For the first part of this story – READ PART 1
In part 1, we get our boat ready and set sail from Santa Barbara to San Francisco. Quickly after leaving San Francisco, things started to get exciting when our main sail tears. We experienced engine problems 20-miles offshore and had to make an emergency detour.
An emergency stop in Humboldt Bay
We nervously made our approach to Humboldt Bay in Eureka, California.
Fun fact about the entrance to Humboldt… Pro-surfers practice in the breaking waves that form at the entrance to the bar, and the Coast Guard conducts surf training for their new recruits. We saw both as we rode the steep waves into the harbor ourselves, praying our engine held on long enough to get us past the jetty of “coffin” pavers and into the safety of the harbor.
We tied up to a commercial dock, near the store we called ahead to confirm they had the filters we needed. Surprise, surprise, turns out they didn’t have the filters after all.
After some frustrating troubleshooting, Chris and one of our friends hopped in a friendly local’s truck, on a mission to find some suitable fuel filters.
Back from their mission, the real work started. And damn, I’ve never felt more useless. Diesel engines? Not my natural forte. Waist-deep in the engine room, Chris and our two friends rebuilt a totally different fuel filter system, using the new parts we picked up. It turns out the old system wasn’t right for the boat anyways, and the original filter size had been starving the engine of fuel this whole time.
After hours of work, we were back on our way, eager to get the hell out of there. Every minute we spent off track from our original route closed our weather window just that much more. And we knew we were cutting it too close to a nasty storm developing off the coast of Washington.
Back at it – sailing the Oregon coast
Boy did it feel good to be making progress again.
The wind shifted behind us and started to really blow. With our massive mainsail and still a little help from the engine, we sailed the entire Oregon coast in just under 24-hours.
The U.S. west coast, particularly in winter, is sometimes called the “ghost coast” in reference to the lack of boats out on the water. On our entire trip, we never saw another vessel, which is why we were surprised to come across a huge commercial fishing fleet one night.
Through the fog, we started to see hundreds of lights stretching out in front of us. The fishing fleet was spread out for miles, and the only route was to go through the middle. We wove through boats, using a spotlight to search for any floats, and hoping odds were in our favor to avoid tangling on any nets.
A storm catches up with us off the Washington coast
Our nice weather window was rapidly closing, and the half a day spent making repairs in Humboldt was going to cost us. We had been monitoring the storm developing off the Washington coast, and it was now clear it would arrive around the same time we would.
We approached Cape Flaherty around 2 a.m., lights from the dense commercial traffic and occasional flash from the light house adding to the hectic ambiance. The four of us huddled together behind the dodger, but still getting soaked from waves crashing over the deck and rain dripping from above.
None of us had ever been out on the water in wind like that.
The wind howled above 50 knots, kicking up steep waves that we pounded into one after the other. We were purely in survival mode that night. The only sail we had up was a tiny orange storm head sail, knowing a small amount of canvas would help the boat ride the storm a bit more comfortably.
SHIT.
The forestay snapped off the mast, sending the sail and cable into the water. Our sail was now acting like a sea anchor, dragging the boat off course and broadside to the waves. Chris and our friend clipped into the jacklines and made their way to the bow to wrestle the sail back on board. Every few seconds, the bow buried into a wave, sending a wall of water crashing over the two of them.
Back in the cockpit, we counted the minutes until we could round the corner into the Strait of Juan de Fuca where we expected some more protection from the storm. We should have known our home waters would continue to kick our butts.
Surviving our home waters
Finally back in inshore waters, we anticipated some reprieve from the battering we got off the Washington coast. We weren’t so lucky. The waves got steeper and closer between, and the wind was then right on our nose.
I took a turn trying to get some sleep, but shortly heard, “WAKE UP, the boat is sinking!”
Our entire bilge was filled with seawater that reached above the floorboards, and water was shooting out from the engine room. Chris quickly closed all thru-hulls throughout the boat, which seemed to stop the problem. We checked our bilge pump and discovered it had failed – the wires were severely corroded. Before leaving Santa Barbara, we purchased two manual/portable bilge pumps that we hoped we wouldn’t need.
After what felt like hours, but was probably minutes, we emptied the bilge using a manual pump and a bucket. But it still seemed we were continuing to take on water.
Each wave we crashed into sent a stream of water into the boat from the anchor locker, and our hatches were leaking incessantly. We couldn’t catch a break. Two of us stayed below to continue to manage the water, and the other two up top to get us back under way and manage the treacherous wind and waves.
The next eight hours was the longest slog we have ever sailed.
Arriving in Anacortes
We arrived in Anacortes, soaked to the bone and shivering, not a dry layer of clothing left anywhere on the boat. The four of us were beyond exhausted, but I’ll also never forget the feeling of elation and accomplishment when we landed at the dock. This trip pushed us well beyond our comfort levels, but we managed to handle every challenge it threw at us. We’re now that much more prepared for the next time things get hairy.
Soon the real work would begin to haul out our boat and start the refit to prepare for living aboard.
Big shout out to Ryan, Miller, and Mitch for taking this trip with us. We hope you still like sailing after all we put you through!