June 26, 2017: Flying to Eagle Harbor

Shortly after 9 am, Walt and I having shared Morning Prayer, Walt freed Braesail from its mooring buoy and we motored out of Fossil Bay, hoping to find a buoy in Eagle Harbor Aquatic Reserve on Cypress Island (where none were available on Friday afternoon). We encountered many tide rips ruffling the water and then larger swells appeared, the wind rose to some 20 knots (about 25 mph), and white-caps arose and broke backward, sending their foamy plumes sliding down behind them as they raced forward, but the boat bounded through it all at a good speed, sending lacy fans of spray to either side of the bow that splashed onto the deck and sparkled in the sunshine. We had quite an exciting ride that left speckles and streaks of salt on all the port lights!

Baker from Eagle Harbor
Mt. Baker’s haughty height as seen between two of the Cone Islands at the entrance to Eagle Harbor

We arrived in Eagle Harbor at about 11:30 am, and found that there were plenty of unoccupied buoys. I snagged one with the boat hook, but had somehow managed to tangle the bow line around the bow rail, and it took Walt and me a little more time to free it and thread it through the buoy’s top ring than it should have taken.  Our space was near the bottom of a rugged wall of gray stone down which was draped a tapestry of golden grasses, creamy wild flower blossoms, and small trees. Little ripples played around its feet, giggling and gurgling and chattering as they tried and failed to climb the cliff face. I was still feeling not at all well, so spent most of the day in the bright cockpit, enjoying  the watery music made by the wavelets that lapped at the boat and the rocks (I could imagine myself lounging comfortably in the middle of a brook flowing happily around me!), the avian conversations that floated across the harbor, and the cool breath of the breeze against my face. I read, wrote, napped, ate one of Walt’s excellent sandwiches for lunch, and slept again. Because running Braesail’s diesel engine produces hot water, Walt took a shower, but I found that I simply didn’t have the energy to do likewise. He finished his book, God and Enchantment of Place, by David Brown, moved on to a second one by Brown, and was happy to learn that the bow thruster’s gear box had arrived at the repair facility in Anacortes–CHEERS! Now we need to confirm that Braesail can be hauled out of the water on Wednesday so that the gear box can be installed and tested; we can also replenish our supplies of water, propane, and diesel fuel, buy a few groceries, and continue on our way north to meet Walt’s mom, brother, and sister-in-law on Vancouver Island.

Supper was a white bean, bacon, garden greens, and cheese casserole, and I managed to down my portion despite the fact that my senses of smell and taste had decided to take the night off. I summoned the energy to clean the galley and store the food, and  spent some time inhaling steam from our little round red kettle–which felt wonderful!–before finding my way to bed early; perhaps getting even MORE sleep will help to defeat this obnoxious cold!

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