This article was previously written by Rachel Messerschmidt for and published by Vancouver Family Magazine in December 2020.
Nearly five whole years into our crazy plan to sell our house and almost all of our belongings, and buy and move onto a sailboat with our kids, we were finally ready to become true Pacific Northwest sailing nomads. It had taken everything we had, but there we were, looking forward into the future, ready to leave our home slip in our wake and cruise down the mighty Columbia River toward Astoria.
We spent that last morning in our Portland slip running last minute errands, washing the boat, and visiting with friends and loved ones on the dock as they gathered to see us off. Because you can’t plan too far in advance as a sailor, due to a critical need for patience and careful weather planning, we didn’t yet know exactly what our full itinerary would look like. But we did know that sometime in the coming weeks we would be casting off our docklines for the very last time on the Columbia River, aiming the boat west, and crossing the treacherous Columbia River Bar to head north up the rugged Washington coastline.
But first we had to get the boat to Astoria, a journey of 90 miles by river. It was, by far, the longest trip we’d ever taken aboard our boat, and we were doing it all on our own. It was scary and exciting all at the same time. A true adventure for the kiddos: the beginning of the grand adventure that we’d spent years preparing for.
We’d decided to take a whole week just getting the boat to Astoria. We wanted to really enjoy the trip down the river, relax a bit with the kids and have some fun. The months leading up to our departure were so jampacked with project after project that we’d had a really hard time keeping the fun in the lifestyle. We were all craving a bit of a break, adults just as much as the kids.
So on Saturday May 4, 2019 just after noon and mostly on schedule, we hugged our family and friends one last time, untied the boat, and headed out of the marina.
Our very first obstacle was getting under the I-5 bridge. We’d passed under only a couple times previously and, with the level that the river was currently at, we didn’t know when we left if we were going to need to call to have the bridge lifted for us or not. Our mast is roughly 62-feet high off of the water. We decided that if we called the bridge tender and they said it was at least 65-feet clearance, that we would pass under the high span without asking for a bridge lift.
Of course, they answered that it was exactly 65 feet. Really? Like, it couldn’t have been just a few feet higher to give us a bit of breathing room? We gritted our teeth and ducked carefully under the high span. We made it without issue but, boy, were we holding our breath. A pit in my stomach, I kept doubting our calculations and fearing we would leave on our adventure and hit the bridge less than 30 minutes after our grand departure!
Safely on the other side, we still had to get through the opening railroad bridge and we planned to hover near the iconic Grant Street Pier where Brenden’s parents had rushed to wave goodbye and get pictures. But, just as we started to approach the pier, the railroad bridge started opening without our even requesting it. So much for that final photo op! With a quick wave on the way by, we motored on through the bridge and we were off!
Three hours later, we tied up for the weekend at Sand Island across from St. Helens, Oregon. We spent two nights at Sand Island, exploring the island with the kids and enjoying a couple days without work or the boat demanding projects be done. Monday came and we felt like true digital nomads as we worked our jobs from the boat at a dock we’d never been to before. That afternoon we moved over to the other side of the river and stayed two nights at the St. Helens public dock. We were able to get our first showers-away-from-home there at the city’s waterfront public restrooms and on Wednesday after work we made the short hour and a half jump to the Port of Kalama public dock.
My brother and his family, along with my parents, who all live in Woodland, came to visit us there and were eager to hear about our first few days away from the marina. On Thursday, we enjoyed dinner with Brenden’s parents at McMenamin’s Kalama Harbor Lodge and then on Friday at noon we cruised out from Kalama on the longest day-hop all the way down to Cathlamet.
We spent only one night in Cathlamet but were lucky to spend it with one of Brenden’s friends who lives there. She and her husband met us at the marina and we ate dinner at the small town brewery right there near the waterfront. The pizza and drinks were fabulous and we were treated like real world travelers. And finally, on Saturday morning, a week after leaving our slip in Portland, we left Cathlamet early and arrived at our Astoria destination shortly after noon.
Those first little day trips felt big. Moving the boat ten miles was a big deal for us back then. We were so happy and proud to have made it to Astoria. Our first week of nomad working was behind us and it was time to settle in for the week of final preparations in Astoria. We had our eye on a developing weather window that looked promising for our offshore passage leaving on the morning of May 19. We wouldn’t be bringing the kids with us for that leg. Instead, we were bringing on extra crew and a professional captain. We wanted to do everything we could to stack the deck in our favor for a safe crossing of the Columbia River bar and hopefully uneventful passage up the wild Washington coast toward our next destination of The Puget Sound.
Rachel Messerschmidt and her family are Clark County natives currently living and cruising full time aboard their sailboat, Mosaic, in the Pacific Northwest. Rachel blogs about her life and journey at www.mosaicvoyage.com and shares her family’s adventures in a monthly column in Vancouver Family Magazine.
