Wilderness Places…

One does not have to be in an entirely unpopulated place to be  in a wilderness. Or be lost, either. I'm actually beginning to think a large part of being in a wilderness is a state of mind. Since we began our journey north on June first, we haven't gone very far as miles go. Yet, we have gone miles and miles. 

There are eighty islands in the San Juans, most of which look fairly much the same. In fact, if you didn't have charts to refer to, it would be easy to get turned around. Or even lost. Not to mention tides that can change twenty feet, or more, in a single turning and leave you high and dry if you're not watchful. Sometimes, the fog rolls in so thick you can't see the front of your own boat, much less what might be in the ocean nearby. 

Then there are the currents. 

It's like a maze in and around those islands, and the narrower the channel, the swifter the current. Sometimes, we've had to skirt around little whirlpools formed by the collision of a low tide, strong current, and narrow channel all at the same time.  You also have to watch out for areas that are open to the sea. The "doorways to the world" I call them. Here you get a taste of the underlying swells of "big water" that seems to be the constant heartbeat of the ocean. 

Photo by Todd Stahlecker

If ever a wind comes up (especially off a cape) and frosts these swells with a choppy sea, it can be a very rough and scary ride. More so if you've been reading about all the sunken ships there are on the outward coasts of those islands. All of which make the phrase "If you can sail the San Juans, you can sail anywhere in the world," seem true. Because surely we have come across every condition and situation possible, in and around these waters.

Which doesn't include the many mechanical failures we've added to the ordinary hazards of sailing and navigation. So much to learn! And so much we were entirely unaware of until it happened to us. But I must report that we have survived all our accidents and misjudgments. And that God has been gracious to rescue us out of the rest "by divine appointment" that we blundered into out of sheer ignorance. Those things that should have, by logic, gone very bad. 

Which is probably why I have a first hand idea of what the children of Israel must have felt when they discovered they had been wandering forty years in an area they could have crossed in forty days. The thought that God Himself had been leading them with "a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night" makes one wonder how they could still go on trusting Him after all that. Even though they saw a lot of miracles along the way. 

Rowing to town in a fog

Having some of the same experiences on this adventure of ours, I can understand why He might have done that. It was because where they were headed for was a lot bigger and more difficult than they realized. And they weren't ready for it. So, the training grounds of wilderness places. Along with all those experiences that strengthened the body and sharpened the wits along the way. 

Today, we are sitting "on the hook" (at anchor) in Port Townsend, waiting for repairs. Again. It's only eight hours -- a mere forty-five minutes by car--away from Liberty Bay, where we first started out. That's a long way from Alaska, where we had figured to be there and back by now. Instead, we have meandered in and out of the San Juan Islands, and ventured only as far as the border of Canada before we had to turn south, again. 

We haven't quit. But we're not sure how long it will take to actually get there, anymore. One thing we do know, though. We're on "His clock" with this journey, and there are miracles and divine appointments raining down all around us, wherever we go. So, we've decided to let go, let God… and hang on for the ride.

Because it's going to be a good one.

Independence Day... Finally!

On June first, we left Liberty Bay to follow our dreams and see if God had a divine assignment for us. Especially since He had miraculously given us some very unusual equipment. But there were "giants in the land." Being met with long delays on the heels of one disaster after another, we decided to try once more to head north on the Glory B.

But we were turned back.

So, we tried, again. And were turned back, again. We simply could not get past the problem of seawater flooding the bilge every time we got under way. We began to wonder if there were some reason we were still in Friday Harbor. Something we had overlooked, or still needed to do while we were here.

I have to admit the Captain and I were both getting extremely disappointed. Because there is a window of time involved here, that -- if we miss -- will make it too late to start for Alaska this year. This because the weather changes drastically in September along the Inside Passage, and our mild lovely days could change to cold and cantankerous almost overnight. And we are not equipped for cold and cantankerous at this time.

Meanwhile, it was racing on toward a two week commitment we had made to take the grandkids on a camping trip while Mom and Dad went on a missions trip to Belarus. Something we had originally planned to fly back from Alaska to do. But that plan would be a near impossibility if we were still off in some remote location in Canada. Logistically speaking, it simply wouldn't be so easy to hop a plane from those places. Not to mention the kind of money it would take just to connect up with one. 

So it was that we made one last ditch repair, and tried one more time. But instead of heading out into open water toward Canada, we decided to make a tentative "shakedown cruise" around San Juan Island, to see how well all systems would hold up. They held up beautifully! And finally it was Independence Day…

For all of us. 

Now the question is whether we should go ahead and see how far north we can get, or wait for next year. And we will be earnestly  praying about that over the next two weeks. And, as always, any suggestions or ideas would be appreciated, as well.

Hold Everything!

View from the ferry dock

Nothing is as serious on a boat between ports than to go down below for something and discover the entire cabin is awash with water. There is only one thing I can think of that is worse. It's when you go down below, and the entire cabin is awash with black oil. 

If you should also be in a narrow channel between islands with a fleet of giant ferry boats passing by every thirty minutes, you not only begin to wonder what to do next, but what in the world it was that tempted you to be out there in the first place. I usually blame everything on the Captain and remind him that he is responsible for my life. Something I am not proud of, but I'm trying to be honest, here.

I felt something like this...
 but not as pretty

As usual, things always look worse than they really are (hmm… that almost sounds like sermon material). The oil was not new oil. It was the same stuff that had drained the engine when the hydraulic hose broke, last week. We hadn't pumped those eight quarts out of the bilge, yet, because it is against the law to do that. You have to pump it all into a bucket and dispose of it properly. Preferably at some official recycle center. But one doesn't run into a lot of those in the places we've been lately. Which is why we were waiting until we got to the next big place. 

Underneath those eight quarts, however, was about two hundred gallons of seawater. Which turned out not to be coming from a hole in the boat, but a malfunctioning pump that was letting water in instead of keeping it out. An easy fix if you don't count the hours it took to clean up the mess. 

Meanwhile, we are resting (literally) at anchor in Friday Harbor, in the San Juan Islands (a place where we actually used to live many years ago). It is our last stop before crossing over into Canada. I'm not sure how long we will be here. A couple days if all goes well, and a couple weeks if it doesn't. The nice thing is that it doesn't matter. 

Rowing back from town

Not even the fact that we are laying over in one of the most expensive tourist spots in the state at the busiest time of the season. Because we brought our own world with us. Our little home on the water is packed with everything we need for weeks on end. So, we live the same whether anchored in some deserted cove, or in the middle of a busy harbor. Not to mention we have the most "high dollar" view in town. 

Wow. More good sermon material.