By Suzanna Leigh
I’ve never done much winter sailing; I’m not a fan of cold storm winds and wet cold hands. Still, there’s something romantic about greeting the new year aboard a sailboat anchored between firework displays. Besides, Sea Change had a propane heater we wanted to try out.
We checked the weather report. Of course we did. No storms predicted, so we headed out on the last day of 2002. We passed the red nun buoy at the entrance to Quartermaster Harbor at about 1:30, just before high tide. Almost no wind, so we headed out under power. The winter sun played peek-a-boo with the clouds, giving Bob a halo as he stood at the helm with the sun behind him. Saint Bob.
We anchored off of KVI beach just as the sun was setting. We checked the depth sounder: 30 feet. We checked the tide level: even with a loss of almost of 12.5 feet of water when the tide went out; we would have plenty of water under the keel. We set the anchor tight with plenty of anchor line out, so that if the wind should come up strong from the south or southwest, the anchor would hold and we would be safe.
Time for an anchor down drink. Hot cocoa?
I confess to being spoiled. It is Bob who gets up first to start the tea water and turn on the cabin heater. It is Bob who puts on his foul weather gear and goes on deck to change the propane tank when the first one runs out. That little heater burned a lot of propane while we played cribbage and read to each other waiting for the new year to roll in.
We kissed at midnight and went on deck to watch the fireworks all around us. We could see fireworks from Des Moines, Burien, and even – over the hill of Maury Island – from Tacoma. For the rest of the night, I curled up next to Bob to keep warm and listened to the wind in the rigging.
In the morning, the sky was completely overcast and a heavy rain showed no signs of letting up. The weather report said small craft warnings for several days, with gusts to 30 knots and waves 3-4 feet. And rain. The previous report was bogus! There was no hint of storms when we checked it before leaving the dock!
Sailing and motoring between storms, in the rain, with 30-knot winds predicted, did not sound like fun. We decided to head home.
Bob pulled up the anchor around 10:30, then I took the tiller while he went below to warm his cold wet hands and wash the dishes. In spite of my long johns, turtleneck, wool Navy sweater, and warm cashmere sweater under my foul weather gear, it wasn’t long before I was shivering. Bob heated water for tea and hung up a coat hanger for my wet jacket where it could drip harmlessly over the naked quarter berth. Then he came up to take a turn at the tiller. We made it home before the winds hit.
The adventure happened when we got home and discovered that James and his friend were two days overdue from a cross-country skiing trip. Were they lost somewhere in the snow between Crystal Mountain and White Pass?
It took some finagling to get the rescue team to look for them; they couldn’t confirm that they were still in the mountains because they couldn’t find James’ car in the parking lot at Crystal Mountain. The snow plow had covered it up! When the rescue team in the helicopter finally did spot the skiers, they could see that both men were moving along well, though slowly, and decided to let them continue on their own.
James and Steve finally walked out of the woods three days late, about a quarter of a mile from their car, and still had one candy bar between them. The same rain that sent us home early had forced them to change course and to slog through heavy snow too wet to ski on.
