It was wet.
It started out as a calm gray morn, warm, windless and humid, but not raining. We were surprised we slept until 9 am; even though we’ve been some seriously whipped puppies with all the trip’s preparation — including collecting and leaving all our “worldly” possessions in a Subie with 232,000 miles and the cab of a ’95 Ford Ranger. We got ship-shape and showered, and headed off to the strains of the Navy’s independence day band at 11 am. We were figuring we’d motor the 35 miles to Pt. Townsend, arriving at 7 pm.
Did I mention it was wet? Seems green (sea) water breaking over the cabin to our dodger-less (unprotected) cockpit (open area, where we steer the boat from) had a magnetic attraction to my face, at my time at the helm (steering). I looked like drowned rat, but a very happy one, nonetheless.
Despite my cooking prowess (really – there is legitimate justification for me to call myself “Galley Wench”), our first meal underway was PBJ sammies. They were good.
To celebrate Wayne’s birthday and the start of our journey, we made a rare splurge, and indulged in our favorite Port Townsend restaurant, Fountain Café. Our clam and mussel appetizer was delish. I happily devoured my main of “NW gumbo.” Wayne’s crab cake was excellent, and ultimately our waitress triumphed over the technical difficulties with his steak. She was a champ.
We ended the day well; with a stunning sunset. A good start.