By Suzanna Leigh
June 24th
I was in La Conner scrubbing dark gray lichen off the boat hatch when I got the text. It was from R.
“Hi Love, I just heard our friend Wesley passed away last weekend. Her memorial is 11:00 a.m. on Sunday, June 29th. Can you come?”
Of course I will come! We leave here tomorrow morning.
June 25th
OMG I have never seen so many herons! The tide is way out and there are HUNDREDS standing ankle-deep on the acres and acres of mud flats at the north end of Swinomish Channel – all looking south as if expecting something! Herons to our right, and an eagle perched on a piling to our left.
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The wind came up and we had a nice sail almost to the southeast end of Lopez Island before tacking and heading for Deception Pass. Deception Pass is tricky; the tidal current runs up to 7 knots and we do 4 knots – 5 if we really push it. Even with the current going our way, there were eddies and whirlpools and back eddies and upwellings to watch out for. Sometimes there would be an eddy a few boat lengths off to our port side and James would begin to breathe easy – until it suddenly surged toward us!
When we got near Oak Harbor, the wind was strong enough to heel the boat over so far that the cabin floor was too steep for me to get from one side of the boat to the other. By then, James was at the tiller again and loving it, but I was so tired I was almost in tears. We took down the sails and powered up so that we could reach Coupeville before dark – never mind that it takes more gas!
We tied up at the historic wooden Coupeville dock (built in 1905, and still in use) just as the sun was setting.
June 26th
Coupeville
It was just dawning when James popped his head out of his sleeping bag and asked, “Is there any wind?” Last night was windy; it shook the boat and sent waves to rock it. I lay awake worrying that the mooring lines wouldn’t hold. They did.
A single crow is dive-bombing an eagle on the roof peak of one of the buildings lining the shore. A harsh cry alerted us to a heron landing on a piling just a few feet from the boat. The wind has died and the water is quiet.
It is 5.5 feet deep on a normal low tide here, but today there’s a minus 3 foot tide. We need to leave before we find ourselves high and dry.
June 27th
We set the anchor down in Kingston last night, just long enough to eat the dinner James cooked while I was at the helm. We checked the depth with our lead line and realized we would be sitting on mud when the tide went out, so we tied up in one of the many empty slips at the marina. After two 12-hour days, we are ready for a slower morning with crepes at Jai Amie Crepes, and showers. My brain isn’t awake yet, my hand is painfully numb from long hours at the tiller yesterday, and I am drinking two cups of tea to ease a headache. Sailing with James, I use muscles I didn’t know I had! Even so, sailing makes me come alive!
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We left the marina at 11 a.m. The spot where we had anchored for dinner was all mud, a foot or so above water level. We steered carefully between the red and green buoys marking the harbor entrance – and went aground. We were able to back off, and decided to follow a resident sailboat whose captain knew the harbor. It went out the same way we did – and hit ground so hard the stern rose up.
A small fishing boat came in on the “wrong” side of the buoy and made it through safely. Their depth sounder said 4 feet. We draw 3.6, so we were able to slip out safely.
James went on the marine radio to alert two sailboats heading in. After a bit, we looked back to see them hanging out at the harbor entrance but still afloat.
Tonight we will anchor next to Blake Island, and tomorrow – home in time for Wesley’s memorial!
