The 2019 Salish 100, Day Six

Thursday, June 27th

I decided to get off to an early start, and the wind that everyone was worried about last night was already up. I had some difficulty even getting off the dock as the wind had me pinned, and I was in an awkward position for motoring back into the narrow channel of the marina. After an embarrassing 180 in the wrong direction I sorted myself out, and motored out of the marina and into Apple Tree Cove. The water in this bay is VERY shallow, even drying out at low tide, so wind and waves pile up here, making for some very confused seas. This plus the ferries churning up the water can make things interesting, to say the least. While some boats were looking forward to some "sporting conditions" for the day, I was very nervous, having sailed these waters many times before, and remembering a few times where the conditions around Foul Weather Bluff and off of Point No Point had seriously scared me. And that was in my previous boat, a Flicka of over 6,000lbs displacement! Doing it in my Montgomery 15 of only 750lbs displacement had me really nervous as I looked out at dark clouds and whitecaps. I knew the boat would be fine, I just wasn't too sure about ME!

As I left Apple Tree Cove and headed east I misjudged the ferry schedule and had to give the little Honda full throttle to get out of the ferry's way -- oops! At least I didn't get the horn blast of shame. I hate being a nuisance to those guys, they work hard to keep things on schedule, and avoid all the dumb pleasure boaters who can't stay out of their ferry lanes.

As I left the marina I had Cupcake tied up tight to the stern of Vanilla, and as rough as it was I decided to leave it that way to try to keep the dinghy under control. Once I got away from Kingston it was blowing pretty good, but everything seemed fine and I decided to just keep motoring to get through the worst areas as fast as I could. The organizers had warned us to stay as close as possible to shore. This was both to pick up the contrary current running north, as well as to avoid the potentially deadly tidal rips that give this area its well earned reputation.

I was within about a mile of Point No Point when I saw a small boat having difficulties. I immediately called the support boats to alert them to a potential problem. It turned out that the boat had lost its rudder as the large waves had lifted it right off of its pintles and gudgeons! It took 15 or 20 minutes for them to get the rudder reattached, and with the support boats aware of the issue, and no immediate danger to the other vessel, I motored on.

The closer I got to Point No Point, the rougher the seas got, and the more the wind strengthened. Waves were now into the 3 to 4 foot range, with regular whitecaps. I skirted right by the beach, shallow enough to see the bottom, making fishermen curse under their breath as they had to haul in their lines to avoid being snagged by my boat. I had no choice -- 20 yards farther offshore and the waves were truly frightening. 

As I zipped past the point I realized Cupcake was in trouble, and possibly so was I. The dinghy was jumping like a wild bronco, slamming into the back of my boarding ladder and trying to tear itself apart. I had to let out some of the towline to give it room. The dinghy started lurching crazily back and forth, slamming back on the towrope, then rushing forward barely missing my stern, and risking getting the towline tangled in the prop. Ordinarily, you would match the wave pattern for the dinghy and main boat so they are both on the crests and in the troughs at the same time, but it was impossible in those confused seas, and the extra drag of the dinghy pulled me to a virtual standstill. All I could do was let out all the towline I had, and hope for the best. I looked back to see the dinghy sliding back and forth, up and down the waves in an erratic, crazy fashion, lurching hard at the end of the rope every few seconds. I couldn't worry about Cupcake though, I needed to focus on keeping Vanilla moving forward...

...and it was at that point the motor died. 

Dammit! Out of gas. 

My boat immediately turned beam onto the seas and started rolling heavily, while the dinghy kept pulling violently at the towline. Somehow I managed to refuel and get the motor going without getting thrown out of the boat, and I turned once again northwest and downwind, totally focused on getting past Foulweather Bluff. 

(Now why it never occurred to me to raise my jib and sail under better control than motoring I will never know. I guess once you are in those conditions, your mind says, "Stay the course!" in the hopes that you won't make a bad decision, and make things much, much worse. Live, learn, and do better next time.)

What seemed like only a few minutes later I glanced back to see how Cupcake was doing...no Cupcake!!! I grabbed the tow rope, and hauled it in to find that Cupcake had somehow unshackled herself and decided she was done with my lack of seamanship, and was off in search of a better skipper. Under the circumstances I couldn't blame her. Scanning the horizon I could see Cupcake about a half mile back, bobbing like a cork, happy as you please. 

At this point I nearly despaired. How was I going to turn around in those conditions and motor AGAINST those waves and wind to go get Cupcake?! (Another boat had lost an expensive oar, and had decided it wasn't safe to turn around and abandoned it. Fortunately another boat saw it and grabbed it.) I called the support boats, advising them of my situation, and letting them know I would try to go back for my dinghy. I was terrified to go back, and sorely tempted to abandon her. I set my nerve though, and swung the bow around.

The timing of the maneuver was critical, and I will say it was luck rather than skill that brought the boat around facing south again. Vanilla slammed off of every wave, and the motor was out of the water more than it was in it as the throttle raced every time the prop came out of the water. It was a wet and wild ride, but eventually Cupcake was only about a boat length away. 

Now what was I supposed to do? 

I didn't want a wave throwing the dinghy on top of me, or worse, making her punch a hole in the side of my boat. Luck was again on my side, and with faith in my harness and tether, I stretched out at the right moment, and as she tried to race past me I grabbed ahold of Cupcake with a death grip. The waves immediately tried to tear her from my grasp, but I was able to hold on long enough to get the shackle clipped on to the bow eye again. I let out about twenty feet of line, and turned back towards Foulweather Bluff, as Cupcake resumed her crazy, erratic dance at the end of the towline.

Whew!!

It felt as though the wind was easing off as I approached the bluff, and my buddy Arnie in his Montgomery 15 came up alongside about 50 yards away, as white-knuckled as I was. He was motoring too, so it wasn't just me choosing the arguably safer approach. Passing Foulweather Bluff the wind mercifully dropped off enough that we could cut our motors, raise our jibs, and finally sail. The sun even broke free, and we had a beautiful sail the rest of the way to the Mats Mats Bay entrance.

The entrance to the bay is unnerving and tricky. You can't even see it from the water until you are almost on top of it. There are buoys that you line up to make sure you are oriented correctly to avoid the submerged rocks which make the approach dangerous if you are not entering it just right. Then as you enter the channel, staying well to the north side, there is a sharp 90 degree turn to port, and as you make the turn you see beautiful little Mats Mats Bay, completely protected .

I quietly motored in to the northwest corner of the bay and dropped my anchor. Testing it I found it to be dragging, and pulling it back up I saw it was clogged with weeds and grass. Fortunately I had another anchor better suited to that type of bottom, so I swapped them out, felt the anchor bite as I backed down on it, then shut the motor off and collapsed in the cabin, exhausted. I made a snack and a cup of well earned coffee, then sat up on the bow until rain threatened, when I snuck inside for a nap. Safe, warm, and dry...but geez, what a day.

Sorry, no pics of the day's rough water adventure, I was a little too busy to take photos! 

Arnie motors past as the wind and waves finally calm down

Still some sizable rollers, but nothing like before

Safe in Mats Mats Bay

Cupcake, looking all innocent, and none the worse for wear after the nightmare she had nearly caused earlier in the day

Waiting out the only significant rain we had the entire cruise

A small cabin, but cozy, especially when it's pouring out!

A beautiful rainbow to cap an exciting day

The 2019 Salish 100, Day Five

Wednesday, June 26th

Surprisingly, despite hearing the occasional scampering of little feet above me during the night, I slept pretty well. There were some filthy little footprints on deck in the morning, but we escaped more or less unscathed, with only a little bit of cleaning up to do after last night's trash panda party.

Today we were facing another significant challenge, and that was to get across the ferry lanes without being run down by one of those car-carrying monsters. Typical WA State Ferry stats are
Length: 460 feet, beam: 90 feet, draft: 17 feet, passengers: up tp 2,500, vehicle capacity: over 200, and 4 engines with 16,000 horsepower, and a top speed of over 18 knots!
It goes without saying that we did not want to get in their way. The problem was going to be trying to organize over 100 boats, leaving at different times, and traveling at different speeds, into a safe passage through the ferry lanes, with ferries crossing every 15 to 20 minutes!

There was no wind to speak of, so another quiet day of motoring lay ahead. Fortunately for me, with an outboard motor this was a non-issue, but I was wondering how the human-powered boats were going to get across those ferry lanes without getting into trouble, or worse -- being run down. The plan was to have groups of similarly paced boats leave at predetermined times, in between the crossings of the ferries, to minimize boats being strung out in a mass of chaos. It ended up being very similar to herding cats though, with boats spread out all over the place, exactly what the organizers were trying to avoid. The VHF radios were going nonstop, with skippers giving updates on their status, organizers and chase boats trying to keep everything under control while updating us on the ferry positions, and the usual fun banter.

I motored east a bit to get an earlier view of the eastbound boat coming out of Rich Passage, and when I thought I had enough time I started to cross the ferry lane. Nope! Less than five minutes later I realized there was no way I was going to be able to get across without ending up in the path of the westbound boat! They travel so fast that I seriously misjudged the ferry's speed, and before I knew it that monster was barreling down on me...so I turned tail and ran! When I could see he was well clear and I was sure the eastbound boat had passed safely by I made my second attempt at crossing, and made it through without issue, the motor going flat out just in case. There were a few scary moments for some of the rowing craft and some of the becalmed sailboats, but eventually everyone passed through the ferry lane and we slowly made our uneventful way north to Kingston. The entrance to the harbor was very windy as usual, but being so close to the marina I kept motoring in.

The harbormaster in Kingston was just wonderful. It was obvious he was very excited to have us all there, and went above and beyond to make sure all the boats had a berth for the night, although most of the fleet was rafted up with multiple boats in each slip. I lucked out and only had a single boat in front of me, so no one would be crawling over my boat to get to the bathrooms in the middle of the night.

I was very excited to be in Kingston because my wife was coming over from Seattle for a quick visit, and I was really looking forward to seeing her after so much time alone. I took a wonderful shower (the Kingston Marina has great showers!), and once she arrived we ate our fill at Jaime Les Crepes across the street, had ice cream, then walked the docks, socializing and enjoying the afternoon before she went back home. Feeling kind of lonely I headed for the big evening BBQ that Kingston Mercantile had planned for us. I had a nice time, ate some more good food, sang some sea shanties, and listened to the final skipper's meeting before heading back to the boats for what I thought was going to be a relaxing evening.

It was when I got back to the boat that I overheard some skippers talking about tomorrow's weather forecast. Yikes...!

Rachel Doss and Guppy enter the Blake Island Marina for resupply before heading north

Tom Graham's gorgeous CLC Pocketship on glassy seas

Looking for monstrous ferries in the distance

Trip Slaughter's CLC Skerry high, and dry. Kingston Marina in the background

Great food at the BBQ in Kingston

And great company!

Day Five, estimated mileage

The 2019 Salish 100, Day Four

Tuesday, June 25th

My plan was to get off to an early start, motor all the way to Blake Island Marine State Park and get a slip for the night. I had anchored off of Blake in the past, but I had no dinghy then so was unable to go ashore. This time around I was really looking forward to exploring the island. Winds were predicted to be light to nonexistent so I knew it was going to be a boring day under outboard power, and I had nothing but sympathy for those who were going to be rowing all day.

Today's route was beyond simple: exit Gig Harbor and turn left! It was a straight shot up Colvos Passage with Vashon Island on the right, past the Southworth/Fauntleroy ferry and on to Blake Island dead north. Colvos Passage defies all logic, and the tide runs north no matter which direction it is flowing elsewhere. Amazing! Today we would pass the halfway point, about midway up Colvos Passage.

Compared to yesterday's excitement this was an easy and uneventful day. This makes for boring adventure writing I'm sorry to say, so pictures will have to tell the story.

Exiting Gig Harbor, the Gig Harbor lighthouse

The rowing begins. Tacoma and Mount Rainier provide nice scenery while 

Edwin Slaughter pulls at the oars.

Vanilla and I motoring north, too lazy to raise sail

Even under power it ain't a bad way to spend a day!

Almost through Colvos Passage

Once out of Colvos Passage and through the Southworth/Fauntleroy ferry lane I motored along the east side of Blake Island. Anchored in the bay on the northeast corner of the island was the most beautiful sailboat in all of the Pacific Northwest, the magnificent Adventuress! I passed by near enough to wave before turning west and making my way into the narrow entrance of the Blake Island Marina.

Shortly after arriving and tying up in this peaceful, idyllic boater's sanctuary, I heard what I can only describe as "the party" arriving. Apparently Argosy Cruises visits Blake with one of their humongous tour boats, blasting hideous disco and hiphop at ear-damaging levels, 'cause...summer outdoors, right? A huge crowd of outdoor enthusiasts disembarked this vessel and wandered around sort of aimlessly, looking like they had no idea how to enjoy themselves without "the party". Fortunately, this floating day-rave was only staying for a short while, and before becoming too much of a nuisance the music cranked up, and "the party" motored off to take their revelers elsewhere.

But that is not what Blake Island will be remembered for, oh no...

                             

Passing to the east of Blake Island, the spectacular Adventuress lies at anchor

Snugly tied up and ready for visitors 

Ahhh, the peace and quiet...

...until "The Party" pulls in

Time to go for a walk and explore before dinner

Almost immediately after arriving they came out of nowhere. Dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands for all I know. Raccoons have taken over the island! They were like rats, crawling everywhere and trying to steal anything edible that they could get their creepy little hands on. They were fearless, crawling right onto boats when people's backs were turned, breaking into boats to steal food, and then disappearing under the dock before you could do anything about it. It was very unnerving, and we worked in shifts to keep them off of each other's boats while we were away. No matter what you were doing, or where on the island you were, they were right there, just waiting for an opportunity. After a while we got used to it, but still...creepy.

The evil Trash Panda!

Despite the trash panda invasion it was still a beautiful island to explore. And the evening was filled with socializing, and walking the docks talking boats and cruising. I was even able to enjoy dinner with only a couple of half-hearted attempts at animal piracy, easily repelled by clapping and forceful commands of "OFF! NO!!!"

Freeze-dried dinner is fast and tasty

Waiting, just...waiting*

"You have to sleep eventually"*

Day Three, estimated mileage

*These are not my photos and are only used for dramatic effect. They are not far very off from the truth though. Raccoons are an invasive and unmanaged menace on Blake, a detriment to tourism and the enjoyment of the island, and something really should be done about it.

The 2019 Salish 100, Day Two

Sunday, June 23rd

Waking up with an even worse headache than I went to bed with was not the way I wanted to start my day! There was nothing for it though, so it was eat breakfast (a pre-made mix of oatmeal with fruit and powdered milk, and coffee) and raise anchor for the next day's adventure.

Today we'd be doing a sort of dog-leg run further down Dana Passage, turning south after rounding Johnson Point, skirting the Nisqually Reach, before turning north to pass west of Anderson Island and McNeil Island (the former penitentiary). The route would lead us through Drayton Passage and narrow Pitt Passage with the very shallow waters around Pitt Island before we would turn west after rounding Penrose Point and enter Mayo Cove and Penrose Point State Park -- a day's run of approximately 16 miles.

The fleet makes its way north out of Henderson Inlet

The winds were very light again, and the fleet ghosted along at a walking pace. Sailing in wind this light is very challenging and requires constant attention to catch every little zephyr, while trying not to move at all and not to upset the delicate balance of the boat. It also gives you lots of time to chat with boats as you pass by, which makes for a fun and social day on the water. Even with a pounding head and the resulting nausea.

Entering Drayton Passage

Josh Colvin in SCAMP #1

Approaching Pitt Passage

Entering Pitt Passage

Vanilla leads the fleet out of Pitt Passage

The fleet ghosted along all day until we passed Pitt Island, where the wind began to fill in. The closer we got to Penrose Point, the more the wind built until we were cranking along in 12 to 15 knots of breeze, and having a rollicking good time! It was so much fun watching everyone zip around, jockeying for position as we entered Mayo Cove and approached the anchorage. Most of the smaller, shallow draft boats snuck into the tiny, inner, protected harbor (later that night this would prove to be a fortuitous decision). I motored back there to check it out, but decided it looked too crowded for anchoring out. Instead, I went back out to the main anchorage, dropped the hook, took 3 Ibuprofen and drank a ginger beer, and lay down for a short nap.

Tucked safely into Penrose Point State Park

The nap and meds did the trick, and I woke feeling much better and refreshed. I made a lunch of crackers, sausage, cheese sticks, and a banana, and leaned against the front of the cabin top with my feet kicked up, relaxing and watching the other sailors find their anchoring spots, row around, and explore the beach. The breeze was still blowing pretty good, and although the sun was hot, the temperature on the water was perfectly comfortable. This was what I had come on this trip to do, and I couldn't have been happier in that moment! I eventually got up the energy to go for a row, and took Cupcake over to visit Arnie and Dave. We had a nice chat, and I rowed around a bit more before heading back to Vanilla and making dinner. It had been a long day, and at sunset I crawled into bed and turned out the lights. I was looking forward to a peaceful, restful night's sleep. Unfortunately, none of us in the outer harbor were going to be that lucky.

Out for a row in the little demon

Dave and Arnie have rafted up with a Montgomery 17

Dave's mother ship, Naomi, with Arnie rafted to starboard

Looking west as the sun finally shines

Cupcake. Can you see that evil look in her eye?

Bunny Whaler and Grasshopper rafted up, definitely a party!

It must have been around midnight when a thumping sound on the hull startled me awake. Loud, insistent, and too aggressive to ignore. I popped my head out of the hatch, and there was Cupcake, bumping against Vanilla's hull, right by my head. Irritated, I tossed a fender over the side, tied the dink close in so it couldn't move, and crawled back into my warm bag. I drifted off to sleep again...but not for long. Suddenly, I was almost tossed out of my berth and onto the cabin floor, with the boat rocking violently side to side! I jumped out of bed and stuck my head out of the hatch, wondering if I was going to see a whale trying to swamp my boat, or if there was a harbor seal trying to get aboard. There was no immediate threat that I could see, but the boat was still rocking violently side to side. As I looked out across the bay I could see every masthead light swinging in a crazy arc, as every boat on the water was tossed back and forth. I could hear engines start as boats tried to reposition themselves, or pull away from their raftups so they wouldn't be smashed against each other. Anchor chains were coming up all over the bay as boats tried to reset their dragging anchors, and keep from drifting into each other or onto the beach and rocks. My anchor seemed to be holding at the moment, so I hunkered down and just tried to hold on to Vanilla the bucking bronco! This insanity must have lasted for at least an hour before things finally began to calm down, and I was able to lie down and once again try to get some sleep. We never did hear what had caused this crazy wave action, but there were many theories. Some speculated on a small tsunami; others thought a submarine or large ship must have passed by; some thought it was some self-generated wave frequency that continued to build until running out of energy. Whatever it was, I hope to NEVER experience anything like that ever again!

Day two, estimated mileage

The 2019 Salish 100, Day Three

Monday, June 24th

I woke up feeling fine, and poked my head out of the hatch to see a gorgeous morning. Sun, light wind, the last dregs of fog blowing off the water, another beautiful day ahead.

Glassy water, and Simeon on Noddy, still sleeping under his cozy cockpit cover

Arnie, Dave, and another M15 rafted up together, getting ready to depart

Another SCAMP looking cozy. Can't say the same about the boat that ended up on the beach! 

Check those tides, people...

The day's route would take us from Penrose Point State Park to Gig Harbor, passing through Hale Passage and the Tacoma Narrows, a distance of approximately 15 miles. Upon arriving we were to be treated to a BBQ hosted by Gig Harbor Boat Works. There also was a shower at the marina, which I was really looking forward to!

After enjoying another simple, pre-assembled breakfast, I tidied up the cabin, got my gear sorted for the day, and prepared to raise anchor. With the light breeze I decided to just sail off my anchor and depart quietly. I raised my mainsail, and began hauling my anchor line. I was startled to see my anchor easily pull free of the bottom, well before I was over the top of it! With any significant wind my anchor would have certainly dragged last night. It's possible that the rocking and rolling overnight loosened it, or maybe it wasn't set as hard as I thought it was, but it was an eye opener, and I was very lucky. Once I was directly over my anchor with the main luffing into the wind, I hauled in the remaining few feet of anchor rode, hoisted my jib, and sailed away. 

The wind was very light, and several other boats and I sailed sedately out of the bay and into Carr Inlet. About halfway across the inlet I started thinking of my dear friend and sailing buddy Lee, who had passed away several years ago. We had done everything together and he was my co-conspirator on many adventures. I thought to myself, "Lee, you are supposed to be out here with me. Why aren't you here?!" and I started sobbing uncontrollably, missing him so much and wishing more than anything that he could share this grand adventure with me. It took me a while to calm down and pull myself together. Every time I'm on the water I think of him and all the wonderful times we shared.

Once I crossed Carr Inlet the wind died and it was time to motor into Hale Passage

A newer model Montgomery 15 motoring down Hale Passage

Light winds in Hale Passage

Passing Fox Island to the South and approaching the Tacoma Narrows

I looked back to see Arnie catching up to me...

...and at a higher RPM he passed right on by!

Approaching Point Fosdick (Hey, I didn't name it!)

The wind started to fill in a tiny bit as I approached Point Fosdick and the entrance to the Tacoma Narrows, so I killed my motor and raised all sail. The tide was flowing north, so with a favorable wind I could make a quick passage. I started to cut the corner in close to the point, hoping for more wind and a boost in current as the water got shallower. A steady stream of gigantic powerboats was making the water so rough that it was hard to keep my sails full though, and I started drifting in closer to the point. As I cursed the noisy stinkpots the wind died completely and I started to spin in circles, completely out of control. The current and waves from the powerboat wakes started to push me in towards shore, and I decided to start my motor and get out of there. I pulled, and I pulled, and nothing. Now I was 20 feet from the rocky shore, and getting rapidly closer. Anxiously I pulled, pulled, and frantically pulled some more. Nothing! When I needed it most it looked like my motor was going to fail me and I was going to end up on the rocks! I could see Sunkissed, a distinctive orange Montgomery 17 rapidly approaching under power, no doubt intending to throw me a tow rope and pull me off the rocks, but with one more massive desperate pull the cursed motor roared to life, and under full throttle I threw the helm hard over and averted disaster, skirting the point by 10 feet at most. Lessons learned? Never approach an unfamiliar point to leeward in light wind under sail with a-hole powerboats buzzing around you every thirty seconds. And thank you for having my back, Sunkissed!

The rest of the trip to Gig Harbor was mostly a blur. I was flooded with adrenaline, and just motored the entire way. The was no chance I was going to risk shutting off the motor again until I was tied to a dock, or to another boat! The entrance to the harbor was quite narrow, and I was happy to be motoring through it, and even happier when Dave and Arnie saw me approaching and offered a spot for me to raft up next to them, which I eagerly accepted. 

So happy to be in Gig Harbor!

Approaching the raft-up 

Safely rafted up to Dave's boat Naomi, with Arnie opposite. 

A small part of the S100 fleet

Once we were all settled everyone jumped in their dinghy and made a beeline for the marina showers, the first shower since leaving for Olympia, five days ago! We almost felt like human beings again as we headed to the BBQ put on by the Gig Harbor Boat Shop. Boatwright Tom Regen gave us a wonderful tour, and there was food and drink for everyone and a chance for all of us to hang out together and swap yarns about the trip. After gorging ourselves, Arnie, Dave and I found a small ice cream shop with the best huckleberry ice cream I had ever had! Well all then jumped in our dinghies and headed back to our respective boats, where I got inspired to row around the bay, while Dave raised the sail in his dinghy and went for an evening cruise. I slept very easy that night, knowing that the next day was an easy one with little chance of getting myself in trouble.

Racing for the showers

Arnie is winning

Gig Harbor Boat Shop on the right

Inside the shop with one of their current projects

Post ice cream bliss

Dave ghosting around the bay

Day three, estimated mileage