Although I was only offshore for a few days, I still feel wobbly now that I'm back on terra firma. I think I just completed on of the more dangerous things I've ever some in my life by (to somewhat unseasoned people) sailing the treacherous waters of the Cape Flattery at the mouth of the Strait of Juan de Fuca; the tumultuous Washington offshore seas; over the treachey of the Columbia Bar; following the narrow winding Columbia River for 100nm while negotiating the salmon fishermen (with gill nets spanning the entire navigatable channel), huge cargo ships, fog (albeit ony for a very short while), and a shower or two; then the final approach of coming into Porland hoping that the height of your vessel is indeed 66 feet from the water and not from the deck having to clear the 71ft I-5 bridge. You need to hail these bridge operators using specific call letters (which I fortunately found on the software we used to navigate this river - otherwise the briidge tenders will not be that pleasant in acknowledging you. I shouldpost them here in cas anyone searches for this useful information, but right now it's back on the boat a few hundred miles away).
My friend assessed that I ony got three hours of sleep from Saturday morning through Monday night, and all of that was fragmented and from the chilly cockpit. The picture was taken of the Sunday morning sunrise around 7:30am.
At times, I felt like Bilbo Baggins longing to be back at home in the Shire (ie, Belllingham) tending to my garden and wondering what the hell I was doing in this challenging and frequently unpleasant situation. I am glad to settle down foor a winter of relaxation of reading fiction and drinking tea. Until my wanderlust once again overtakes me.
Below is the sunset from Sunday night off shore about thirty miles.