Westport

Or, in my case, Restport...

Yesterday we got into Westport, most of the way down the Washington coast, in the early afternoon. This was after an overnight 26.5-hour, 121-mile run out around the NW tip of the continental US. All under diesel power.

We have not sailed since Port Townsend Bay. It has not been by choice. It’s because we have only three months to get to Hawaii and back. There is wind in our near future. It appears. Later today we’ll be discussing the conditions and timing for our next leg.

Because I’m not yet used to overnight passages, and am lousy at naps, I had some difficulty getting enough sleep, especially given the engine noise. I’m sure I’ll get better at it, but after an early dinner I was toast. I was in bed by 5:30 and slept for an uninterrupted 11.5 hours. Not even a piss call, which surprised me because I’ve been staying hydrated and because that hasn’t happened more than twice since I was in my 50’s. I woke up feeling so rested and grateful. And then I slept another hour because I fucking could. This morning’s guitar practice felt amazing: I was seeing the fretboard—not just the notes but the harmonies, the structures—with more than usual clarity. It felt so good.

Westport is a small commercial fishing town, not conventionally attractive or touristy. The marina people are nice, and we had outstanding fish and chips a couple of blocks away: crisp breading, not greasy, very fresh. Good beer from Astoria, about 40 miles south.

Here’s our pretty boat, one of only two sailboats in the entire marina that I can see. In the pic, the marina looks mostly empty. It is not. They just put us here to make things easy for us and for their regular professional clientele.

More soon.

Miss you,

David