29th out of 29 Boats

“Hooray, it’s our first sailboat race!”

Famous last words Deetz. FAMOUS LAST WORDS you clumsy bastard!

Deetz, girl Deetz, and I were motoring on Lake Union less than an hour before we sailed in our first regatta with me at the helm. I had hoped to have a more experienced skipper to learn from just one more time, but that just didn’t happen. So I was kind of nervous all day. In fact, I was sitting in the cabin Googling “sailboat racing basics” when I heard Deetz decree with boy-like excitement, “Hooray, it’s our first sailboat race!” He then immediately stumbled, sat on the end of the tiller, and broke it in half.


There is a form of punishment called keelhauling that Deetz and I have often dreamed of administering some day on our ship. The idea is that you bound the culprit, tie him to the back of the boat, and throw him off the front of the boat. He’ll be cut up by the barnacles and likely drown as his rope gets stuck under the boat. But if he lives you drag him back in and all is forgiven. I can’t think of a more appropriate crime to justify such an ancient tradition than breaking the damn tiller 45 minutes before we participated in a race that we were already not prepared for. Alas, he is majority owner in the boat and I was out voted so he got away with it. To his credit, in true Super Deetz fashion, he temporarily repaired the tiller with a couple types of industrial tape he retrieved from his elevator van.

Lake Union is small and there are a ton of boats on the water. This Duck Dodge regatta is renowned for being casual, fun, and full of a variety of experience levels of which we made up the tail end. The start is the trickiest and most dangerous part. Without the convenience of motors, sailboats must wonder around timing their approach so they cross the finish line just after the horn. Do to bad timing, a tangle with our genoa, and some miscommunication with first time crew member The Greek, we crossed the start line 8 minutes after the horn. That’s 3 minutes after the next bracket had already started. Heckles from the committee boat helped us make sure we were acutely aware of all of this.

But we were underway, on a good course, with perfect wind, in perfect weather, under the Seattle skyline and life was good. Racing can be thought of managing an ever changing series of collision courses. An obvious set of right of way rules keep you from hitting each other. But does everyone remember them or even know them at all? I made a few good calls threading the needle between boats, but I also made some bad calls. It’s hard to stick to your course, even if you have the right of way, when two boats are bearing down on you. At full speed with only 15 feet apart I tack and I hear disappointment from the more experienced boats who now have to change course for my illogical tactic. Oppss. But we finish the race. We are recorded 29th out of 29 boats but the crew of the Endeavor knew damn well we passed 3 boats and we stake our egos on that and the satisfaction that our boat is whole … whole except for the tiller, Deetz you baboon.

All the sailboats sail around until the sun sets and the wind dies. Then about 20 boats tie up. We meet folks who inspect our boat and exchange stories. Deetz gets a kiss from a stranger as it is her first race and tradition requires her to kiss the captain or the mast. No comment on her decision. The Greek gets some digits after talking to a girl for 7.6 seconds, I meet up with Kris Lande and some sailing friends, our jaws drop as we walk through a restored tugboat, we take in the sleek lines of a true race boat, and we climb from boat to boat careful to keep our gin drinks in tact.

First Regatta - Duck Dodge

The Endeavor sailed in it's first regatta Tuesday. We raced in the 3rd start (slowest bracket) and proudly took 29th place out of 32 boats. That's right ... there were 3 boats slower than us! I'm not sure if we earned it or if Kris Lande, a gal I work with, helped us out from her privelaged position on the Duck Dodge committee boat.

Duck Dodge is a casual regatta that takes place on Lake Union in the middle of downtown Seattle. It is a crazy scene of criss-crossing boats, some people laughing, some people yelling at each other, everybody drinking, perfect weather, and the Seattle skyline and hills surrounding us. It is a hell of a good time. Definitely a uniquely special Seattle scene.

I don't know crap about racing and you can really get yourself into trouble not knowing the various right-of-way rules. So we were thankful to have Todd as our skipper showing us how it's done. Well, showing us how to get 29th place. :)

Afterwards all the boats raft up and people walk across the bows drinking, dancing, eating, and telling stories.

I ended the night sleeping by myself on the boat. Woke up the next day, swam in Lake Union, and walked to work. Good times.

Ye Shall Know Thy Tidal Currents

(crew: only Dylan & Deetz)

OKAY! I GET IT! I NEED TO PUT SOME THOUGHT INTO THE TIDES BEFORE SETTING SAIL. PLEASE JUST LET ME GAIN ON THAT GOD DAMN BUOY AND I PROMISE I'LL DO MORE RESEARCH NEXT TIME.

... so said Dylan 300 times Friday evening as he and Deetz tried to sail into the wind totally against the current. I guess that up until now I've had too many other things on my mind to give the tides any credit. But no longer. I think we left the Ballard Locks at about 8pm and made it to Bell Harbor Marina (downtown Seattle) around 11pm. What a beat! (For the record this would have taken about 10 minutes of driving time from where we started.)

There was good news though. Once we were in Elliott Bay our spirits were lifted by the the presence of the big city lights above us, ample wind, the thrill of sailing around the industrial city scape, and a fair amount of rum. Against my better judgement I copied Deetz and stood balanced on the rails of the pulpit with my back leaning against the forestay, the city above me and the driving wake splashing below. Once we got to downtown we were having so much fun we headed back out to the center of Elliott Bay for a little more time in this environment before docking.



NOTES ON BELL HARBOR MARINA:
- $35 per night for our 27' boat
- Native Americans have the best slips reserved
- the showers don't need quarters!
- you are walking distance from downtown nightlife

And so we made the most of our pridicament of only making 1/4 of the distance we intended and walked 4 blocks to meet-up with some of Deetz' chronies. I'm incredibly suprised they let me into Twist (fancy pants bar) with my sandals, tattered rugby jersey, and salty wind blown hair. Afterwards we left and were followed by a mermaid. By dawn we had slaughtered enough songs on our blurry guitar that it was time for bed.

Soooooooo ... this caused us to sleep in and, after the mermaid slipped back into the oily harbor she came from, we sailed BACK up wind again AND directly upstream of the current. Sheesh ... clowns!

At 4pm at the north end of Vashon Island we realized there was no f'n way we could make it to the south end of Vashon into the safety of their sweet little naturally protected waters. So for fun we got a little speed on a beam reach to Fauntelory and then back on a beam reach to the marina at Blake Island.

Dock, bullshit with sailors, walk the beach, sad attempt at fishing, grill halibut on the BBQ attached to the stern rail, BBQ comes loose dropping corn into water, Dylan does once in a lifetime save of grilled pesto basil seasoned halibut, eat, discussion of the Grand Sail over gin, and then bed.

NOTES ON BLAKE ISLAND MARINA:
- cheap, only .50/ft
- apparently gets very crowded in summer; many moorings and good places to anchor all around island
- hike and bike trails all over island are great
- sterile state park setting attracts scores of annoying boy scouts (lucky for them they stay out of range of our cannons)

The next day we met an interesting character that invited us onto his beautiful 34' sloop. As his kid spilled small toys everywhere he told recounted scores of stories and useful information in his possibly eastern European accent. He filled a notecard full of tips and Deetz nearly learned something before we left to set sail. The run home was HARMONIOUS. For only the second time ever we hoisted the spinnaker (big balloon like colorful sail; can be a complicated process). We've had ZERO schooling on how to do this. The first time last year was horrible and we only avoided serious disaster by Deetz' luck and my wife's karma. This time, if you were close to us, you would have seen me reading the same page of "Sail Trim Theory" 12 times before I went to set-up the rigging. But from afar I dare say we looked much better than the damn fools we were last time; this time we were clearly AMATEURS. :)

CONCLUSIONS:
- The best part about staying in a marina is meeting all the other people there. It's a great way to get tips, advice, and stories.
- We both know enough to get by raising and tacking with a spinnaker.
- I SWEAR I WILL PAY ATTENTION TO THE TIDES.
- A fun sail could be from the locks to Bell Harbor Marina. Then go party or eat downtown and stumble back to the boat.

Ross Goes Sailing

Delicate Dan, Mustard, and I took Ross out sailing on the Sound during his visit to the Great Northwest. The wind and weather was just about perfect and I've never seen so many sailboats out on the Sound other than during regattas.

We sailed across the Sound and back drinking rum and gin drinks. We got to pass two giant seals on a buoy who barked and wailed as we passed. We had to dodge a huge cruise ship and a very large shipping vessel. Delicate Dan had the bright idea to tack back sooner than later so we could take on the big wake from the ship. But alas, we couldn't get the water over our bow. :(

We ended the night eating shish-kabobs at the docks in South Lake Union and drinking more than our fair share of the the rations.

First Sail of 2009 - Lake Union

The glorious day of sun and 74 degree weather yesterday FORCED us to take the boat out after work. Deetz, Delicate Dan, and a new crew member, Daniel Bryant (from here on to be referred to only as Mustard) were all on board. I forgot how much fun sailing was and the excitement made the gin flow at top speed. We just messed around tacking and jibing back and forth on the little downtown city lake until the wind died at dusk. After that we just floated around aimlessly until it was time to give in and go home. This is going to be a great year.

The McGee's Go Sailing

We squeezed in one last casual sail in the remaining days of pleasant fall weather when Jason McGee and his lovely wife Chris came to visit. The batteries didn't have water in them so the engine wouldn't start. I borrowed and returned a battery I found on another boat to give us a jump start and we were on our way. We decided to take it easy and head out to Lake Washington instead of Puget Sound. There are a couple of draw bridges along the way. So we pulled out our air horn to signal them to open and "bppphhissssssss". It was empty. After about 15 minutes of trying to hail the bridge over radio someone else opened it and off we went.

There wasn't really any wind at all on the lake but spirits remained high anyway. We drank rum and cooked brats on the grill that hangs over the railing. I got a chance to know Chris a little better and as much as I love my old friend Jason I frankly don't know how he landed this gal. :) Smart, comfortable with herself, confident, fun, easy going, and beautiful. Fine work Jason. I apologize for those 8 years after high school where I questioned your sexuality.

After plenty of new and old stories we headed back. Of course the motor wouldn't start again so Deetz spent about 15 minutes leaning off the back of the boat trying to pull start the motor. I should note that the motor doesn't have a rip chord. Deetz used some reef lines (rope) to wrap around this emergency pull start ring on the top of the motor. After plenty of yanking the rope and then re-wrapping it the damn thing started. We actually got a little wind and enjoyed a broad reach for about 30 minutes. It was a good day and it's fun to sail even with no wind with the right company.

Treasure at Smugglers Island

In the last weeks of summer Deetz, Delicate Dan, and I sailed to Smugglers Island. Well, these days it’s called Blake Island but back during prohibition it was a hideout for rum runners. It was all down wind and it was cool to pass across the Seattle skyline wing and wing (e.g. cool, optimized, risky, sail configuration) in the warm summer air.




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Our goal was to learn how to anchor securely so we could go to sleep on the boat without being in a marina. Any dope can throw an anchor overboard but it gets more complicated when you have changing tides, currents, and wind direction. As we came around the corner of the island we saw about a dozen other sailboats anchored with their crew hanging out on the beach around fires. What a great gig these people had and now we got to take our place in the same scene. Suddenly the water next to us exploded into white thrashing! A giant seal had surfaced and was ripping a salmon apart by tossing it side to side violently in the air. He was only 15 feet off starboard and he barely stopped to look us over and then went back to work. They are HUGE! Seeing wildlife up close is a cool perk of not using a motor.

From Sail to Smugglers Island

We tested our anchor as best as we knew how and then pulled out “the dinghy”. It occurred to us that maybe we should have tested it before we needed it. Our dinghy was really just a very cheap blow up raft hardly big enough for two men. It was covered with 4 years of mold which was pretty disgusting to clean off. We tied ropes to it and went over one by one to shore. That night we drank rum and gin, ate well, and played a ton of guitar. Every boat within ½ mile was serenaded, like it or not, to Robert Earl Keen and other Texas folk music.

From Sail to Smugglers Island

The anchor held. I woke up looking at a blue sky as we gently tossed in the waves. We sobered up by diving into the cold clear water off the sailboat and then had some breakfast. Then we made another trip to shore to bury our treasure:
· 200 paces north along the beach
· Climb the shoreline
· Notice a leaning tree marked with a shovel several times
· When you come to the first large madrona tree you’ll find a landing about 10 ft by 10 ft.
· The treasure is in the center of the landing about 4 feet down.

Where do you start? Well, that’s a secret.

From Sail to Smugglers Island

The sail back home was a tough one; six hours or more beating directly up wind as best as we could. Delicate Dan bowed out ¼ way through and retired to the cabin to powder his vagina. It is tiring holding a course in strong winds for that many sustained hours. The boat is keeled over, your legs are constantly braced, and the bow is crashing through the waves. We took a slight diversion off our course to get as close to a big red buoy where two seals were lounging. I can’t imagine how those fat bastards jump 5 feet out of the water to land on that slippery bobbing surface but I guess it’s easy for them. They barely tilted their heads to watch us as we slipped silently by only 20 feet away.

From Sail to Smugglers Island

That was the last sail of the summer. Now we look forward to putting on some foul weather gear and taking on a winter storm at sea. Arrgggghh!!! Drink up me hardies yo ho!

From Sail to Smugglers Island