AUGUST CRUISE PART 1

We had planned a vacation Jodi’s brother and niece, but while we had the dates, we hadn’t worked out an itinerary.  Their arrival coincided (nearly to the minute) of completing the move onto the boat.  For the last few days we had boxes in the cockpit as we figured out the storage, but the boat was once again a boat with everything having a home. 

We decided this would be a great opportunity to explore our new neighborhood.   In the immediate vicinity of Seattle there are several destinations close by, so with no real plans, we set out to explore them.

Our first stop Saturday night was the yacht club outstation at Port Madison.   Always a nice property, it’s been improved over the years and makes for a nice visit.  We met a long time sailor who finally decided to move over to powerboating, but he remarked that his favorite cruising sailboat was the maple leaf 42.  ‘What a great boat’ he said.  We agree!

We also had an interesting encounter with a family on a nearby boat.  It was a new sport fisherman and after dinner, their big screen came on along with pulsing music that shook the hull.  The power of their sound system was impressive, but it had no place in a quiet harbor.   It was intrusive, but because it was coming from inside, it was just muted enough not to warrant a direct request to tone it down.   We assumed there were ill supervised kids at play.  After about 5 minutes, a couple of 12 year old boys came down the dock, climbed on the boat, opened the door (which really let the volume out!) and we heard the boys say ‘turn it down it’s way too loud’.   The music volume dropped and these two kids apologized to us for their ‘crazy parents’.

We later met these two kids along with their sister up at the playground.  What great kids!   They were pretty athletic, but when Kelli started some of her gymnastic routines on the bars at the play ground, these kids were impressed and the 12 year old boy said ‘how do you do that’?  He tried to emulate some of the moves and chuckled to himself as he flailed away on the bars failing miserably.

We left Port Madison the following morning.  Ken had purchased Mariner tickets so we motored across the sound to the Bell Street Harbor Marina, effectively in downtown Seattle.   Jodi and Kelli took a ‘pedicab’ to the stadium while Ken and I hoofed the 20 something blocks to Safeco Field. 

It was a good game and the mariners won.   We were playing the Twins and I sat next to a Grandma from Minnesota rooting for her beloved Twins.  I’m sure that our conversation bore little resemblance to, say, a Yankee / Detroit fan smack talk session.  I’d comment that the Twins look pretty good.  She would say ‘oh it’s been a tough year, Seattle is so much better’.   Two reserved Lutherans rooting for their teams, but being very polite, saying only positive things about the other team.

After the game we ambled back to the boat and took a dinghy ride along the waterfront.  I noticed a black hulled sleek sailboat under full sail and thought I recognized the boat.  Sure enough, it was ‘Couragous’, our old camp boat owned by the Helsell family.  We got close and I yelled, “Nor’wester, ’68” and got a thumbs up from the skipper.

 

I talked to him later in the harbor and he had bought the boat from the Helsell’s some 20 years ago.   The boat looked great and brought back good memories of ‘Norm and Charley’, the skipper and mate who taught us much about sailing.

A little later in the evening a fellow ambled over and was admiring “Couragous” and we got chatting.  He offhandedly mentioned he just got done rowing down from Juneau, Alaska.  His name was Dick and he just completed a near 1500 mile rowing journey.  He showed me his boat and we talked about many of the places in the inside passage.  Butedale, Namu, and many other places that brought back memories of past trips up North.   He had built a removable platform in the boat and modified a Northface tent for sleeping at night.  During the day the tent was removed, and the platform stowed.  Dick was quite a fellow and had long dreamed of this trip.  He was enthused to be in Seattle, soaking up the experience. 

 

Monday morning dawned and Ken and I grabbed our laptops, went to our respective hotspots, and pounded out some work.  Later we went to the Market and scored some nice steaks.  By early afternoon we were ready to go and set a course to Blake Island, a state park only a few miles from Downtown Seattle.  Leaving Seattle, the fireboat put on quite a show.

 

 

 

I don’t have a complete history of the island, but it was owned by a fellow named ‘Trimble’ early in the 1900’s, purchased so his wife could pursue her gardening habit.  Somehow it became a state park and now has a small marina and is home to the ‘Tillicum Village’ dinner and native American dance experience.

The dock was full, but we moored between two pilings and were quite secure for the evening.  We all took a long hike on the island (we weren’t really lost, but without a map we probably meandered a bit).
Blake island is a real gem and offers much of the same experience as Sucia, albeit with a bit more density and sound from passing boats and overhead planes.  It’s not quite ‘the islands’ but is close. We hiked for a couple of hours and saw very few people.

We witnessed ‘one of those moments’ while at Blake.  A Cal 29 came around the breakwater with a good turn of speed.  A women with short cropped hair was at the helm and a fellow was on the bow trying to get the lines ready.  I thought they were going fairly fast and then the gal aimed the boat at the dock.  We all sat up as the poor fellow on the bow tried to simultaneously get the fenders and the lines ready, but ultimately failing at both as the boat rammed the dock and then careened into a powerboat.  We later learned the gal was a full lieutenant in the navy.  They just bought the boat 8 hours earlier.

The steaks and accompanying wine were magnificent and we turned in for the evening following a fine sunset.

Tuesday morning we hiked a bit more then departed and headed for the locks.  I had not locked through in years.  The last time was with Dad as we brought the boat in for one of the old opening day weekends.   With much anticipation and instruction we entered the locks and made secure within the locks as the water swirled and we rose to the level of Lake Washington.  Jodi commented ‘that’s all there is to it’?  She was prepared for a much more arduous experience but if all parties are prepared (and she was), it’s pretty simple.

We opened the bridges and with only 10 minutes to spare before rush hour the Fremont Bridge opened for us and we entered Lake Union.  Our destination was a little known dock open for reciprocal moorage right next to the old ‘Latitude 47’ (Now Rock Salt Restaurant) building.

A short walk later we found “Serious Pie”, a Tom Douglas restaurant focused on Pizza.  Perfect evening.

Wednesday morning we split up.  Jodi, Ken and Kelli took a cab to the waterfront to the ‘great wheel’ and Rex and I walked the 1.9 miles to the same place.  I took Rex through Pike Place Market and his nose was working overtime.  At one point we walked by a bakery and his entire body shifted course behind that large nose trying desperately to get into the bakery.

When I arrived the other 3 were on the wheel, taking in the views on the ride.

 

 

We went back to the Market for lunch then we all walked back to the boat.

While we had planned to stay in the lake for a couple of days, we thought about the balance of the week and on the spur of the moment decided to exit the lake and get into saltwater to springboard to another destination Thursday morning. 

It’s been a long time since we opened bridges and locked through, but the deck hands were finding their rhythm.  Kelli was becoming adept at tying the fenders and preparing the lines.

Wednesday evening found us back at Port Madison. Being midweek, there was only one other boat at the docks.

Ken and I had a ‘National Geographic’ moment Thursday morning.  There were 6 seals on a finger pier near the boat.  One was snorting and woke me up.  Ken then joined me in the cockpit and we watched the seals.  A family of otters were just down the dock scampering around and on the other side a very patient great blue heron eyed the small fish beneath the dock.  The sound of garbage collection and a car alarm muted the experience.

  

THE BLUES

Once a year the Blue Angels come to Seattle.  We were able to get out onto the I-90 bridge for a great view.   Hot day -- Seattle hit 93 degrees, first time in 2 years.

Every time I think of Seafair I think of Dad's story about being there in 1955 watching Tex Johnson doing an unannounced barrel roll in the then very new Boeing 707.

TELEGRAPH HARBOR

The San Juan Island Yacht club was sponsoring a “Telegraph Harbor Cruise” and Mom had asked if Jodi and I wanted to take her on the Cruise.    It was a Hawaiian themed cruise and sounded like fun.  Jodi was charged with the food and spend time preparing for the event.

Telegraph Harbor is on Thetis Island, some 45 nautical miles from Friday Harbor.  Traveling that distance takes time in a 7 knot boat.  Jodi and I positioned the boat at Roche for the departure.  Thursday evening we grabbed a ‘to go’ dinner at the Mexican Restaurant then had a nice sunset cruise up to Roche.   Sunset from the water is always nice.  We docked for the evening at Henry Island, gave Rex a bit of a workout in the new dog run, then called it a night.

The next morning Devin drove Mom to Roche and we motored out of Roche at about 8:45 in the morning under sunny skies.   We had two choices on routes.  The shorter, more protected route through Johns Pass or slightly longer, but much more exposed route around Stuart Island.   I chose the longer route over the objections of the crew (I am the skipper!).  My reasoning was that a fairly strong Flood was running and our speed would more than compensate for the added length, make the duration of the trip to Bedwell customs much shorter.   I was right.  And wrong.   We did top over 8 knots and the trip was a bit shorter than had we gone the inside route, but there was quite a lump and Mom’s breakfast was disrupted by the motion of the boat.   Rex and Kuper would have preferred the quieter route as well.

In any case, we got to Bedwell fairly quickly and checked through Customs without incident. 

As we were leaving Bedwell, channel 16 on the VHF radio sprang to life with a panicky, high pitched voice calling for the Coast Guard.   He too was in the lump where we had just been, but his steering had given out and he was steering just with his engines.  He was talking very fast and had the microphone too close to his mouth.   The panic and emotion in his voice provided the perception that he was battling for his very life.   Death could be imminent and we listened intently to the exchange between the Coast Guard and the troubled boater. 

As events unfolded, it was apparent that death was not imminent, the fellow was well away from any threat, but was clearly distraught at having to resort to a secondary mode of steering his boat.  At about that time, a very professional voice came over channel 16 and asked the Coast Guard to move up to channel 83 alpha.   As background, if there is an immediate, life threatening event, all communication takes place on channel 16 and the coordination of coast guard, fellow boaters and the distressed boaters can be riveting.  If it’s not life threatening, but requires immediate action, most of the communication moves off 16 and goes up to 22 alpha.  If it’s mundane, like a radio check, it moves up to 83 alpha.  So this very professional voice who had asked the Coast Guard to switch to 83 alpha reported that he was a long side the distressed boater and provided very specific latitude / longitude coordinates. He also said the boater was moving along at 4.6 knots (which for us would be a decent speed in a sea with an adverse current).   The professional voice went on to say that given the fellows headway, distance from land, etc, it appeared that there was no life threatening event taking place.  At which point the panicky, high pitched voice chimed in, clearly agitated “well it may not be life threatening, but it isn’t very much fun!”. 

We got quite a chuckle out of the poor fellows perception of his state of affairs.  He requested, and got, a tow from a commercial outfit.  A tow he did not need and a cooler head could have managed the boat to safety with no outside assistance.   Steering a twin engine boat with the engines is awkward, but it can be done.   Perhaps notifying the coast guard of the event would be in order just in case one engine failed would have been prudent, but beyond that, I don’t think I would have put anyone at risk in any sort of ‘rescue’ or tow.

In any case, we were doing fine with the genoa flying to give us some speed and to dampen the effect of the wave action.  For a while we even sailed, doing 6 knots without the engine.

We got to Telegraph Harbor around 2:30, were greeted at the dock with Leis, then went for a nice walk.  Both Kuper  and Rex wore their leis. 

Dinner was with the yacht club group and Jodi’s kabobs were a hit.  I liked the spam rice as well!

We took a nice dinghy ride in the cut between Thetis and Kuper Island and found a lovely wooden sailboat at sunset.

In the morning Ellen came over with her ‘Gammel Dansk’, a Danish bitter.  It’s unbelievably hyggelig.  Meaning it’s pretty good and spreads good feelings (or something like that).

We had scheduled to go over to Chamainus on Saturday, but as events unfolded there just wasn’t enough time to do everything.  So we took a good long walk over to the other marina and went for a nice paddle in the Kayak. 

 Rex even joined us for that one.

Dinner was with the yacht club group with flags flying in the pavilion.

Sunday dawned early.  Owing to time, distance and tide (3 formidable foes), we had to leave the dock at 6:30 am.  Jodi walked the dogs, I prepared the boat and we were off on a beautiful morning.  We saw some good looking boats on the way out.

Largely uneventful trip back.  Long, but pleasant.  Cleaning the boat was brutal as ever, right in the hot part of the day.  Part of the drill, but a fun few days in the islands.

JULY 5TH THROUGH 8TH

July 5.  We awoke early to get out to the house by 8.  Maren had the good thought that while we were all on the island it may be a good time to move Dad’s ashes to the urn that Clayton had made.  I didn’t take any pictures of the event, but Maren had found an urn that had a nautical theme and Clayton executed it to perfection with Hawaiian hardwoods.  It’s a thing of beauty and Dad would be pleased with the result.

We ended up taking the family on a short day cruise from Friday Harbor around Jones island and back to the house.  It was a beautiful day – a good one for an ad hoc cruise.  After we dropped them off, we went over to Jones and anchored.

Jones Island is a state park and was the destination of my first cruise.  I think I was 13 and a kid named Kurt Moncini and I took the speedboat over to Jones and camped.  The island seemed a lot bigger then.  Jodi and I hiked around it in pretty short order.  It’s a good hike, perhaps around a mile and a third or so.  The first part of the hike is through the center of the island, then we took a loop around the western side, facing the house on the opposing San Juan shore about 3 miles away. 

We even found some cactus on the island!

After stretching our legs a bit we hauled the anchor up and motored over to Deer Harbor.  We anchored not too far from the Adventuress.

Evening brought another slow bullfrog ride around the marinas.   There were several interesting boats – and skippers of boats.

We did see a Blanchard 33, just like the one Dad bought in the early 60’s.  This one had been Norm Blanchards own boat, but I don’t know who owns it now.

July 6^th.  We got off to a late start. The original plan was to hike up Mount Constitution, but the combinations of a late start, very poor cell service and taxi rates that can only be described as highway robbery changed the plan to a much more modest hike up to ships point.  It turned out to be the perfect choice.

The trailhead is about 3 miles from Deer Harbor and climbs to just under 1000 feet. The view is very, very nice.  On the way up you can see over to San Juan, south to the Olympics and near the top there’s a nice view of the valley between Turtleback and Mount Constitution. 

The only downside is walking on the road back to Deer Harbor,  The road is really too narrow to safely walk with the cars buzzing by.  Traffic was light, but all it takes is one….

After getting on the boat we toured West Sound and saw Camp Four Winds and Westward Ho!

We were going to Hunter Bay, but Bruce called and noted that a cold wind was still coming off the straits.  We wanted warmth and sun, so we jointly decided to anchor in Blind Bay, off Shaw Island.

We did try something new in Blind Bay.  We launched the bullfrog, then launched the double kayak.  With the Kayak tied next to the bullfrog, Rex jumped from the Cambria to the bullfrog, then with some coaxing, gingerly stepped into the kayak with Jodi and I.  We didn’t take any pictures of that first voyage, but we did paddle around the boat with Rex sitting in the middle.

Around 8:30 or so Bruce and Carol brought ‘Shearwater’ along side  and rafted.  Tom and Dana were aboard for the weekend, so we ducked into Shearwaters salon for a nice evening chat.

July 7^th. 

Anchoring in Blind Bay is both good and bad.  The good part is it’s a large anchorage and there’s always space.  It’s close to the Shaw Island ferry dock and the Orcas dock isn’t that far away.  The bad part is boats going through the channel kick up wakes.  The quiet evening gave way to occasional rollers early in the morning as early boaters passed by.  Beyond 6am, sleep was intermittent.

Craig and Miriam stopped by in a 15’ Bullfrog.  Their boat was moored in West Sound and they came by for a morning visit.  We all went to the Shaw Island dock where Craig renewed some old acquaintances with the general store owner and the rest of us took a bit of a walk down one of Shaws drowsy country roads.  Quirky place this Shaw Island.

Bruce wanted to race, so we rigged the boats for sailing and set out from Blind Channel under sail.  Shearwater is the faster boat.  Try as we might, we simply could not catch her (to add insult, she was towing a light dingy).  We had the chance to re-discover just how much work short tacking in a channel is. 

We then motored to Fishermans bay for an evening pot luck in Cambria’s cockpit.  Later, ‘the girls’ wanted to go dancing so we went to the Islander with their live (but only so so) band.

July 8^th.  What a morning!  Quiet, calm, beautiful.  An old ferry just came in and anchored.  It would make a great liveaboard or B and B. 

Well, that's the cruise.  Short and sweet, but fun.  We burned less than 10 gallons of diesel and perhaps 3 gallons of gas.  Anchored out the whole time, got some exercise and renewed acquaintance with some old friends.  Good trip.

July 4th

The 4^th started out a bit rugged.  We awoke to no power for reasons unknown and in preparing the food for the trip, a full jar of sweet pickles jumped from Jodi’s hands spreading its sticky contents all over the floor.

The day improved from there.  We caught the mid day ferry and were in Friday Harbor by 1:30 or so.  We elected to stay at the dock and watch the fireworks, so we found ourselves with no particular agenda other than to relax.  Perfect.

Some interesting boats at the dock, including the Hawaiian  Chieftain from Grays Harbor.

Around 5 we launched the bullfrog for an entirely pleasant water tour of Friday Harbor.  After roaming through the marina we went to the South end of the Harbor.  Impressive boats and homes – including a nice boat called ‘Abracadabra’, rock legend Steve Millers boat.

After dinner we went out to Roche to watch colors.    Colors is quite the tradition, but colors on the 4^th is pretty special.   For our family, after 50 years of summers near Roche, it was made more special with Devin being part of the crew that did the ceremony.

Let me backtrack to just over 50 years ago.  Dad related the story of his first visit to Roche Harbor.  It would have been around 1960 or ’61 in his old Blanchard 33 sailboat.  He was coming around what are now the old guest docks and as he nosed in between the docks and the beach he saw an older gentleman jogging down the dock. 

This was in the pre-electronic days and the old wooden boat had no depth sounder.  Dad had one of his crew on the bow taking soundings with a lead line and as he did so, the older gentleman at the head of the dock slowed down to a comfortable walk.  By the time Dad docked the boat, the older gentleman arrived and commented that he was going to help Dad dock the boat, but when he saw the crew taking soundings he knew the skipper was experienced and would be just fine.  The older gentleman introduced himself as Rueben Tarte.  Rueben had bought Roche Harbor Lime and Cement company a few years earlier and was still in the process of turning it into a Marina.  By all accounts, Mr. Rueben Tarte was a classy visionary, creating a resort from a tired lime and cement company.

Fast forward to 2012   The colors ceremony.  Everyone knows what happens after the flags are down.  There’s a crowd.  Not only family, but a bunch of other folks as well.  It’s a tradition.  The color guard lines up, salutes, and jumps. 

The first two in the water?  Devin and one of his co-workers Rueben – the great grandson of Roche Harbor’s founder.

Fun evening topped off with Fireworks.