This Too Shall Pass

Aboard Duet we have several sayings, which reflect various situations. These have been developed via extensive experience, much of it learned the hard way. The first is “the enemy of good is better”. This is often applied to anchoring situations, where one of us, usually Nancy, starts looking around once the hook is down. After some study of the other boats and the available spaces in the anchorage, she will say “it looks smoother over there”. While we have sometimes acted on this perception, over the years we have learned that, most often, a “better” situation frequently is not, and getting there means giving up what was, in retrospect, a good, if not better, scenario.

The second saying comes about during adult beverages. Often, but not always, we toast the journey, as a big part of cruising, for us anyway, is the journey, rather than the destination. While we enjoy destinations, beautiful anchorages, interesting towns, etc., we find that much of the challenge for us lies in planning and carrying out the journey to get there.

The third saying was much in use during our recent 950 mile journey from La Paz to Ensenada, a trip known by many cruisers as the “Baja Bash”. This was the toughest journey we have made to date, and, while it only lasted 10 days, including a 4 day rest stop, it will be remembered for some time. As our regular readers may recall, we were moving Duet north to get her out of the hurricane zone. We are not fans of leaving her anywhere near anything resembling a hurricane if we can avoid it. 

One of the key long distance cruising skills, which may not be initially apparent, is patience. The ocean doesn’t care how much you want to get there, nor does the boat, which will proceed at her stately pace, regardless of how much you want to speed up. Once you are out there, often there is nowhere to go but forward. You can go backward, but that requires additional sacrifice, namely you give up all the ground you have so patiently gained. Our description for this scenario is “this too shall pass..”. While sometimes it doesn’t help much, it often fits the situation fairly well.

We left Marina CostaBaja early on Monday May 9, after a rushed journey south from Bahia Conception. We cut our trip north short when Ron noticed what appeared to be a decent weather window opening up about May 10. We confirmed this with OMNI Bob, a weather router much used by Nordhavn owners, among others. Bob said that this was a good window, actually a great one for May, and it would probably be the only decent one in May. If we could make it, we should. We have not worked with Bob before, but wanted the opportunity, as we will need a good router for our South Pacific crossing. That particular journey has now passed from the “we might go” stage to the “we are buying equipment for it, so we had better go” stage. Also, Ron had not evaluated the Baja Bash before and wanted to make sure we had the best information available for what we knew would be a tough trip.

Duet’s position is shown in the lower right corner of the eastern side of the Peninsula.

Ron working on the weather before departure.

Weather information, the more the better.


So there we were, headed north again, after what seemed like a very short winter of cruising in the Sea of Cortez. We enjoyed it very much and will cover our travels there in another blog. In the meantime, we needed to be in Ensenada before the 9th of June, so we could return home for Ron to work. While Ron only works intermittently, the summer is a busy time for him, as many folks want to take vacation and he covers for them. While we really dislike schedules in connection with cruising, we have no choice but to deal with them when Ron has made work commitments.

We went through our usual preparation for an offshore journey, admittedly rather rapidly, given the short timeframe between deciding to go and actually going. During this process, we use a series of checklists to jog our aging memories. These lists are very useful when we are in a rush. We put them in a plastic sleeve, so we can annotate them, without having to keep printing them out. Then, we add any changes to the electronic copy, and print a new one to go in the binder. 

The list below is the main Pre-Departure list, which has tasks for both of us.

The hardest part of getting ready fell to Nancy, she needed offshore meals and there wasn’t much to work with. When we have the opportunity, we like to use Lean Cuisines, or the like, for our offshore meals. They are easy to heat and eat, palatable and, best of all, Nancy doesn’t actually have to cook them.

In this case, however, no such solutions were available. So far in Mexico we haven’t found much prepared food, unlike in the United States. This is actually probably a good thing, but it did make Nancy’s life a little more complex, given she had about two days to get ready for what might be a 7 day passage. The solution? Pasta, pasta and more pasta. Plus plenty of grilled chicken, as chicken we had in abundance. Ron grilled the chicken, Nancy cooked the pasta, we added sauce from a jar, and presto, plenty of prepared meals. Repetitive meals, to be sure, but nutritious, easy to prepare underway and relatively tasty. We also had plenty of ice cream and frozen Snickers bars, so we were good to go.

We checked our way through the rest of the lists with a few hours to spare. We actually did most of this work while traveling south in the Sea of Cortez, as the weather was calm, so it was pretty simple to add the deck jack line, for example, while chugging along. Ron also kept up to speed on the weather, while Nancy worked out the course, primary anchorages, backup anchorages, etc.

The list below is Ron’s engine room checklist.

We even have a sea anchor checklist, as we don’t use it regularly, so we want to be sure we remember how. We are developing one for the drogue. 

During our overall review of the boat, we discovered that our trusty wine storage rack had come apart. While we had very little wine left aboard, having it fly around during our journey north was a non starter, so Ron glued the rack back together to ensure that our inventory remained in one place during the journey. 


We made our first mistake on this trip right out of the box. Rather than anchor Monday night, near the start of the Bash at Cabo San Lucas, and then continue on the next day, we decided to just keep going Monday. The weather was good and we figured that it would give us a jump on the weather window, which was still projected to open sometime Tuesday. Initially this strategy paid off, we had calm conditions all the way from La Paz to Los Frailes, an anchorage on the southern coast of the Baja Peninsula about 50 miles east of Cabo. Darkness fell and we chugged serenely on, secure in the knowledge that all was going well.

Around 2AM we passed Cabo and started around Cabo Falso, which is the southern point of the Baja Peninsula. Capes are, in our experience, uniformly a problem. The winds accelerate, the seas pile up and they create their own weather systems. These systems often bear little, if any, resemblance to the overall weather picture near them. This was to prove quite true of Cabo Falso. Conditions deteriorated rapidly, winds rose into the mid to high 20s, with some gusts to 30, and the seas got larger, closer together and more directly on Duet’s nose. The only plus was there were no other boats out there, so we didn’t have to worry about running into anything.

It took 4 hours to round the Cape. During that time we slowed to about 4.5 knots to ease the motion. Initially all we had was some pounding of the bulbous bow and spray. At about the halfway point, we started getting green water hitting the pilothouse windows directly, rather than just spray. This was a new experience for us, and not a nice one. It was dark, we weren’t expecting it, and it really makes a bang. Both of us jumped every time it happened. We were both up, as there was no sleeping in these conditions. We considered turning around at that point, but, since we couldn’t see a thing and would have these seas on our beam during the turn, we decided that continuing would be safer.

So we slogged on, into what we figure were occasionally 6-8 foot breaking seas. Duet’s bow is 6-7 feet off the water and the pilothouse windows are a good 2-3 feet higher, so for green water to hit those windows straight on, the waves had to break on or slightly above her bow. Duet was fine, the autopilot was steering and the stabilizers were working a bit, but not a lot, as most of the seas were on her nose.

We seemed to be going up and down as much as we were traveling forward, but, over time we could see some infinitesimal progress on the chart. This progress was measured by how much progress we made inside the lines defining a “box” which surrounds the Cape and Cabo San Lucas on our chart. This feature actually indicates a more detailed chart is available in that area, but, to us, that night, it was the box. If we could make it across the box, then things should calm down.

The Box

It took until daylight Tuesday to clear the box. We rounded the Cape, turned north and things calmed down, relatively speaking. When the sun came up, we could see we were bashing north into 4 foot square waves, on a short period. The green water on the windows had stopped, much to our relief. Everything was grey, the sea, the sky, everything. While it wasn’t raining, there was enough spray in the air to make it look mildly foggy. We were exhausted, but neither of us was seasick. Ron’s medications, and a good dose of adrenaline, kept us going.

We had another discussion about turning around, but it seemed too much of a sacrifice, given that we had finally rounded the Cape. The next safe harbor was about 180 miles north, at Bahia Santa Maria, or at Magdalena Bay, which was a little closer. At our average speed of 5-5.5 knots, that would mean another 30 odd hours of running and a mid morning arrival the next day (Wednesday). That seemed doable to us. Email correspondence with Bob showed that the weather window was still open and conditions should be improving as we headed north.

Duet is now at the bottom of the Peninsula.

So off we went. Both of us got some sleep that day, while the other stood watch, despite the pounding of Duet’s bulbous bow. We were exhausted enough to have probably slept through just about anything. As an aside, Nordhavn 50s, 57s, 62s, and some of the larger models have bulbous bows, like a container ship. This appendage has big advantages for speed and fuel efficiency. It does, however, have a downside, namely it is noisy in head seas.

Duet’s bulbous bow is shown below, during fueling at CostaBaja. They prepare a fuel boom in case of spills, the only fuel dock we have seen to do so. It is apparently a requirement in Mexico, as we have since seem them used in Ensenada.

We gather that it isn’t actually the bulb making the noise, it’s the spray it creates when it hits the water. The spray then hits the hull and that makes the noise. Whatever, it’s noisy. When we hit a large head sea straight on, the whole boat shudders. She is built to handle that, so there is nothing to worry about, but it takes some getting used to. The bulbous bow does reduce pitching, which was useful in the conditions we were in. We were also able to change course a bit as we worked our way up the coast, so that the seas weren’t quite so directly on the nose. Video of these conditions is available on our YouTube Channel

The weather did improve, namely the sun came out, which always makes us feel better. The winds increased to mid to high 20s in the afternoon, as Bob and Ron predicted, due to the pressure gradient created by the land heating up. Overall, we had a relatively good 24 hours. Neither of us was very hungry, but we ate anyway, to keep up our strength. We stayed on a half dose of our meds every 4 hours, and both of us did quite well. Ron even took a shower, although Nancy wasn’t quite up to that the first day. The shower enclosure is, well, enclosed, which Nancy finds induces nausea. Fortunately for Ron, she did manage to start taking showers later in the trip. 

As time passed, so did the miles. Patience paid off. We were averaging in the low 5 knots, slowing into the 4s every now and again with the bigger waves, and running at 1200-1400RPM, depending on the conditions. Much faster and the ride would have been untenable. The boat would have been fine, but we would have been bouncing around like peas in a pod. As it was, you always needed a hand for the boat, to avoid falling. You gradually get used to the motion, and, while you can’t exactly predict it, you get better at anticipating it, based on how high she rises to meet a wave or how she feels going down the backside.

Throughout this Duet remained remarkably quiet. Besides the bulbous bow pounding, there were some creaks and groans from the wooden interior when she went down the back of a large wave. Nothing rattled in the cabinets, although on a couple of really big seas we heard a mild tinkling from the wine glasses. Those will either be replaced with plastic ones or have their storage situation changed to avoid any future problems. We must credit Jennifer Hamilton the Nordhavn 52 Dirona for many of our storage solutions, she has some great ideas.

One of the cutlery drawers opened several times, so it will have a ¼ turn retainer latch installed before our next ocean journey. No other drawers opened, nor did anything fall out of a cabinet on anyone’s head when they opened it. This has happened before, but we made some adjustments to our storage for this trip. Nothing cracked or broke, and the main Lugger engine never blinked. Mechanically, she ran perfectly. The stabilizers stayed cool, even when working hard, at low RPMs.

The latches shown below are aluminum airplane 1/4 turn retainer latches. We had these custom made by a aircraft parts fabricator in California. They can also be purchased from PAE, but at twice the price. The PAE ones are sleeker, but we are OK with these. 

This was a good test for the stabilizers. We had upgraded them for exactly this, namely to operate effectively despite low main engine RPM. The upgrade included a system upgrade, from 201 to 252, which increased the size of the hoses and the hydraulic pump. We also added bigger fins, 7.5 foot square, instead of 6 footers. Both these changes seemed to have paid off, as the system ran perfectly, despite the low engine RPMs and some periods of good sized seas.

Unlike many Nordhavns, Duet is a wet exhaust. Saltwater cooling is provided to the Naiads via the main engine raw water cooling pump, rather than a keel cooler or external salt water pump. So, when the main engine slows down, the water flow also slows down. It was nice to see that, despite the main engine slow down, in relatively warm water (75-77 degrees) the system still did well.

After what seemed like an aeon, Wednesday dawned at Bahia Santa Maria. We had been underway for 48 hours and covered about 280 miles. We got another update from Bob, who said that if we felt able to continue we should, as the weather window was staying open at least until Friday. After that, the NW winds were going to really pick up, until the middle of the following week, at least.

Duet is now about 1/3 of the way up the western side of the Peninsula.

So we had a frank discussion about how we felt, and decided to continue. There were places to stop north of Bahia Santa Maria, or, if we were up to it, we could continue another 50 plus hours to Turtle Bay, about 300 miles north of us. As we continued north the weather improved further, although the next night was to be rather bumpy, for reasons that are somewhat unclear. The normal pattern is calm nights, followed by calm mornings and then a build up throughout the afternoon and evening until sometime after sunset, when the land cools down again, and the winds drop. We waited for this pattern to emerge that day, but it never did, so we pounded slowly onward through the night. 

During our trip we saw little other traffic. We were following a rather unique tug and tow, the Shannon Dann, which was transporting the Space Shuttle to Marina del Rey for display in a museum. We actually followed the Shannon Dann on purpose, as we figured that, given the size of their load, they would pick the smoothest path. We are indebted to our friends Larry and Sue, aboard the Nordhavn 46 Beverly S, for telling us about the Shannon Dann’s load, as, while we could see her AIS signal, we never saw her. She later rescued several fisherman, whose boat sank off the Cabo Peninsula a little north of us. We only found out about that when we reached Ensenada and it was in the news.

Other than the Space Shuttle, we did see several sailboats, on and off. We were to meet up with them later in Turtle Bay, but at this point they were just AIS signals or a shadow on the radar. Speaking of the radar, Ron did some complex work with the radars on this trip. The big seas produced a lot of clutter, which meant it was difficult to see targets closer than about a mile, when they were set on their usual 3 (small unit) and 6 (big unit) mile ranges.

So we ran with the larger radar set at 1.5 miles, as it can burn through the clutter better, and set the smaller one at 6 miles. The hardest thing to see is the pangas, which are local open fishing boats 15-25 feet in length. The big radar can pick out their outboard engine at about 2-3 miles, but then loses them completely in the close in clutter. Pangas do carry one small white light at night, but, given the size of the seas, that was often impossible to spot, they were hard to see in these conditions in broad daylight.

A panga in daylight, close to shore.


We also tried traveling various distances from shore, to see if it was calmer closer in or further out. Ron spent some time with one of his Oceanography books, trying to calculate the effect of shallow water on waves in specific wind conditions. This didn’t help much, as there are many factors which affect wave behavior close to land. Bob had also told us the swell would get bigger further out, with further out being defined as 10 miles offshore.

So, after traveling up to 20 miles out, we settled in at about 5-7 miles offshore, mainly to stay out of the way of the pangas and fishing boats. Interesting enough, when we did meet up with a couple of our sailboat companions, both experienced circumnavigators, they said they traveled close to shore (about 1 mile out) in case something happened, especially at night.

We are the opposite; we travel further out in case something happens, as we want the sea room to fix it. James Ellingford, of the Nordhavn 62 Pendana, recently wrote about the loss of the Nordhavn 62, Charlotte B, on the coast just south of Magdalena Bay, which was just about where we were at dawn on Wednesday. This report makes for sobering reading. We are glad that we stuck to our standard operating procedure of staying at least 2 miles offshore, at night in particular, even though it was a bit bumpier than close in. In heavier weather we tend to go even further off, despite it being more uncomfortable, as we think the margin for error decreases as the weather worsens. 

As we came into our fourth dawn on Thursday, about 72 hours after we left La Paz, we began to get into the groove. We both felt better and ate more. While we definitely wanted the trip to be over ASAP, we were more at peace with it than we were 24 or 48 hours into it. By the time we reached Turtle Bay on Friday morning, about 100 hours after we left La Paz, we could have continued on, but the weather window was closing on Saturday. There are anchorages north of Turtle Bay before Ensenada, but none looked substantial enough to ride out the weather Bob and Ron saw coming over the weekend. So we pulled into Turtle Bay, dropped the hook and slept 18 hours of the first 24. Actually we slept a good part of the 4 days we were in Turtle Bay, we didn’t go ashore or kayaking at all.

Turtle Bay is about 2/3 of the way up the Peninsula.

We did have an interesting feathered visitor, who showed up unannounced and remained for about 15 minutes, preening, while sitting on our at anchor flopper stopper pole. He/she seemed unruffled by our picture taking efforts. These fish eagles, as they are called in Mexico, are similar to the ospreys we are so used to seeing on the Chesapeake Bay. In our experience, they are tireless hunters and attentive parents. 

We did attend an evening sailboat get together, we were the only powerboat in the anchorage and were kindly invited by the host sailboat. We enjoyed it, we got there at 5 and left at 9:30, while it was still going strong. As is common with cruising, we met several interesting folks at this gathering, including the inventor of the Watch Commander. This device is an excellent solution to the problem of the night watch falling asleep. Hearing the story of it’s development, first as a tool for their boat, then as a gift for friends (configured as a circuit board installed in a peanut butter jar) and, finally, as a commercial product, was fascinating. We know several Nordhavn owners who have them, and are considering adding one to Duet’s inventory.

During our cruising aboard this Duet, this was the first sailboat event we have been invited to. While cruising aboard the first Duet, a Nordhavn 46, we went to quite a few. We aren’t sure if it’s because the 50 is more of a “power” boat in appearance, or whether west coast sailors are less likely to mingle with power boaters. That, of course, could be the power boaters’ fault as much as the sail boaters. Regardless, our new friends told us that most sailors won’t approach a power boat, but that we should approach the sailboats, thereby crossing the barrier. We’ll give it a try next cruising season. We do find that we have a lot in common with long distance sailors, Duet cruises at a similar speed to the larger sailboats and our destinations are often the same.

During our trip north from La Paz to Turtle Bay we noticed quite a bit of water in the bilge. Actually what we noticed was the bilge pump running a lot. We have a bilge pump counter, which increments by one every time the pump runs. It is reset to zero prior to any offshore, or usually any, journey. Normally it cycles once, or perhaps twice a day, if the A/C is on. On this trip, we were getting counts of 5-6 times a day. While this isn’t overly concerning, it definitely needed looking into.

The counter is on the left below. This system has an extremely loud alarm, which is triggered by high water alarms in the 3 bilge compartments, shown on the right hand panel.

Ron did some careful examination of the bilges while we were underway. His conclusion was that salt water was coming down through the windlass. Ron hadn’t regreased the nipple on the shaft in some time, and water can work it’s way down the shaft and drip into the chain locker when the windlass is getting doused, which it definitely was during this trip. Greasing the nipple that injects a collar of grease along the portion of the shaft, just above where it goes through the deck, solved the problem of water ingress completely, as we found out on our next leg north.

Over the weekend Ron and Bob followed the weather closely, as did everyone else in the anchorage, since we were all headed north. Initially, it appeared as if the following week would be a bust, and we would spend it in Turtle Bay. While Turtle Bay is a great harbor of refuge, it is not somewhere we would voluntarily spend time. It is a large industrial town, so it is noisy and there is a lot of dust blowing off the surrounding hills. Further, while we are sure the inhabitants are mostly friendly, we did hear of one attempted pilfering while we were there. A local kayaked out after dark, boarded one of our companion sailboats and was discovered stealing fishing lures off the deck. Words were exchanged, and the thief departed empty handed. Duet was anchored some way out in the bay, and we didn’t really want to leave her alone after hearing that story.

So the idea of spending another week there didn’t really float our boat, so to speak, but this too shall pass. However, as is often the case in cruising, this plan changed about 24 hours later, and the sailing fleet, plus Duet buoyed by Bob’s (and Ron’s) assessment of the weather, pulled out at 5AM Tuesday May 17th, northbound for Ensenada. 

We had planned this leg using our stats generated on the first leg, namely an average speed of 5.6 knots. It is about 300 miles to Ensenada from Turtle Bay, so that gave us a trip time of about 54 hours. We always try to arrive in daylight, preferably early in the day, so we can deal with any issues that may arise. Hence our 5AM departure, which gave us an arrival time in Ensenada of about 3PM on Thursday.

That was later than we might like, but to make it earlier meant getting up earlier and we wanted a good night’s sleep before we started off. A 5AM departure requires waking at 4AM, so we figured that was early enough. It’s been some time since we’ve done a dark departure, but Turtle Bay is big and relatively deep, with few anchored boats, most of whom were leaving either with or before us, so it all worked out fine. 

Nancy was a little jumpy, as she has to keep Duet out of everyone’s way while Ron recovers the anchor and secures it for offshore running. This can take some time, even assuming it comes up clean and stows relatively quickly. Fortunately, it was calm, so she was easily able to keep Duet in one place initially, and then start slowly out of the bay once the hook was on the roller, to ensure she was clear of other departing boats. It was relatively light, even at 5AM, as there are a lot of large shore lights in Turtle Bay. She also has the chart plotter, which was relatively accurate in this Bay and, of course, the radar, although we don’t like to run that when Ron is working on the foredeck, to avoid him getting too many rays.

Ron is shown below, getting us set up for the transit between Cedros Island and the mainland. We decided on this course, rather than going around Cedros, to buy us a little comfort in it’s lee. About half our sailboat companions went outside, to get more wind, the other half opted for the inside route. We did hit a few bumps when we came out of the lee at the top of the island, but, overall, this effort seemed worth it.

On the map below you can see the same channel that you can see on the radar in the photo above. We always confirm our position using radar, it doesn’t get thrown off by out of date information. 

This leg was to be more comfortable than the last. While we still had head seas, and higher winds in the afternoon, it was calmer for longer periods. So we traveled faster, actually too fast, averaging just over 7 knots. Given this, we arrived at the last reasonable anchorage, about 65 miles south of Ensenada, around 2PM Wednesday afternoon. We decided to stop, get a good night’s sleep and move on to Ensenada very early the next morning. Unfortunately, this anchorage was so rolly, due to the angle of the swell, that we couldn’t stay, so on we went. 

Timing on this kind of trip is trickier than it might seem. We knew we were going too fast early on, but slowing down might mean that we then went too slowly, if we had to struggle with head seas or current later. So we tend to keep up our speed and then deal with the end result once we get close to our destination, rather than lose the window to get there at all by slowing down too soon in the trip.

Arriving in Ensenada in the light meant slowing down, way down. We reduced Duet to 1025RPM (idle is 750RPM and normal cruise is around 1500RPM), which was still delivering about 4.5 knots in these calmer conditions. This gave us an arrival time of between 4 and 5AM Thursday morning. So we would need to do some station keeping until the sun came up, but at least it would only be for a couple of hours, not most of the night. On we chugged, slowly, very slowly, but at least it was almost calm all night, with a long period swell.

As projected, we arrived at the entrance to the bay where Ensenada is located at around 4AM. Nancy was on watch. She laid out a reciprocal course, as discussed with Ron at the 1AM watch change, and Duet chugged up and down. One of our sailboat companions went on into Ensenada, the other chugged up and down about ½ mile east of us.

Ron came back on watch around 5:30AM, and continued chugging up and down until around 7AM when the sun rose. We were further delayed by the arrival of a cruise ship, which has right of way in Ensenada harbor, so we didn’t start our approach until around 8AM. Nancy woke up as we started into the bay, so she could get her lines and fenders sorted out. We arrived at Cruiseport Marina without incident, after checking in with the Harbor Master via VHF. Since we were coming from within Mexico, we were granted permission to proceed without needing to check in with him further. 

We had a slip assignment already, but it turned out to be the narrowest slip we’ve yet dealt with in this boat. The marina was crowded, so there wasn’t really anywhere else to go, nor had the marina staff arrived, so we gave it our best try. We were next to a Nordhavn 55, which, as our readers may know, are pretty wide boats. There was room to fit one fender between the boats and one fender between us and the dock. Not a long term solution, but good for a day or two. We spent the day exploring a bit, had a nice dinner aboard and slept late the next day. 

After some consultation with marina management, we moved into a larger slip, next to another 50, Worknot. Her owner Gale was aboard, although we didn’t get to meet his wife Mary until a week or so later, when she came down from their home in Las Vegas. Gale and Ron spent several enjoyable hours touring each other’s engine rooms and we learned a lot. Gale is a retired diesel guy and very knowledgable. He also gave us the lay of the land in Ensenada, with the best places to eat, shop, etc. Since he had a car, he even gave us a lift to the nearest Walmart, to stock up a bit for our two week stay.

Duet (right) and Worknot (left) waiting for their next adventure.


Duet and Worknot, are shown below, from the stern. Duet is Hull #15, and Worknot is Hull#17, of the 50 series. They were built within 12 months of one another, but they have a number of different features. There were a lot of options on the 50s, including a flybridge (Duet) or no flybridge (Worknot), walk around decks (Worknot) or a widebody (Duet), a wet exhaust (Duet) or a dry stack (Worknot) and a crane to handle the dinghy (Duet) or a mast and boom system (Worknot). There are other changes in layout and equipment as well, which are not so visible from the outside.


There are some very tenacious barnacles in Ensenada. There are also some pretty tenacious (and large) sea lions. Gale ran a very large bull off his finger pier with a hose and some seriously realistic growling. Ron and Nancy had tried to chase it away previously, but retreated when confronted with sharp teeth in a cavernous maw, accompanied by very loud barking. Since it’s encounter with Gale, this particular bull has come up on other finger piers, but not on Gale’s. We can only assume he learned this management skill somewhere along the way during his professional career.

There are two other Nordhavns on this dock, both stunning 62s. Funnily enough, one is a boat that we met many years ago in the Chesapeake Bay. We later met her owners again, aboard a 46 they had purchased after selling the 62. In that case they were tied up next to us in Anacortes, right after we bought Duet. Their 62 is here with her new owner, the retired head of Baja Naval Boatyard. He is lavishing care on her and plans a long cruise in the northern end of the Sea of Cortez later this summer. We have also seen the other 62 before, on the east coast, but we believe she is with a new owners now.

While Duet will be spending the summer at Cruiseport, we headed home in early June. We will be back to check on her a couple of times over the summer. We shall keep an eye on Worknot while we are there, and Gale and Mary will keep an eye on Duet when they visit. Our dockage situations don’t get much better than this, having an experienced Nordhavn owner such as Gale literally feet away. We have also retained a local guy to wash her every month and a diver to clean the bottom.

We wish our readers an enjoyable summer.















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