Sailing with Jason and the Oysternauts

We were planning to rendezvous with some of our float-mates across the channel from Shilshole, but we developed a sewage leak (ewww...). That put us out of commission until we cleaned it up, emptied our holding tank, attached the doggie ladder, lubed the winches (no, this is not double entendre), and did several other necessary projects.

The harbor has free pumpout facilities, so that's nice. The night before we kayaked over to check out the facility, and a sailboat pulled in. We paddled over and asked them, "Do you mind if we watch you do this?"

They reluctantly told us, "Sure, knock yourselves out."

So we watched them suck out their s**t - with wonder and fascination as it flowed like pancake batter through the clear tubing and into the deep and satisfying vacuum of 'somebody else's problem'.

Oh, this glamourous yachting life of ours.
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On Sunday, we got our icky problems solved and fired up the engine to leave the harbor for our second time. As we were leaving the dock, our slip-mates pulled back in, so we missed the rendezvous, but we decided to head over to Port Madison just the same and drop the hook for lunch. We got the sail up a bit, but mostly motored over. The port was chockful of boats, floating docks, mooring balls, and kayakers, and only 10 feet deep, so we had a lot to think about as we looked for a spot to anchor. Anchoring went well, and lunch was nice, though it will take us some time to feel comfortable among such a crowded place with people and houses all around. The lack of a public beach was also a drag for Chance. So he had to stay aboard.

Mo got to be heroine for the day before breakfast, even. Buster, a random doggie on a run, decided to jump into the harbor. Here he is as his poor owner tries to figure out how to get him back up. Apparently, he just lept over the fence and down the six-foot breakwater to see what the low tide had exposed.

Mo jumped to action and grabbed the kayak to save the day, and Buster's poor embarrassed owner. Buster wasn't really happy with kayaking for the first time, but figured it out.Chance, in the meantime, was frantically readying the boat for the day's sail...

Our first guest brave enough to go out sailing with us was Blain's college friend Jason. They had done many foolish things together at the U. of Puget Sound, so Blain figured he'd be up to at least one more.

He turned out to be a good hand. Having some sailing experience, he knew not to panic when the captain can't point the boat the right way, or when the wind really starts whipping. We'd reefed the main sail down in the harbor, knowing it might be a little strong out there. We were glad we had, when the waves and windspeed picked up on our homeward reach. We had the strongest winds we've seen, and as you can see, several other gorgeous boats were out and about enjoying themselves in the stiff breeze - though with a lot more sail out than we had. The more sail out, the faster you go, but also the more you lean over, and the more stuff you have to pick up from off the floor.

The waves built, and the sails flogged wildly, as Mo recommended we take down sail and head in. The thought hadn't occured to Jason or Blain who were, well, absorbed by the out-of-control nature of the situation.

Getting back into the slip in the wind was a bit tricky, but there was no yelling, and once Blain got the boat parallel in the float, instead of perpendicular, Oystercatcher slid into the slot like she knew where to go.

All in all, we only sailed a few miles, back and forth roughly in a big circle, but we gained far more in experience and courage. Jason, you have an open invitation anytime you want to go sailing.

And Chance - he resumed his usual frantic lifestyle.

The big boat parade and the local scene

The annual Opening Day on Lake Washington was truly cool. It started when one of the canals was opened for the first time linking lakes Union and Washington to the sea. The Ballard Locks near us are what keeps the water in. It was a big deal, so they keep the tradition alive with pomp, circumstance, and, we guess, a lot of alcohol. The dragon boats were first. A little less syncopated than the rowing crews, it was fun to see these huge canoes. Note the cowboy hat on the dragon bowsprit. The theme was the "Wild Wild West".

The crew races were next, and U. of Washington, second best in the nation, pretty much dominated everyone. Mo was impressed at the strength and sheer size of the UW Amazon women. Blain thought the skinny little Brazilian team was more photogenic, and surprisingly less amazonian.

From the Montlake Bridge, the view of the races was amazing. When all the boats paraded past underneath, the sight was remarkable.

Here's the Montlake Bridge loaded to the gills with people. The Seattle fireboat started the parade off in fine style. Good thing we were all in rain gear.

The western theme soon became more obvious.

These pocket steamboats had the loudest whistles, without a doubt.

And what parade would be complete without the amphibious car/boats?

And some ducks? The loon was cool. too.

So a great parade.

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We thought we'd show you a bit of the neighborhood. After a wet parade, the coffee in Fremont was nice and hot. Fremont is a bit eclectic and home to large Google and Adobe offices. The central core, i.e. "The Center of the Known Universe", is packed with import shops, cafes, bike stores, and perhaps had a bit of a vagrancy problem.

These plasma-looking benches caught our eye.

And yes, there is a statue of Lenin. Not sure why, except we heard the owner picked it up cheap after the Iron Curtain fell. At least one locally made beer celebrates him with their "Red Menace" beer. Blain can attest that the beer lives up to its namesake. All of the Hale Brewery beers are great. And that, from a beer snob. Their Hale Cream Ale is fit for a god.

We blew up the kayak and paddled around Shilshole Marina to a sweet little beach on the breakwater for a frisbee session with Chance.

Shorthly after this shot, we were skedaddling home before a huge rain cloud rolled through. We dawdled a bit too long and got soaked. Good fun.

It's been asked, "Just what language does Good Life and Oystercatcher use the same letters?"

In case you didn't guess, the answer is:

Upper Glix'wqni. It's a native dialect from coastal BC. After the very hard winters they faced and the supplies of dried dogfish and catfish became dangerously low, the annual black oystercatcher migration would pass through their area. Often, entire villages were faced with starvation but the almost miraculous timing of this migration brought food o'plenty to their tables.

The villagers would lure the oystercatchers into their kitchens by pulling on a string attached to a large oyster shell. Being predatory, the birds would attack these giant shells, thinking they were their preferred food, Crassostrea marioandretiicus and hang on like Croatian pitbulls, thus allowing the Glix'wqni to reel them in like a large walleye.

So thankful for this heaven-sent abundance, the Glix'wqni term for these birds and living the "good life" is "qktnig'kxka".

Sadly, there are no living speakers of the language, so verification can't be done.