Babsi at work on our French flag, handstitching.

She slept a lot, and found it hard to clean herself, developing a few dreadlocks of her own.

We caught two Dorado, and loved every morsel!

Sashimi anyone?

Torrential rain was somehow fitting for our first landfall – we were so happy nothing could keep our spirits down!

As you may have noticed if you’ve been following our tracker, we are still in La Paz! One week turned into almost two, but, at last, we are just about ready to set sail into the great blue yonder! Yes, it’s 1am, and yes we still have fruit and vegetables all over our cabin floor.

I have been consoling myself by talking to other boaters around here… EVERYONE gets delayed. It’s pretty funny really… we tell ourselves it’ll only take so long, it’s really a simple job, we can stow that stuff easily… all the while knowing, understanding, that these things have a mind of their own and foil you when you least expect it.

But you know, if you’re going to be delayed anywhere, this sure is a good place to do it. La Paz has a huge cruisers community, complete with 8am radio meeting, helpful neighbours (usually on bigger boats with more tools), and a selection of Marina’s. We visited local community garden projects, went on epic walking and biking missions, climbed the mast twice, spliced, whip-stitched, varnished, varnished, varnished, and made good use of the endless supply of beer and ice-cream.

Charlie’s birthday happened last week, and his sister even flew down to meet us, since her birthday was the very next day! It was a wonderful two days of complete relaxation, lazing on the beach and ignoring our job-list. We managed to smuggle in a Huge Pacifico Beer-Shaped Pinata, filled with more lollies than I care to describe.

Stickers, a toy tool set and a sling-shot were some of the gifts he received, so it seems everyone is well-aware that he has a lot of little boy in him

We even got a couple of hours of sailing in while Johanna was visiting. It was great to get out and remind ourselves marina’s are not where Portal belongs.

On the way here from Cabo San Lucas, we finally met a boat named “Reseinder” that had been leap frogging us all the way down the Baja Coast. The two owners, Jerid and Scott, are sweethearts and shock of all shocks – they have a cat named “Pixel”!! I almost fell over when they told us over the VHF radio. What are the chances? They have been docked two boats over from us here in La Paz and are one of the many boats that helped us with various tools and project ideas.

We met two other boats with similar routes – Bruce, Catherine and Luka on “Marionette” a 50ft Cheoy Lee build. They are a Kiwi-French family and will be leaving tomorrow morning on route to the Marquesas. I don’t expect we’ll stay close for long, but it’s nice to know they’re out there!

The second boat is a little more our speed – a 30ft Newport named “Azul”. Her owners Mike and Nea are kindred spirits, going small and going now. Actually they are leaving on Saturday, but we should be sailing around the same route, so I’m sure we’ll see them again.

Portal is more loaded down than she has ever been before – with over 160gals of water, 20gals of fuel, three full propane tanks and more food/produce than a French Polynesian market It’s nice to know we’ll be getting lighter and lighter as we head South West and I for one don’t need any better excuse than that to eat a whole pineapple a day for a week!

We have really enjoyed our time here and all the great people we’ve met. Paul and Celeste on The Beguine have become good friends, and we now can search for familiar faces in further reaches of the world. What a great country, full of friendly, helpful people. We didn’t experience anything close to crime or dishonesty during our time here, and we all hope to visit again. We can only hope for similar treatment on the rest of our journey.

For now though, it’s a wide open ocean and no-one but Neptune to treat us right. At least 4 weeks at sea – We’ll see you on the other side ladies and gentlemen!! Adios!

Pixel spent a lot of time sleeping! The heat was getting to her I think…

We overhauled our winches and made them shiny!

Charlie the instructor…

We taped and varnished everything (finally!) and got at least three coats on it all. We’ll need three more for the South Pacific sunshine, but it’s a start and she looks great!

Pixel, the model cat. She made friends too – with ‘Stow-away’ a 5yr old male beauty.

We scrubbed her bottom, which was surprisingly clean. It’s nice that we can reach everything in a few breaths!

Charlie requested a haircut and dread for his birthday… then Babsi wanted one… then Lydia too. Now we all have at least one dreadlock

Actually, after hearing various accounts of Cabo – ranging from: “it’s like the zoo – nice for a day”; to: “it’s like Venice beach on steroids, stay away!”, we decided La Paz would be a better launching point. Tomorrow we will sail into the Sea of Cortez and explore the last of our relaxed Mexican anchorages on route to the ‘Peace’ city, where we plan on spending a week before sailing off into the great expanse.

For now though, we are at the zoo, and it’s fun for a day. Jet ski’s whiz past our little ship, as she sits snugly to two anchors overlooking the majestic rock formations that this town is famous for. On shore, hotels and designer brands line the beach while men yell ‘taxi’ or ‘fishing trip’ as we walk by. Still, it’s land, there’s internet and coffee and tacos and beer and we are happy.

The ride here was a bumpy exciting one! We left Bahia Asuncion with 25knot winds on the forecast – ready for a fast passage to Mag Bay. Sure enough, 25 to 30knot gusts pushed us to our destination, averaging over 5.5knots per hour. The wind was exhilarating, even pleasant… but the seas such breeze kicked up, especially as we were sailing relatively close to the coast, was challenging, at times terrifying! Huge walls of water rose up behind us, and just when I was sure it would rain down upon us, Portal would gently lift her stern, white wash would snow around us as it broke, and we’d surf down the wave. Well offshore waves tend to roll out, creating potentially bigger swells, but much longer and therefore smoother ones. Coastal sailing like this means short sharp waves that kick up in different directions, often pushing us 40 degrees off course. Constantly correcting our position, we were grateful for our short 2hour helming shifts.

I was glad for the experience though, and proud to see our little ship so well handled by the crew. We made good, simple meals and even managed some sleep here and there. By Mag Bay though, we were beat and ready for rest!

An overnight stop in Bahia Santa Maria, where we spent a memorable morning sunbathing, skinny dipping (dipping is all it was – the water was still freezing!) and lazing around in the little deserted anchorage, before heading 20miles up the road to Mag Bay proper. During that afternoon sail, we – at long last – caught a fish! What a delight!! A small tuna, a foot and half long, fed the four of us gleefully as we giggled around the table, bathed in our cozy cabin lights. This day was a real treat – simply relaxing!

The next leg was 150nm to Cabo San Lucas. Our forecast read light breezes, so we pushed off around 2pm, hoping for a 4knot average – bringing us into the Cabo bay by early morning. We should have known though – Portal doesn’t ‘do’ slow anymore. She hurried along at 6knots and our new arrival time became more like 11pm. I am REALLY not a fan of landfalls in the dark (such stress and anxiety!) but seeing it was an easy to identify and open bay, I reluctantly agreed to enter whenever it was we arrived. Around 10.30pm, Charlie and Lydia put two reefs in the main and ran in under such reduced canvas. A good thing too, as the stretch between the two capes – Cabo Falso and Cabo San Lucas -  often have famously strong winds by the day’s end, and tonight was no exception. I heaved the tiller over to windward, holding it there with my thigh, working us closer to the coast. Beam on to the wind and waves, Portal and I would hold our breaths as large walls of water crashed into us, momentarily heeling us over with a deluge of spray into the cockpit. I begun yelling in an old-salt Irish accent, encouraging us on, despite my white knuckles and 40knot gusts.  The crew down below listened to my ranting and the crashing waves, while Charlie constantly confirmed our position on the charts. It was an exciting entry!

A mile offshore, the mountains finally blocked our breeze and the waves calmed down. We identified the large rocks at the entrance and rounded the point well clear. Thankfully the bay was surprisingly calm and uncluttered and we soon found a suitable anchorage spot. Another two hours later (!), and some very stereotypical husband/wife anchor yelling and grunting, we were satisfied with our holding and tackle – two anchors, cqr at the bow and danforth on the stern, with 3-1 scope on both. As I finally lay down to sleep that night, I wondered when the last time was that I had felt so utterly exhausted – mentally, emotionally and physically. A deep pride in our sturdy little vessel overwhelmed me as I drifted into slumber.

We awoke to the sights and sounds of Cabo San Lucas, with all it’s circus and commotion. After a much needed cleaning of the boat inside and out, we splurged two dollars on a water taxi and headed ashore. Again, we have rejuvenated and reconnected – ready for the next and final leg of Mexico.

We arrived yesterday, after another early morning start from Turtle Bay. Since  leaving Ensenada, our first Mexican port, we have had great passages to various small bays and islands. Our first stop to Isla St Martin was somewhat disappointing -  we had hoped to explore an enclosed lagoon on the small desolate island, but I awoke with a migraine and spent the day vomiting, as Charlie and the crew moved us to the mainland, 10miles away. We read about a small village there, with a few resources, and the local “Carlos” who would answer our radio call with information. As it turned out, anchorage was taken in 5ft at low tide (barely enough for our 4ft keel) and well offshore so that rowing to land was out of the question. Mr Carlos never answered our curious calls, and our active imaginations have since surmised that the small town must have been decimated by the Cartel, nothing left but torn Tecate signs.

We fled that wild and lonely place, around 4am, with our sights set on Isla Cedros. Anticipating two nights at sea, we were thrilled when we averaged over 5.5 knots, making anchorage by the following evening. Along our way, we were intercepted by a most humbling sight – Three Californian grey whales chose to swim with us for over two hours. We turned our engine on immediately and tried to alter course, but they insisted on accompanying us, sometimes getting so close their blow-water splashed in our faces. Rising up on our stern, then diving below our keel, it was a most terrifying and beautiful experience! They never so much as nicked our vessel though, so I suppose they were well aware, and had no intent of harming us.

Arriving in Cedros, we rowed ashore in our trusty dinghy “Luckey” and were again surprised -  a quaint and vibrant town of 2500 inhabitants surrounded us, the people a friendly and relaxed bunch. Colourful buildings with descriptive drawings painted directly to the facade, small side streets of cobbled stones, and cute business’ like the Papeleria selling paper supplies. Being Easter, there was a local parade through the town, complete with Jesus on a cross and his disciples, being banished by the Romans  as the story was read aloud through a truck’s sound-system. We made good use of the local internet cafe and taqueria, making friends with the jovial by-passers. We were all a little sad to leave the following morning, grateful for the unique small-town experience, void of tourism.

At 2am we set off for our next stop – Turtle Bay. Another pleasant and swift sail, saw us anchoring in the well protected bay around 1pm. Touched by the tourism of the annual “Baha-ha-ha” cruisers race, it was never-the-less an enjoyable resting point with delicious coffee and plenty of fresh food and water provisions. We spent the afternoon relaxing on the beach under palm-tree umbrellas, grateful for some rest after such an early start.

The next morning was again a pre-dawn rise though, as we needed to make Bahia Asuncion before dark. We again averaged over 5knots, with reefs in the main and jib, flying downwind in sharp heavy seas. Occasionally we would spot another sailboat beating their way north, and all agreed they were crazy! Thankfully an hour or so of daylight remained after entering the bay, since we dropped anchor 4 times before finding a good hold. Eventually we had success by removing our CQR and installing our Danforth anchor instead. A lighter, weaker anchor, but more appropriate for the loose sand we found here. My muscles were pulsing with exhaustion, after hauling 40ft of chain in and out, in and out, though I still don’t regret removing the poorly placed windlass Portal originally came with.

Now we are here, giving ourselves a full day of rest, drinking coffee and chowing down fish tacos. This is a large bay with a significant village, and so far we have had much help from the local people, particularly in refilling our propane. We will restock on food and water here, then make the run to “Mag Bay”, 200nm from here. Provisions don’t sound promising there, but being a well-protected anchorage, it will be a good rest stop before another 150nm downhill run to Cabo San Lucas. We are definitely taking longer than expected along this western coast, but have decided it is well-worth the delay – such nice communities and the glimpse into rural Mexican life is not to be missed.

Letter Writing in Ensenada

It’s a tough life… internet on the boat!

A lazy sail

Our new drifter – what fun to use!

Whales!

Holding our breath!

At least twice as long as our boat, and easily one boat length wide…

Terrifying beauty

Pixel lazing in her favourite spot – on top of the dodger cover.

Lydia’s eternal struggle for clean hair – here she tries the ‘hang and dunk’ method…

Barbara does some dishes

Captain Charlie on the electronics

Cedros village grocery

Easter on Isla Cedros

Our new friend Armando helps us get propane in Bahia Asuncion

A Mexican fisherman’s home

Bahia Asuncion

We left Marina Del Rey on a breezy afternoon and had great conditions. Cruising along with full sails up and pushing 7knots, we were a happy crew! By nightfall the wind had all but died though, and after an hour of bashing sails, we turned on the engine. The block on our main sheet traveller had broken under the stress – our first casualty of the trip. She’s an old boat, and things are bound to break – but so soon into the voyage was a little disconcerting! Still, we lashed down the traveller and pushed on for Catalina, thankful that the fracture happened in light airs. Our ‘iron jib’ reliably propelled us forward, all be it at 3knots, and it was several hours later than any sort of wind piped up.

We sailed the last miles into Two Harbors, on Catalina Island, and as we had been there twice before, the late-night land fall was only mildly worrying. It is well lit and buoyed, so we picked up a mooring easily enough, and all fell soundly to sleep.

We spent a full day recovering from the stress/excitement of leaving, just lazing about the boat and beach. Our friend Bob was sailing from MDR to meet us there that evening, but ran into serious trouble with fog, freighters and no radio. Charlie and I even went out on a late-night rowing rescue mission after we lost contact with him, though we couldn’t find him. Later we learned he had turned back and was safe and sound, thank goodness.

Another two nights were spent at different anchorages along the catalina coastline, honing our skills and finishing small tasks. By Thursday afternoon the wind looked good and we were ready to push off for San Diego.

The first few hours were hopeful, with great breeze off our beam. Once again though, by 10pm a dense fog rolled in and the wind completely abated. We were loathe to turn on the engine again, but at 0.05knots we decided it was time. Not a puff came our way until well into the morning hours, just 10miles from San Diego. The fog had lingered through the night too, and I was VERY thankful for our AIS device, which shows us nearby traffic and let’s them see us too.

So then we were in San Diego! Our final port in the USA and a great place for repairs and final projects. A whole six days went by as we rested, tromped around the city on business missions, readied the rest of the boat, and restocked on provisions. We were all anxious to get going, and days seemed to fly by with little productivity. In hindsight though, we achieved a lot and finished some important tasks. Finally, by Thursday afternoon we were off and away, ice-cream, coke and chips in hand (America FUCKYEAH), cruising out of the country on a steady 6knots.

We made great headway in such good breeze and 4 hours later were almost half way. Then the wind died. Around 10pm. Sound familiar? This time we motored in big swells and the constant rolling afforded little sleep. Thankfully, around 4am, she piped up again and we were able to make steady progress with full sails.

At 11am, we pushed into the Ensenada Chanel, jumped off the boat and begun life in MEXICO! Yeeha! Clearing into customs was simple, thanks to the helpful marina we stayed in for a night, and the tacos and tecate (beer) taste GOOD!

Mooring field at Two harbors

Our stern anchor keeps us from swinging

Lydia and Babsi row a stern anchor out

Darling Portal. She’s a little heavy in the stern, with everyone in the cockpit!

A row in the early morning

Our never-been-used Drifter sail. Excited to try it out!

Before

During

After!

The captain’s quarters – Vberth

Barbara’s Side, Port Berth

Lydia’s Berth, Starboard side

The galley

AIS – A lifesaver in the fog

The Nav Station

Portal’s solar panel set up – 4x30watt panels, give us plenty of energy.

Luckey, our trusty companion.

Here is a website you can use to track our progress – every ten minutes!!

http://share.delorme.com/lilybarlow#

And at last! The Master List gets thrown out! Woohoo!

Fair winds!

I want to share with you all the work and projects that have gone into our beloved Portal, all in an effort to ready her for a trans-pacific voyage. We have learnt so much along the way, and finally, we feel she is ready. Here’s the proof:

One of our anchor rodes

Installing the new oven!

Pixel keeps watch

Measure twice…

sophisticated tools of the trade

At last! Propane!

And Pizza!

Re-wiring our entire AC system…

Good riddance!!

A new Jib sun cover! Yes, it’s stripy…(discount fabric!)

Tip savings!! B.O.A.T – Bring On Another Thousand.

And pixel thinks i’m silly…

Removing the windlass… ninja style.

Woodwork!

Rigging inspection!

Poop Tank stand…

Is that a custom stand or WHAT!?

Working into the morning hours…

Da – da! Holding tank installed!

Fiberglass repair

The way the boat looked most days…

Fibreglass material patches

The after math. Itchy ickiness!

Now… more holes?

Right here.

Alright, hole in the deck!

Back from our shake down, tired!

Head overhaul!

Messy fun!

Charlie and Pixel have a go…

And guess what? It works!!

Provisioning TIME!

The Portal Crew! Charlie, Lily, Lydia and Barbara.

Charlie wiring refrigerators at 2am…

Lily installing stereos at 2am…

More rigging inspections and a new LED mast headlight!

Barbara makes the boat look beautiful… for days and days and days…

Our departure party… a full double rainbow!!!!

“Nautical themes encouraged!”

It’s a chilly night though!

We heated it up, concocted a few extras (gravy, desert etc), and placed it all impressively on the gimballed cockpit table Charlie had fashioned earlier. I wish I could have seen him sawing off the legs outside the thriftstore and biking home with the 4ft wide table top!

Our friends Lyndsey, Rob and Rob’s parents came over around 4, and the gorging began! We were happily lounging lethargically by 7pm, as night (and the fog) fell in.

Happy thanksgiving!

Setting the table

Who said you need an oven to cook a whole turkey?

“The Great Turkey Grilling”
(he used our huge bolt cutters to snap it in half)

(some of) The Spread

Pumpkin Pie and the Mango Possets I prepared earlier, YUM!

Charlie, Rob, Paul, Mary, and Lyndsey