Days One and Two: Fun for All Ages

Day One: Everett to Point Hudson

The ‘Hood cared for us nicely on the 30 mile trip from Everett to Point Hudson, which is without a doubt the coolest, most underrated little marina on Puget Sound. We pulled in after a little more than 5 hours of sailing and motoring on what turned into a very nice day, even if the winds were a little on the slim side. Still, the long reach from Double Bluff on Whidbey Island across to Oak Bay was perfect: 6 knots in flat water.

We grabbed the last slip at Point Hudson and set about being tourists in a town we have been to a hundred times.

Right before I went to bed I checked in on the NOAA forecast for the Straits of Juan de Fuca onWednesday. Here’s a bad recipe:

OVERNIGHT: GALE WARNING IN EFFECT. WEST WINDS 20-35 KNOTS EASING AFTER 3 AM. WIND WAVES 3-5 FEET.

WEDNESDAY: SMALL CRAFT ADVISORY. NORTHWEST WINDS 15-20 KNOTS RISING TO 25 KNOTS IN THE AFTERNOON. WIND WAVES 3-5 FEET.

So I “slept” worrying about the next day’s crossing. There’s only one way from Port Townsend to the San Juans: across the Straits. My drowsy plan: get up and out early, before the winds rose and the waves had a chance to build. We’d have a little ebb tide to ride out into the Straits and if the timing was right we would enter Cattle Pass between San Juan and Lopez Islands at slack. Perfect.

Day Two: How to Take a Pounding

Up at 6:30, we were out of the slip by 7:00 and into thick fog in Admiralty Inlet. Smooth water and no wind. So far, my plan was working. We were doing over 7 knots with the tide and only encountered one tug as we crossed the shipping lanes. As we neared the Whidbey Island side of Admiralty, we turned north and made a course for Lopez Island.

Flashback: Labor Day 2005. Cap’n Ron and GVB, aboard Allegro are headed for Victoria BC, riding a big ebb out of Admiralty Inlet on a perfectly calm morning. Then all hell broke loose as the Point Wilson Rip Tide smacked us down. Massive standing waves with no wind pounded us into submission.

So I knew the rip was there. And I knew it was serious, but I didn’t expect it on this trip since the currents were so mild. I also allowed for it by reaching across to the Whidbey side to get away from the worst of it if it was there.

As soon as I crossed the shipping lane the fog lifted just enough for me to see Point Partridge to the north, and sure enough, there was the line of white caps stretching across the channel. With the current pulling us along we were in it in minutes: just enough time for your timid captain to get some foul weather gear on and make sure the kids and the Admiral had PFDs handy.

The Point Wilson Rip isn’t like most others. Most rip currents in the Sound create swirling water that pushes and pulls you. A little slapping chop is the worst wave action you get out of any of them. But the Point Wilson Rip, with the long westerly swell fetch from the Straits and the entire Puget Sound flushing its toilet out Admiralty Inlet, is a different monster. Add a westerly wind in the Straits and it just gets worse. The waves in the Point Wilson Rip stand straight up and bounce off each other. The current drags you into them and they just beat the crap out of you. The waves are STEEP, breaking, and fast. They come one after the other with no rhythm or predictable sequence. For the helmsman, it’s a nightmare.

Regular waves, no matter how big, are pretty easy to deal with on a sailboat, especially under sail. You hit them at an angle off the bow and ride over them. Last time I crossed the Straits on the ‘Hood I was alone, and that’s all I had: a westerly wind of 10 knots and a 5 foot swell. Perfect.

Today we got pounded. Beaten. Battered. Everything was tied down and stowed fine (Lesson #1 from the Allegro Bashing). And I knew better than to turn around to try to get out of it (Lesson #2 from the Allegro Bashing). And we were fine through most of it, even if the Admiral was both a little angry with my decision to go that way and the first mate was a little green from trying to play Barbies in the forward berth while we were rolling 40 degrees each way and pitching almost vertically over the waves.

Then the wind died. Without wind in the sails the boat whipped around even worse with every wave, and it means we had to fire up the Yanmar Wind to get through it.

There is nothing quite like the sound of a propeller, which is positioned well under the boat, coming out of the water as a wave rolls past you. Except maybe the sound of the cooling water intake coming out of the water and sucking air for a second or two.

This is when the skipper starts pleading with the Yanmar to stay alive. “I know you need seawater to live, but please don’t die, dude.”

The worst and only actual moment of fear came just a half mile before we were out of the Rip: a breaking wave (how waves break in 300 feet of water I’ll never fully comprehend) caught us right under the port stern quarter, lifting the stern up and rolling us to about 40 degrees, which puts the leeward rail in the water. No problem. But when a smaller wave came at us from the other side and grabbed that leeward rail and spun us over another 10 degrees, I was pretty sure I had finally found the combination of events that could capsize the ‘Hood.

Hey Cap’n Ron, remember that conversation we had the other night about cockpit scuppers being able to drain fast enough? Turns out mine work ok.

By the time we passed Partridge Bank the water completely smooth out and the wind built to 15 knots. We beam reached toward Lopez in a building sea (but a normal one) and when we found opposing current coming out of Rosario Strait, we pointed up and opted for Cattle Pass and San Juan Channel instead.

Tucked in now at Rosario for a few nights. Kids in the pool, Mac and Jacks on tap, massage appointments already booked for the Admiral, and some trail running planned for me.

Damage report: ouch. The forward bulkhead broke loose of its tabbing and is now rubbing against the hull. Something in the steering quadrant is either broken or loose, which will require me to take apart the entire aft cabin today in order to inspect it.

Oh, and one of my favorite pair of Julbo sunglasses took the big swim.

And the vent on the holding tank is clogged. Yummy.

That is all for now.