Chapter 2—Outward Bound: Seattle to Tofino
Map of our passage outward bound--Seattle to Tofino. Even in August it’s brisk on the Puget Sound at 5:00AM. I pull on a second Pategonia and peer over the Patience’s royal blue dodger. We are alone on the Sound. I don’t think anyone else is stupid enough to get up this early to start a vacation. As usual, our departure time is highly tide dependant—we leave Seattle when the tide is going out. Period.
We are motoring into about an 8 knot northerly wind. While sailing the boat today would be fun, it is a losing proposition. The Patience is not particularly fast upwind, and we have 67 nautical miles to cover. We are headed north up the Puget Sound, eventually bound for Clayoquot Sound on the west coast of Vancouver Island. Today’s destination is Port Angeles on the southern side of the Straits of Juan de Fuca. We literally roar up northern Puget Sound doing a current-assisted 6 – 9 knots the whole way. Around 8:00AM, I see an enormous Arco oil tanker crawling southward towards Seattle or Tacoma. She is escorted by two Foss tugs.
Amy sleeps most of the morning in the v-berth, but gets up in time to see the 9:00AM squadron of float planes fly over, headed north for the San Juans and Gulf Islands. At Point Wilson, we deviate from our standard itinerary and turn 90 degrees to port. Instead of heading straight out across the Straits, we are going to hug the southern shoreline. Our course will take us inside of Protection Island, near Dungeness Spit and then on to Port Angeles. We pass Cape George (the Patience’s name sake and place of manufacture) and skirt the entrance to Discovery Bay. The famous British explorer George Vancouver named both Discovery Bay and Protection Island in 1792 when he explored this area. Vancouver anchored his ships the Discovery (hence the Bay’s name) and the Chatham in Discovery Bay (then called Port Discovery). Vancouver used the bay to refit his ships and give his crew some of the first leisure time they enjoyed since the voyage had started in England in 1791.
Water tower on Protection Island--looking north. Fortunately, leisure time is in abundance on the Patience in 1999. I listen to the awesome Edwin McCain Messenger album on the ghetto blaster as I sip my beer and take photos of Protection Island. The island is beautiful today. It looks very barren and scraggly; the dry grass on the island contrasts starkly with the blue sky and lightly rippled water of the Straits. The entire island is now off-limits to the public and is a seabird and seal sanctuary. The cloud cover has burned off, and it has turned into a beautiful day.
Dead ahead, about 5 nautical miles away is Sequim Bay. Travis Spit protects this nearly land-locked bay. While we won’t be going to Sequim this trip, I did take the Patience there in Thanksgiving of 1993. After a raging sail up the Puget Sound in a southerly gale, we pulled into Sequim Bay for the night. After looking at the charts and reading the Coast Pilot, I had been nervous about the entrance to the bay. However, when we actually brought the Patience through, it turned out to be easy and well marked. One of my friend’s families had us out to their cabin on Dungeness Spit for a great Thanksgiving dinner that year.
Sequim has a fantastic marina on the northwest side of the bay called the John Wayne Marina. When he was alive, John Wayne was frequently seen cruising the Northwest in his converted minesweeper, the Wild Goose. I remember once as a kid seeing him in Roche Harbor, and wondering what all the commotion was about. Anyway, he apparently frequently anchored the Wild Goose in Sequim Bay. After his death in 1979, his estate was kind enough to donate the land where the modern marina bearing his name now stands. The marina was completed in 1985 and has many modern conveniences—nice showers, a chandlery, a small but good restaurant and well maintained cement floats. The bay is nestled under the Olympic Mountains and is beautiful and well protected. Sequim is a little known, but great stopover in this part of the Northwest.
The New Dungeness Lighthouse at Dungeness Spit. The lighthouse stands 63' feet high. I have also come to Sequim Bay to sail our Thistle sailing dingy. Every year, the Tacoma Thistle Fleet hosts a regatta in the bay. For two days we sail out of the marina and camp at Sequim Bay State park, which is about 1.3 nautical miles south of John Wayne Marina. Cruisers should be aware that as an alternative to John Wayne Marina, Sequim Bay State Park has dock space and buoys for a very reasonable use fee. The races are held in the bay itself, to the southeast of the marina. The regattas have changed months in recent years, but don’t be surprised if you see a Thistle regatta any time in July or August.
At the southwest corner of Protection Island, we turn right around buoy #1 and make a course for the New Dungeness Lighthouse. The lighthouse marks Dungeness Spit and was completed in 1857. The tower originally stood 100 feet (30.5 meters), but was reduced to the current 63 feet (19.2 meters) in 1927 reduce deterioration. Contrary to popular belief, Dungeness Spit, Bay and Lighthouse were not named after prehistoric-looking crab with the same name. George Vancouver named these geographic features “Dungeness” because they bore great resemblance to Dungeness (either a town or a point) in the British channel. One can probably assume the spit looked significantly different in Vancouver’s time. It is said the 5 ½ mile (8.6 kilometer) spit grows at an average rate of 15 feet (4.6 meters) per year, which would put the spit at about 4 ½ miles (7.2 kilometers) in length when Vancouver was here. The continual growth of the spit also explains why the lighthouse does not mark the actual tip of the spit. Like Protection Island, most of the areas around Dungeness Spit are a National Wildlife Refuge. 631 acres have been set aside, and 250 species of birds, 41 species of mammals and 8 species of marine mammals have been recorded there.
Outbound Maersk container ship dropping off his pilot in front of Port Angeles. From having walked a small part of the refuge, I can attest to its beauty. The beaches are a typical northwest mixture of sand and stone. Distorted pieces of gray driftwood contrast against the grass growing above the high water line. The Olympics (the mountain range to the south of the Straits of Juan de Fuca) are clearly visible to the southwest. There is still snow on some of the peaks even in August. From higher vantage points, Dungeness Spit seems to stretch on forever. The New Dungeness Light seems remarkably far away. A loud surf pounds the north side of the spit, while the beach on the south side of the spit is calm, almost stagnant. On a windy day, this would be a wild and exposed place. I mentally note that it would be worth coming back by car sometime on a clear, windy winter day.
I break the rules and cut the corner on the Dungeness Spit buoy. The weather is nice, but still a little cool. It is about 69 Fahrenheit (20.6 Celsius) in the cockpit. There are thunderclouds over the Olympics, but it is perfectly clear on the Straits. We continue west towards Port Angeles.
A couple miles out of Port Angeles, we watch an outbound Maersk Line container ship drop-off his pilot. The approximately 40 foot (12.2 meter) red and white pilot boat looks like a toy alongside the massive Maersk container ship. The exchange between the container ship and the pilot boat takes all of a few minutes. The Puget Sound Pilot’s Association provides pilots for ships that travel in and out of the Puget Sound, while the Victoria and Vancouver Pilot’s Associations provide pilots for ships headed in/out of Canadian waters. The red and white pilot boats are constantly seen hustling around Port Angeles, shuffling pilots to and fro.
Looking west over Port Angles. Ediz Hook and the Straits of Juan de Fuca in distance. We check out the Port Angles City Pier, but ultimately decide to spend the night at the Port Angeles Boat Haven —about a nautical mile further west. We are moored on the main visitor dock with about four sailboats that are all headed for California. Moorage is a bargain US$13.40 and the showers at the top of the pier are only US$0.25 for three minutes.
Port Angeles turns out to be a pleasant surprise. In all honesty, we didn’t have high expectations—this stop was more of a logistical requirement than a destination in of itself. It is a beautiful evening when we take our walk around town. The center of town is an easy half-mile walk east from the Boat Haven. The town has beautiful flowers everywhere and a number of cool stores. You can get a nice view of the city, Ediz Hook (the sandspit that protects Port Angeles) and the Straits of Juan de Fuca if you take the short hike up the stairs to the bluff south of the central downtown area. The Olympic Mountain Range is to the south of Port Angeles with the foothills starting almost directly behind the town. The granddaddy of the Olympic Mountain Range, 7,954 foot (2,424 meter) Mount Olympus, is only 20 nautical miles away from Port Angeles as the crow flies. In town, there is a Lamonts (probably not called that anymore since they went bankrupt), a great bookstore and a well-stocked Safeway on Lincoln Street. I predict that by 2020 or 2030 they will build a bridge to the Olympic Peninsula. The timber industry will get phased out and Port Angeles will become a thriving cosmopolitan city. Ok, perhaps I’m a little out there, but this is a beautiful location.
Red can #4 off Port Angeles. Olympic Mountain Range looking up in background. Patched fog soon becomes dense fog. The next morning we observe a magnificent sunrise through patched fog. Little do I know that fog will soon become a theme of this trip. I haul the radar reflector up the flag halyard and we make our departure. The snowcapped mountaintops behind Port Angeles are beautiful in the rising run and patchy fog. Even with a very light wind opposing the strong 1.9 knot ebb, rip tides and waves are piling up on the shoal off Angeles Point. I would definitely go outside this shoal if a strong westerly was hitting an ebb tide (or vice versa). For today, we tolerate the rocking and rolling and head across the shoal, seeing a minimum depth of 55 feet (16.8 meters).
At about 9:00AM we motor into really thick fog. Visibility is reduced to a claustrophobic 1/32 of a nautical mile. Fortunately we are out of the freighter lanes and there is not much coastal traffic up and down this part of the coast. Our course to Neah Bay is pretty much a straight shot—we stay a mile or two off the beach the whole way. The radar whirs around while moisture from the fog accumulates on the backstays, and drips on my head like Chinese water torture. At one point, a US Fisheries Patrol boat zooms in out of the fog and pulls up within hailing distance. He hails us, asking if we have seen any other boats. When we reply “negative” he powers-up and quickly disappears back into the pea soup. The tide is continuing to ebb at over 2 knots and we are definitely making good speed over the bottom. Even in the Straits, it makes good sense to check the tide tables.
We continue motoring in this eerie void until the fog lifts at around 1:30PM. We have little time to enjoy the panoramic views around us before the westerly starts to blow. Within half an hour, we have about 20 knots of wind dead on our bow. Predictably, this slows progress, but fortunately we are nearly there. The entrance to Neah Bay is straightforward using chart 18484 (1:10,000 scale), and we arrive safely around 3:15PM.
Looking north at Makah Marina, Neah Bay, Washington. Mainland to left, Waaadah Island to right. I truly don’t know what I expect to find at Neah Bay—there is little written about the place in cruising guides. Friends of mine stopped here in their sailboat about five years ago, and they lead me to believe there is not too much there. We have low expectations, and the anchor is on the ready. With this mental backdrop, suffice it to say I am surprised to find the ultra-modern Makah Marina. This nice 200 slip marina opened on May 16th 1997. The US$8 million marina is fully protected by a 1,700 foot (518.2 meter) breakwater. I’m not sure exactly who the “target audience” is for the mega-marina, since the fishing industry is in the tank and Neah Bay isn’t a typical destination resort for mega-yachts, but I guess that really isn’t my problem. We tie up in an enormous 70 foot (21.3 meter) slip after putting on 46 gallons (174.2 liters) of diesel at the gas dock (just to the west of the marina).
Neah Bay feels pretty desolate. The 20+ knot westerly is whistling through the rigging of nearby fish boats. The marina is probably four fifths empty—there is only us, some fishing boats and a few other sailboats. The beautiful high quality floats are so covered in duck and goose dung, you have to carefully watch your step. The fog has lifted, but has been replaced by a low lying marine cloud formation that constantly builds over Cape Flattery and then blows over Neah Bay with the westerly. The result is a cool, partially cloudy and windy day. Amy asks the Fisheries & Game Warden who helped us dock if she thought the clouds would burn off. The warden replies:
“No. It might blow off, but it won’t burn off.”
I am fascinated with Neah Bay; Amy is not.
Later in the day we take a walk east along the main road in town. Neah Bay is well outfitted with amenities. There is gas and diesel and you can get propane down the street. There are showers as well as a well-stocked grocery/general store. Farther down the road is the Makah Museum and a Coast Guard Station. For the truly active (we were not), you can walk the road to Cape Flattery itself. From town, take the rough Cape Loop Road to the northwest for about five miles. When you near the cape, there is a ¾ mile (1.2 kilometer) trail appropriately called the Cape Trail. This trail has been renovated in recent years with boardwalks, stone and gravel steps and handrails. While I have never taken the trail, the pictures I have seen of the sea caves, seastacks and Tatoosh Island are beautiful. For the less physically inclined, there is apparently a viewpoint called the Koitiah Viewpoint a mile of two up the Cape Loop Road. Another potential walk is to go southwest on Arrowhead Road to Makah Bay on the Pacific Ocean side of the cape. Hobuck Beach is a wide sandy cresent at the north end of Makah Bay. The beach is open to the public.
Author playing contortionist in the engine room of the <i>Patience</i>--trying to repair the autopilot. No account of Neah Bay would be complete without at least an obligatory mention of the Makah Whale Hunt. To make short of a complicated issue, recently the Makah Tribe was allowed to continue their traditional whale hunt. This decision made a lot of people angry. I, like many others, watched on television in May 1999 when the Makahs finally hunted and killed their first gray whale in about 80 years. Today (three months later), there doesn’t seem to be much evidence of the media circus that surrounded this town during the hunting season of 1999. There are a few canoes in back yards, but that is about it. No bloodstains on the beach, no angry protestors, no Sea Shepard cutter flying its ensign at half-mast. It’s actually a little anti-climatic. When I think about it, I certainly have mixed feeling. While I would never categorize myself as an environmentalist, I will say, watching the Makahs kill that gray whale on May 18 didn’t do much for me.
I am determined not let the whole whale controversy ruin our vacation, and decide to get busy and try and fix Magic Mike our autopilot. Unfortunately, the pilot has been on the fritz ever since we left Seattle—a major inconvenience. I look like a Cirque du Soleil contortionist as I muck with the pilot in the very rear of the engine room. I find a wire that was broken by the motion of the steering system and declare the repair session a success.
The next morning we press snooze a few too many times and don’t get under way until a leisurely 8:00AM. Now this is vacationing! We are not in a huge rush and the weather looks good, so I take a slight detour to take a peak at famous Cape Flattery, Tatoosh Island and Duncan Rock. Cape Flattery is the northwestern most point of the lower United States. The detour is well worthwhile. From the water, the cape itself is fairly nondescript. Rugged Tatoosh Island lies about 1/3 of a nautical mile northwest of the cape. The passage between Tatoosh Island and the cape is called Hole in the Wall passage. I have never done it, but this passage is said to be navigable by small craft. One would want to pay close attention to weather and current conditions as well as charted reefs in the middle of the passage. Tatoosh Island looks strangely green in the morning mist. Having satisfied my need to see the cape and Tatoosh Island we set course for Barkley Sound. We give the evil looking Duncan Rock a safe berth.
Looking southwest at Tatoosh Island and Lighthouse. Hole in the Wall passage to left. As we leave Duncan Rock astern, I come to the conclusion that the south side of the Straits of Juan de Fuca (Point Wilson to Neah Bay) is a pretty cool cruising area. The Bayliner and Cigarette-Boat crowd don’t congregate here—they are too busy roaring around Lake Washington or across the Straits to Roche Harbor. In three days, we have seen few other pleasure boaters. Those that we have seen are usually true adventurers, on their way south down the coast. I’m not against the more crowded San Juan and Gulf Islands, there is always a time and place for that. It’s just nice that one can find a little seclusion and solitude in the middle of August a mere 40 – 80 nautical miles from Seattle.
We are motoring across the mouth of the Straits of Juan de Fuca towards Barkley Sound. Many, many ships have foundered in this area in the last few hundred years, giving parts of the coastline the nickname, the “Graveyard of the Pacific”. Ships headed northbound from California would miss their right turn into Juan de Fuca (in the fog or at night) and would stream straight into the inhospitable rocky shore on the southwest coast of Vancouver Island. Alternatively, sailing ships caught-out in strong southwesterly gales would be unable to claw off the leeward shore.
Infamous Cape Beale--Southern entrance to Barkley Sound. While the waters are calm today, it gets decidedly rolly as we cross Swiftsure Bank. Swiftsure Bank is probably another good place to avoid if conditions are poor. The ebb pouring out of the mouth of Juan de Fuca is helping us average 6.5 – 8.0 knots. By 1:00PM the morning mist has burned off and it is a beautiful day. Near Cape Beale, we see what I think is a relatively rare lone humpback whale. We follow this beautiful creature as it heads back towards Cape Flattery. After enduring our presence for about 10 minutes, our friend dives deep, not to be seen by us again.
Cape Beale and Barkley Sound are familiar waters and we pull into Bamfield at 3:00PM to clear Canadian Customs. Surprisingly, we are not the only Cape George Cutter at the small dock—the Tally Ho!, a Cape George 31’ is already tied up. We exchange pleasantries before I head up to talk with the officials. My 800 number customs clearance goes fairly smoothly, until we get to the subject of the Patience’s onboard wine cellar:
“How much liquor do you have on board?”
“Twelve bottles of wine.”
“Do you realize you are limited to 1.5 liters of wine per person?”
“Uhhhh, some of it was bottled in Australia.”
“That doesn’t matter. You are limited to 1.5 liters of wine per person.”

[very long uncomfortable silence]

“Your clearance number is …”
Lone Humpback whale (I think) off of Cape Beale. Looking west out to the open Pacific Ocean. I breathe a sigh of relief. After clearing customs, we promptly leave Bamfield and head for Effingham Bay in Barkley Sound's Broken Group. If you are interested in reading more about Bamfield, you can read about it in one of my other stories, Around Vancouver Island. The trip to Effingham Bay is short and easy. The bay is packed with 12 – 14 boats anchored there. We meander in deep to the east corner and secure a great anchorage by the trailhead and stream. That evening we have famous Tones Jones Fajitas for dinner and then circumnavigate Effingham Island by Avon.
We sleep deeply in the peaceful anchorage. The next morning I take the Avon ashore and hike across the east end of the island to the abandoned Indian village. The trail is a 10 – 15 minute easy hike and is marked by pink/red pieces of tape tied to trees. The abandoned Indian site is a beautiful location—pretty much the only beach on all of Effingham Island. On the beach I talk (or try to talk) with a French couple that are anchored near us. They tell me they have been sailing the world for the last 20 years. Hmmm. Perhaps something went wrong on the English–French translation there.
I come back and Amy and I prepare to leave Barkley Sound and head for Clayoquot Sound to the north. You can read more about Barkley Sound in my Around Vancouver Island story as we spent a fair amount of time here during that trip. We leave Barkley Sound via Benson–Clarke Channel. We stay about a mile or two off the coast as we work our way northwards. The coastline between Ucluelet and Tofino is beautiful, with the Vancouver Island mountain range serving as a distant backdrop. Florencia Bay, Wickaninnish Bay and Schooner Cove are all scenic indents along the rocky shoreline. There are hundreds of crab traps along the way, so one needs to pay attention. We navigate inside of Lennard Island Light and into the well marked, but shallow Templar Channel. Templar Channel and the other waters around Wickaninnish Island always remind me of Erskine Childer’s classic 1903 spy novel, The Riddle of the Sands. The sandy shoals, winding channels and all too common fog off Tofino play into my imagination’s version of the North Sea described by Childers. Beautiful beach in front of the abandoned indian village on Effingham Island, Barkley Sound.
There are a number of places too moor in Tofino. The first few spots, including the big public marina are occupied almost entirely with fishing boats. We end up mooring at the private docks in front of the Weigh West Fishing Report. Moorage at the Weigh West is a little spendy at C$39/night, but having stayed at the big public marina before, I think I can attest that the extra expenditure is worth it.

















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