Postlude

And now this adventure is done.

There will be other adventures; we still feel nomadic, and at the very least a cross country camping trip to see new places and old friends is on a future calendar. Replanting ourselves in Ashland after such a long absence will keep us busy. But once Second Wind has been spruced up and sold, this chapter of our lives will forever be closed.

What do we see when we look back?

Images, of course: jewel-toned lagoons, spewing volcanoes, calving glaciers. The sounds of New Zealand songbirds, water rushing by the hull on passages, islanders singing while they work. The emotional power of witnessing Polynesian dancing and Maori music and multiple planets aligned across the night sky. Close encounters with multicolored fish, sparkling glowworms, magnificent whales. And above all, time in small villages, sharing music and meals.

We've been asked how we have changed. We're not sure we actually changed all that much, though we definitely know ourselves and each other better. Perhaps it's more a matter of having opportunities to practice being who we wanted to be all along. We learned to be much more flexible; circumstances were always changing, so adapting became a way of life. We had seemingly endless opportunities to practice patience, some of which were more successful than others. We did well with the tenacity bit, though!  Which goes with the realization that we--all of us--are capable of doing whatever it is that we have to do.   

We experienced the pleasure of being truly focused. Living in the moment was palpable, not just a catchphrase. We learned to do what we could when we had the chance, since more often than not if we passed up an opportunity, something--usually weather--prevented us from getting to do what we'd planned to do. We felt the inverse relationship between time and stress: the more time, the less stress (and vice versa). All these are principles we knew before we left, but now we know them much more deeply.

So what do we feel when we look back? Gratitude. Contentment. Awe.  

This is our final blog post. If you would like to stay connected, please feel free to contact us directly. We would love to hear from you! 

Last but not least, THANK YOU for following us! It always meant so much to know that others cared about our journey.

Home Port!

Our journey wouldn't have felt complete without touching home base in Anacortes, our hailing port since 1992. It was a festive and emotional return: we flew flags from all the countries we'd visited, and Katelinn and Camden greeted us on the dock with a large world flag, tooting signal horns and spraying champagne! 

Damp and breezy fall weather got in the way of outdoor activities and we were reluctant to be indoors due to COVID, so we spent most of our time together spread apart in the cockpit with the enclosure panels open and a space heater at our feet to keep us tolerably warm. As homecomings go, it was still delightful; we came home to be with family and friends, and nothing got in the way of sharing stories and laughter.

A tour of South Pacific beers

We did manage a short trip to nearby Saddlebag Island, and en route to Anacortes we stopped overnight at our two favorite anchorages in the San Juans. These places are most dear to our hearts and we want to memorialize them here. 

Watmough Bay, Lopez Island
Keen eyes (or a zoom feature) will spot the moon
 and a flock of birds playing with the wind 

A typical Pacific NW beach

Forest and ocean meet in these islands

Views from Eagle Cliff, Cypress Island

Grove of madrone trees on Saddlebag Island,

a marine park just 30 minutes from Anacortes

We have now returned to Port Townsend, where we will be hauled out for the winter. (We chose PT because--unlike Anacortes--the boatyard allows liveaboards, plus we're quite close to Katelinn's home.) We'll live on the hard until the end of the year, the earliest our renters could be vacated so we could return to our house in Ashland. We have a daunting number of large projects that will keep us busy, if not warm: painting inside and out, refinishing the cabin sole, reseating windows, etc. 

Once Second Wind has had the facelift she deserves, we will put her on the market. We will be heartbroken to see her go, but she deserves to be out on the ocean, and we are no longer the ones to take her there. We're sad about that fact, too. But as the two year journey stretched into six, we had more magnificent experiences than we could ever have imagined--and now it's time to move on to different kinds of adventures. 

Second Wind on land

Our current home;
Art is stabilizing some rickety stairs
(better than climbing a ladder for 3 months)

To bring closure to this tale, one final blog entry will be posted by the time we leave Port Townsend.  

British Columbia: The Inside Passage, Abbreviated

Raising the Canadian and quarantine flags prior to checking in at Prince Rupert

Due to COVID-19, our time in Canada was significantly different than planned. Since returning to our home port was considered essential travel, Canadian authorities told us last spring that after we completed a 2 week quarantine, we could proceed as normal down the coast of British Columbia. By September that policy had changed. We were not allowed to get off the boat at all, and were given a short amount of time to cover the entire distance--a challenge in a vessel that motors at 5 knots and frequently has to wait for  strong currents to subside. More problematic, we were only allowed to stop once for fuel. 

Though the restrictions were understandable, it was a shame to have to bypass many gorgeous anchorages. Our deepest disappointment was losing our only opportunity to visit cultural sites, particularly Haida Gwaii. After immersing in cultures around the South Pacific, it was ironic to be unable to see a significant culture in our own part of the world. That said, the pandemic has forced many people to give up much more than that, and we knew we were lucky to still be able to travel at all.

We weren't so lucky with the weather. Though we didn't have the nearly constant rain that we experienced in Alaska, it was often foggy. With limited time in British Columbia came limited visibility. In these photos, you will see just about everything we did!

Charlie's Charts says that Grenville Channel is one of the most unique parts of the Inside Passage. This was our view:

Visibility was better when we were in Fraser Reach, which we dubbed Waterfall Alley. We spent the day ogling countless cascades; here are just a few:

And then we were back to fog. 

Bottleneck Inlet as depicted in Charlie's Charts

Bottleneck Inlet as we saw it.
Let's say navigation was tricky.

No longer concerned about hitting ice, we were very concerned about hitting logs;
often we couldn't see them until the very last minute
(this photo was taken on a relatively clear day).
Fortunately the water was usually calm enough for our radar to pick up floating debris.

A very special treat on my birthday: the sun came out in the afternoon! On a clear day, tranquil Pacific NW anchorages are glorious.

Tired of motoring, we chose to leave the Inside Passage when we reached Vancouver Island and sail down the west side. Along the way we were joined by creatures large and small:

Barkley Sound was a favorite family destination in our gunkholing days. We were grateful to have one last chance to see Marble Cove, full of fun memories. We were blessed with sunshine that day as well; in fact, we were finally far enough south that we put shorts on and celebrated our first (and little did we know it, but last) taste of summer--in September.

From Marble Cove we sailed overnight to Port Townsend, through thick fog in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Early in the morning a US Coast Guard vessel emerged from the mist, and we were boarded for a safety inspection; later it took us three attempts before the US customs officials approved our entry. That was followed by the news that much of the Rogue Valley (where our house is located) was in flames. Welcome home?!

Alaska: Cruising the Inside Passage

After leaving Glacier Bay, we gradually made our way down the Inside Passage (inner coastal waters of Southeast Alaska). We had plenty of time to explore, relishing the beautiful anchorages and almost daily sightings of bears and humpback whales. Our final postcards from Alaska:

The ceremonial house and totem poles in Bartlett Cove, Glacier Bay...

...were created by Kaach Yaas, 
a carver we met later in the village of Hoonah

The secluded anchorage at Ell Cove

Serene reflections

Fog was frequent; this is Red Bluff Bay

Waterfall at Red Bluff Bay

We saw bears at almost every anchorage,
but this unusual one was a special treat

Rain almost every day produces many waterfalls; 
this one is at Warm Springs Bay

Also at Warm Springs Bay was an older but very clean bathhouse,
constantly circulating hot springs water.
Soaking was delightful!

Evening light--10:00 p.m. in Portage Bay

Early morning light--6:00 a.m. in Frederick Sound

The icebergs in Le Conte Bay were as big as houses!

The ice sculptures were stunning

Petersburg has strong historical ties to Norway

Norwegian influences permeate the town

Like most other towns in Southeast Alaska, it's primarily a fishing village;
this is a Trident Seafoods cannery

Though reindeer sausage is local as well!
(we're certain this was not Rudolf)

Speaking of food, 
we didn't catch many fish but did get heaps of Dungeness crab

Crab with lemon butter, crab cakes, crab fettucini, crab omelettes, crab spreads...

There are over 40 ancient rock carvings at Wrangell's Petroglyph Beach

We were completely isolated in almost every anchorage.
At this one, we found lots of wild blueberries on shore and made yummy pancakes.

The Anan Bay Bear Observatory was a highlight of our trip.
In amazingly close proximity, we were able to watch bears fish, 

catch,

and eat salmon

Metlakatla is an actively self-governed Tsimshian community
and the only Indian Reserve in Alaska.

Culture is a high priority.
This is their newest totem pole, next to a new set of rock carvings.

Concerned about the price of meat due to the pandemic,
this fisherman decided to help his community by giving away salmon at the dock.

Goodbye, Alaska!