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Our story

Last November marked five years (five years!) since we sailed into New Zealand, dropping Wondertime‘s hook in the dark Bay of Islands waters. A lot has happened since then: trips to the US (some long, some short), motoring around New Zealand, a Tongan interlude, settling down (for now), getting a naughty boatcat, finding our way back to our roots … on the sea.

But all of that pales in comparison to the eighteen months we spent voyaging from Seattle to New Zealand. That journey across the Pacific Ocean will always define us: it changed us, it made us grow, it stretched us in unimaginable ways. Those months cemented our family together, bonds that have since been tested (and will no doubt continue to be) and held strong. Our daughters are begging to continue exploring this world; they know how big it is, and how small. Remembering how scared shitless, bored, frustrated, stressed, nauseous I was at times keeps me going when I want to give up because I know I’ve got this, and bliss is right around the corner.

Sometimes I’d hop onto our website, read old trip entries. And though I swear I can remember everything, reading our stories was often like reliving it all over again. One thing sure is clear: the Johnson family who left Seattle were not the same people who arrived in New Zealand. What defines a voyage, really. Recently, I gathered the best of the entries, cut out the boring bits, edited and formatted them just for us to read. To hold a physical book in our hands, the story of how we got here, of how we came to be who we are today.

Then I thought, maybe someone else would like to read it too, either again or for the first time? So here it is: our story.

But don’t worry: it’s not over yet. It never is.

(If you do decide to buy and read a copy, please let me know what you think, either through a book review, email, or blog comment. As always, we’d love to hear from you!)

Two Months.

how we hope to spend next week

We left Olympia two months ago today. In some ways it seems like we left E dock yesterday, but the heavy weight of our buckets of memories makes it feel like years ago.

Our friend and crewmember Garth will join us on Friday. If the weather forecast is still clear we will sail due south from Ucluelet towards San Francisco. Our plan is to stick to the inshore route, that is, 10-20 miles off the coast. This area typically has lighter winds although we will have to contend with more shipping traffic and possibly more fog. However should the forecast turn unfavorable we can easily stop in Grays Harbor, Newport, Coos Bay, Crescent City, Eureka.

We’re extremely grateful that we decided to sail down the west coast of Vancouver Island after all; the trip has given the girls and us valuable experience sailing in ocean swells and much greater confidence in sailing together as a family. It’s going to be a whole different ballgame sailing 24/7 for six or seven or eight days straight though without the chance to stretch our legs. I’m thinking it will be like our other long days off the coast have been with lots of naps and much of my time just spent preparing food and cleaning up the aftermath of meals. And hanging on.

For weeks I’ve been quite nervous about our upcoming passage, to the point where I’d be nearly shaking with anxious chills. This is my third trip down this coast and I know how ugly it can get out there. But as the time to depart has come closer I (we) have gotten more and more excited about simply being in California and all the new and old friends we are anxious to meet up with. Weather forecasting has gotten a lot better in the past 10 years and we’ve certainly gotten better at reading it. And after navigating around all these treacherous rocks and islets off Vancouver Island the past few weeks I’m truly looking forward to being out in clear open water for a while.

It’s been becoming more and more of a struggle to stay focused on the present, to savor these last days in the Northwest. At least five times an hour I think of the upcoming trip and what’s on our to-do list before we depart on Saturday and get a little shiver of nervousness and a flutter of excitement about the long glorious hours of sailing ahead and our landfall in an entirely new landscape.

So, today, two months after leaving in Olympia, we pulled back into Ucluelet which is our last Canadian port. We’ll do laundry again, buy some provisions, sew up some leecloths for the girl’s bunks, inspect the rigging, restock our ditch bag, button up down below, and head to the playground in town a few more times. The shakedown is over, now it’s time to sail.

Video: an afternoon sail on the west coast of Vancouver Island

When we headed out from quiet Queen Cove Tuesday afternoon the wind forecast was for 15-20 knots. As has often happened out here what the forecasters promise doesn’t always hold true and we’ve found ourselves motoring through a gale warning more than once. Not this day. Just a few miles south of Esperanza Inlet the NW wind filled in as promised, filled our spinnaker and we were off. We settled the girls down below with a few DVDs and Michael and I sat in the cockpit with huge grins on our faces just relishing the absolutely perfect sail. It was the kind of afternoon that made all the hard work to get here completely worth it.

We sailed with our spinnaker up all the way past Estevan Point, 30 miles or so. After we were past the point, we took the colorful sail down and we turned to port, now on a beam reach with genoa, main and mizzen all the way to Hot Springs Cove, ready for a good long soak.

 

Riding the ebb to someplace new

Last night while I was tucking Holly into bed she asked me: “Where are we going to be after breakfast?” She was referring to the fact that nearly every morning for the past week she’s woken up while we’ve been underway and eaten her breakfast in the cockpit while we’ve made our way to someplace new.

Michael and I have been getting up at the crack of dawn each morning to travel north. It’s definitely not my preferred hour of waking but the tides are calling the shots. We’ve been riding the ebb north, through rapids and channels 600 feet deep flanked by peaks thousands of feet tall, making our way to the northern tip of Vancouver Island. Weather permitting, we’ll round Cape Scott this weekend and point our bow south for a good long time.

While we thought that sailing these long stretches (well, truth be told, motoring) would be tedious we’ve all quickly fallen into a comfortable routine. Michael and I wake with the sunrise, have a cup of coffee, haul anchor, then get underway. We get a few hours of traveling in before the girls wake (usually around 9 – the engine is a wonderful white noise generator!) The girls have breakfast and play in the cockpit with us or down below for a few hours and we usually reach our next anchorage by noon and have the afternoon to play and explore. We’ve swam in Pender Harbour, eaten ice-cream in the sunshine in Squirrel Cove in Desolation Sound, hiked around Big Bay singing loudly in case any bears were nearby, visited the 100+ year old store/post office (now museum) in Port Neville and now we are in Alert Bay absorbing thousands of years of Northwest Native culture and history.

Michael and I have been savoring this trip down memory lane. We’ve sailed this way three times now and it’s even more magnificent up here than we remember. Along the way, we came to see it was necessary for us to make this trip around the island after all. We have been getting used to our boat and her routines, learning to work together onboard again, and the girls have been learning what it means to sail full time. We are challenged each and every day by wind, weather, rocks, tides, currents, emotions.

Most of all, each day is absolutely filled with wonder, as we hoped it would be.

Swimming on the Sunshine Coast (Garden Bay, Pender Harbour)

P.S. Loads of photos just uploaded to our Flickr account!