Lyn's Log, 19th September 2008
Oregon coast

Sausolito, California
N37º51', W122º29'
19,171 miles.

On 1st September we left Gray's Harbor with smoother seas and -at last- a north breeze actually helping us. The wind was light at first, so we motor sailed and then sailed through the night and all the next day. By evening we were off the town of Newport in Oregon and with forecasts of deteriorating weather, rather than continue southwards we decided to put in.

It was to prove a much longer than expected stay, as gale force winds blew up to the south and then eventually around Newport itself. The entrance is through an attractive bridge over the Yaquina River (above). More yachts arrived in the next couple of days, all caught like us waiting to continue heading south when the weather improved. But we had a jolly time together in Newport, which like Grays Harbor is a big fishing port, but the old fishing area is now very touristy. We took the free shuttle bus, which does an hour-long loop around the town, and did some shopping. The aquarium was only five minutes walk away from the marina and is one of the best we have seen, with clear, well-presented tank displays. Outside had been cleverly fashioned in artificial rocks and pools around which paths meandered. Windows in the rocks gave views into the pools where we watched them feeding the sea otters and the sea lions.

At the weekend, a big surfing competition was being held on the nearby beach, so we took the long walk out over the sand dunes to sample the west coast surfing scene. Some of the guys were good, but even more spectacular were the kite surfers tearing across the water and leaping high over the waves.

Right beside the marina was Rogues Brewery. Here we tasted lots of their products though sadly we decided that instead of making twenty different beers that were not really to our liking, perhaps they should have concentrated on getting just a few right. But they also produced a very drinkable gin. We bought a bottle from their nearby tiny distillery, where we met the distiller himself who signed the bottle!

The weather on land was warm and sunny with a strong breeze that blew up in the afternoons, whereas outside there were hazardous seas of high waves and high short swells. It was not much of a hardship to stay on land a while. But after a week everyone was itching to leave. One day several boats set out, including Dave and Debbie on Wave Sweeper, and John and Barb on Naida, but we thought it would still be rough from the gales, and so it proved. Naida returned with water leak in the engine. Next morning it was our turn, and we left just after Angus and Rolande on Periclees. Fog was clinging along the coast, and when we came out of it there was no sign of Periclees. I spotted a grey whale only a couple of boat lengths away from us. It was charging towards Sentinel and I could see the huge width of its body, and then its fluked tail as it dived right under us. Very exciting, but by the time Andrew had got up on deck, it was nowhere to be seen.

The swell was still high, rolling us, but with the wind still strong we were making good speed with our Aries windvane steering, helped by deploying a weighted warp off the stern. Before nightfall we took down the main sail and sailed just as fast under the genoa alone. I slept for a couple of hours from midnight and awoke freezing cold. We were nearing Coos Bay in southern Oregon and the wind was forecast to get yet stronger, so when Andrew asked if we should stop there, with my teeth chattering I said "Yes". We reached the outer entrance buoy at three in the morning and after calling the coastguard for clearance to enter, there was a thick bank of fog inshore and we could not find the fairway buoys. Coos Bay is another harbour with a dangerous sandbar at the entrance, so we felt it was safest to wait outside for the fog to lift. The CG called back later to ask why we hadn't come in, then told us they were coming out in their boat at dawn to assess the conditions, so if we liked we could follow them back in.

That was fine but once tied up they decided to give a couple of juniors practice at doing an inspection, just as they had at Westport. When all we wanted to do was crash, we had to spend half an hour answering banal questions. ("What state are you from?" "England." "What's its two-letter code?" "UK." "We don't have UK on the form, shall we put AK [Alaska]?"). It reminded me of Caribbean bureaucracy, the important thing is to get every check-box filled, no matter with what nonsense. After I had to demonstrate my fog horn, scattered flares all round the cockpit, and they had quizzed Andrew as to whether his British Yachtmaster Certification included a US coastguard-approved safety course, mercifully they did admit enough was enough.

There is not much to say about the rest of this passage. It was still thick fog when we left Coos Bay, but with the wind now light and southerly, it was mainly motoring. Cape Mendocino, the major turning point of the Pacific coast, was rounded and the weather grew milder. A little bird, an American Redstart, landed on board. It was like a chaffinch. It kept hopping up to me and once even onto my arm. It flew down into the cabin but fortunately flew out again. Then we lost sight of it and are not sure if it took flight or hid under our dinghy. While Andrew was listening to his iPod, some Pacific White-sided dolphins came to play with us. They appeared each time a Led Zeppelin track came on, then moved away for the quieter stuff! Later a seal swam alongside, leaping out the water as if to jump aboard, then clapping his fins. We ran into an area of gigantic jellyfish, some in psychodelic colours of bright red and yellow. "Must be getting close to San Francisco", said Andrew, "even the jellyfish are on acid".

We anchored briefly in Drake's Bay, a sheltered bay where Sir Francis Drake is known to have anchored for a few days in 1579 during his circumnavigation. Somehow he missed the entrance to San Francisco harbour just a few miles away. We didn't make the same mistake. On the afternoon of 19th September, with the last of the flood tide, we passed under the world-famous Golden Gate bridge, for once not shrouded by fog. We had logged a thousand miles from Vancouver.