The key to enjoying our navigation is to go with the wind. We have managed to sail all this time and only motor to go into the harbors. We were going to head out from Poet’s Cove to cross the Strait of Georgia but the wind took us to one of the islands of the Gulf Islands Archipelago. As members of the Seattle Yacht Club we use outstations (basically private marinas, some with cabins and lots of land) . In SaltSpring the club leases enough docks for the members to use them. This year, we are sailing with a Starlink antenna to be able to communicate, watch movies or even do Elizabeth’s Spanish homework!

We cast off heading to Poet’s Cove to meet our friends who live in Victoria. We met them up in Desolation Sound last year. They worked on their wooden boat for seven years and now finally, they can get to enjoy it. Fun couple Debbie and Steve!

Port Townsend is a living museum of wooden boats, old boats and boats in general. It was meant to be the most important place in the Sound and West Coast until the railroads reached Seattle. Port Townsend went through hard times when the depression hit in the late 1800’. Now, it’s a living museum of what it could have been and has been converted into a tourist destination and a worldwide reference for its shipyards and expertise professional boat yards. From a bar deck, one can enjoy the sunset looking out to wooden boats sailing along the bay.

We made it fast crossing the Strait of Juan de Fuca to Victoria where we visited our friends from Cuba. I met Teresita while teaching and doing an assignment in La Habana back in 2003. Reinel, her husband, was back then in Italy and it wasn’t until 2011 that they reunited to start a life in Victoria where he had been hired by the Federal Goverment as a Physics Researcher. Teresita is a great graphic designer and their two Canadian daughters are just adorable. Long journey for them!

In the first picture, Elizabeth enjoys luxury and pampering at the Empress Hotel…

Williwaw sailed like a charm enjoying 18 Kn/20 Kn at Admiralty Inlet. We had the wind at our nose so we had to zig zag just two tacks. Beautiful day. Port Ludlow is a sweet bay peaceful and picturesque.

What a great dinner Bob Murphy had ready for us as we arrived. Claire came to greet us with their good friend Ted who is an anthropologist. I dedicate the pictures I took in Kingston to him. We saw the house they’re building with a lot of enthusiasm. The next day, they were planning to go to Port Townsend where we were heading. Happy Claire didn’t come on the boat with us N, it was quite fun but a bit rough for a first timer on a sailboat cruising Admiralty Inlet. We actually stopped at Port Ludlow which was the first destination back in 2020.

Seattle from Bainbridge Island is only 5 nm away. Once you cast off your lines, you are on a sailing vessel (S/V)in the water. We use AIS (Automatic Identification System) so other boats can see our navigation and we can see them. Not only that, one can set up the system’s alarms. Williwaw home’s port is Elliot Bay Marina in Seattle. Mt Rainier when it’s visible dominates the view from the bay as Downtown glows specially in the evenings. We crossed to Winslow at a beam reach where Connor, Natalie and Max were waiting for us to enjoy dinner together. On our way to Eagle Harbor, Tacoma, a ferry that was coming from Seattle had the courtesy of hailing us over the VHF to tell us she was intending to pass on the west side of the channel. We decided to leave Seattle towards The Broughton’s with no rush stopping on our way to see friends and family.

One wonders why sail to Canada if a plane can take you in a fraction of the time you invest getting there. I guess it’s all about the poetry involved in the journey. Sailing involves to be in the “here and now” every step of the way but at the same time one feels in a timeless dimension where new conditions lead you to a kind of reality that can only be shared in the wind.

Iberia

We’d like to share the intimate, often hidden Spain we are about to know, where the congeniality of living souls and the dark weight of history conspire to create a wild, contradictory, passionately beautiful land, the mystery called Iberia. Let’s get moving.

Above this lines we can enjoy a Sorolla painting we found in Madrid. Sorolla loved to depict the shores of the East coast back at a time when the fishermen needed their animals to pull the boats to shore.

There is a traditional print hung on the column to the left of Elizabeth where a peasant from Fraga, my dad’s hometown, is carrying a basin full of water. But the protagonists of the picture are Elizabeth, Finin and Conchita. Finin and Conchita are my dad’s sisters who are 95 and 97 years old. They are living together their “over time” in their life’s as best as they can at Finin’s apartment. Finin bought the yellow tablecloth in Russia back in the days when she loved traveling in her vacation off duty from her work as a secretary at the regional government in Zaragoza.

Both know Elizabeth as Isabela, and they find Elizabeth very accomplished and both admire her various skills to the level of believing she could be playing at the Davis Cup tournament.

They have long conversations regardless of Elizabeth’s understanding of the language. Finin fell in love with the choice of jewelry of Elizabeth that evening.

We took the elevator but when my sisters and myself were kids, every Saturday we’d have lunch at Finin’s and my Grandma’s. My Grandmother Maria was a gifted cook. There were not enough trays to feed her hungry grandchildren. We could hardly walk back home what our full bellies. In our pockets, we would have our allowance that she would give us in a secret ritual hiding the coins to not be seen by the other siblings. We all got the same but she like the privacy kept in this transaction.

My mom and Nuria have moved to live with my sister Lola. Both are happily ever after in a familiar space where we grew up and many of the neighbors in the 11 floors building are still there.

Lola cooked the turkey and Gemma made the sauces. Nuria took care of a salad. We sat to have dinner at 9pm, by the way. Dinners in Spain are light when you stay at home unless there is a celebration. They treated us with a Thanksgiving dinner to recreate the US festivity.

Samia who lives 4 floors above my aunts, takes good care of them. She treated us with a plate of cookies baked Moroccan style. Tánger is her hometown and she and her family migrated to Spain in the late 90′. They are warm and lovely. Lola and my mom made the delicious chocolate truffles.