29 Jun 85.
Underway: 0700. Set sail and under sail left PT for Friday Harbor.
Hung over skipper puked 0800, relieved by mate and went below and rested. By noon I felt fine. This was the aftermath of trying to drain a barrel of beer the night before. I believe we did manage to empty it.
1300: Fired up the Honda as the wind had dropped off to little or nothing.
1500: Fetched Friday Harbor.
We ate ice cream upon arrival.
We met a friend's ex husband and he showed us around and the house he built.
My mate's navigation skills are excellent but they should be. He's a licensed commercial pilot.
Friday Harbor is full of honeys
Beaucoup Canadian vessels
Sort of reminds me of Provincetown, MA with all the overpriced shops and little artsy craftsy stores. The place is mobbed with people coming out the wazoo.
San Juan Channel was a tide ripped place.
What's her face didn't show up on time so we left without her. Actually she very well may have arrived on time. We left early so as to be underway before she got there as she is a confirmed pothead and no matter what she's going to bring her dope with her.
Normally I would not have cared but we are crossing international lines and I don't want my boat impounded.
30 Jun 85
0750 the friend's ex husband woke us up. He showed us a house he built. He does excellent work. I like him.
1400 Left Friday Harbor headed to Bedwell Harbor in Canada on a beam reach.
While underway we swapped the jib blocks around and rerove the jib sheet. It's the way we want it now and we're in better shape than we were when we left PT. Friday Harbor was a pretty good port for the night.
We need a chunk of lead or iron as a skellet for the anchor rode but the friend's ex gave us a piece of cherry we can use as a tiller extension.
1830: Karen Lee has taken a Canadian motorboat in tow. We're headed to Bedwell Harbor to the customs office.
1930: Customs. We got a blast of shit about taking a Canadian boat in tow before we cleared customs and I politely shot back that according to International Law the Safety of life at sea over rode the rules he was following. He caved in and agreed.
1940: Karen Lee has been issued a cruising permit by the Canadian government. Number B-XXXXXX.
15 miles (?) to the good.
2100: Mate decided to stay aboard and I went ashore to make an ass of myself or something along these lines.
2345: Returned to a spit shined boat and a lit anchor light.
Log sketchy here. I think we anchored out for the evening, most likely to avoid dock fees. as there is a position here. There is also a note that we had arrived on the eve of the Canadian Fourth of July, Canada Day. Leave it to us to arrive at the party on time!
1 July, 85
0900: Left Bedwell Harbor.
2000 We beat out brains out against a NW wind. No wind. Some wind but not a steady wind. We anchored in Clam Bay that was some kind of a little nook between two islands. It looked like a high tide small boat passage.
Sketchy log note: Kuper is an Indian reserve and the scenery is gorgeous. Tomorrow? on to Nanaimo Harbor on Vancouver Island.
By the way, I am going to start sleeping in the starboard quarter berth so we can actually use the table for meals like civilized people.
I haven't worn shoes all day. Shoes-no shoes- what a wonderful feeling. I checked my feet in PT and saw my jungle rot acting up between my toes. A few days on the boat will sure help things. What is nice is the soles of my feet are pretty clean.
Tonight's dinner: Tristan Jones Special. Canned corned beef and spuds. Bland. We forgot the ketchup.
I wish we had a gun and seasonings like we did on the XXXXXX (a boat i fished commercially on)
The three gallon gas tank finally ran out. Gas is running us about $1.25/day figuring we used a gallon a day. If some good wind would come up we'd be in great shape. We set anchor under sail---sailed up to the anchorage, luffed and dropped the hook. We looked great.
I wish I could score a job doing something. Zero cash is a drag. It's a good thing the Canadians didn't ask to see how much cash we had or we'd have been refused entry.
Canada day was great. As I said earlier, leave it to us to hit the Canadian Fourth of July.
You know, there are about 10 million little things that make a sailor. Not all of them what you would think. This came to me as I was trimming the wick on the anchor light. I have to become a man of many talents. Who else but a cruising sailor uses a kerosene dioptic lens anchor light?
24 miles to the good.
2 July, 85.
0700:
Little John's surprise for breakfast. It's salt cod, spuds, onions and crumbled bacon mashed together. It's good. As I write this it reminds me I have not had that in decades. Maybe I'll make some soon.
1000: underway. Left Clam Bay.
1330: Fetched Nanaimo. Groceried up, fueled, each had an ice cream cone and the mate bought ice for some reason I do not remember. We're going to go somewhere else. Sailors have more fun.
1730 Left Nanaimo. A shame. I was running around shopping and found the people friendly and the woman pretty. The whole town was in a good mood. I really wanted to go and meet the locals and see the sights.
2000 We are tied up to a Canadian Navy buoy of some sort for the evening off of Winchelsea Island. Some sailor said it would be OK if we did this so long as we hung an anchor light so whomever could keep an eye on us.
We have trolled the past 2.5 hours and the Honda acted a little funky at an idle. We twiddled with it. The charger says 12.5 volts which is good. The charger built into the Honda is great!
The scenery is breathtaking. I love it. The only bummer is we motored today. Motored in a sail boat. Not a bit of wind.
Nanaimo was great. I'd love to stay a few days. Partly because of pretty girls. Part of it was the scenery and part of it was just why the hell not! God, I wish I had a year to make this trip!
Canadian cookies. Oreos taste the same but here they don't come in a cellophane pack. You don't have to devour the whole pack because they are resealable. The again. the little clip really doesn't work worth a shit so they might just as well used a cellophane bag.
Oh yeah! We shot through the Dodd Narrows and it scared the hell out of us. For a full minute and a half I had no control whatsoever of the boat. All I could do was try and make an effective response. I'm OK so I musta done good, huh?
25 miles.
Later back in Kodiak a few months later I was told I was lucky I didn't get shot for tying up at Winchelsea. He said it was some kind of ubersecret Canadian Navy thing and said that most likely I was covered all night by a machine gunner.
3 July, 85.
0845: Woke up and cut loose under sail as we were tied to a Navy buoy used to tie up a ship of some sort. It really wasn't a Kosher thing to do.
1500: Still under sail and have not fired up the iron jib. About 1230 the mate got the idea to run up the working jib in addition to the Genoa and we Mickey Moused it to take advantage of the following wind. The rig isn't in Chapmans but it worked pretty good.
This is a pretty good time to tell you that I had no experience sailing before we left Port Townsend. We were both learning along the way. I had a book that showed the various points of sail and we'd look at it when the wind shifted.
Speed? 4-4.5 knots. Wind speed? about 6 knots.
1830: fired up the iron jib abd continued to Tuxedna Island.
Note here. I can not find the island on Google which probably means I didn't spell it right in the log.
Little nook. up and down and sleep is gonna be easy. Went ashore, met some locals and had a beer with some on the beach.
Tuxedna is a little Kodiak.
30 miles.
4 July, 85. Hey, Mate! It's the ruddy yank Fourth of July!
0800. Up and about.
By the way we are navigating with the Marine Atlas and a chart of Vancouver Island. NOTE: If memory serves the afore mentioned atlas is kind of a comic book designed for trip planning and not serious navigation. Back then we did what we had to do.
Onward and upward! Underway.
1700: Pasting! We had seven bells of shit knocked out of us a few hours shy of Campbell River. God, it was funny! A career as a sailor can be yours at the Colombia School of reefing down mainsails! It was a Chinese fire drill.
Today we went through the Genoa, the working jib and even bent on the storm jib. We reefed down to the second reef.
Learned a lot. Spending the night in Campbell River. Seven bells of dog snot.
Broke spinnaker eye(fixed), bent whisker pole and thank God we had on harnesses.
Spent night in Campbell River.
43 miles
5 July,85.
A day of repairs (about a dozen minor ones)
Fixed tiller handle
Fixed spinnaker pole
Fixed hole on Genoa
Replaced screw in eye.
Sure had a hard time finding things on short notice in a faraway place.
Fixed spinnaker pole
Plug for outboard well installed
Jib halyard bungee installed.
I helped a pretty girl move her houseboat. She was an expat and I believe she was there as a former spouse of a Vietnam war draft dodger.
Log says we had pizza and beer for dinner. (If so, it's pretty damned likely she bought it because we were really scratching our asses financially. We were not quite broke but we were really counting our pennies)
Sailor's Nirvana.
PS Missed scoring a job by a couple of hours.
6 July 85
0500 Up. On to Seymour Narrows
2000 CQR'd anchor along W. Thurlow Island.
We had gone through the Seymour Narrows, a real treacherous piece of water. Back to the log.
I took a snooze today for a bit. Took advantage of the tides where we could and sailed our asses off for a total of 36 miles to the good.
We're in a mass of tidal riffs and all sorts of other good shit. The tide shifted on us and we found a couple of good eddies and we had to tack like an SOB
The Seymour Narrows was a letdown. It was like glass and we just meandered through, mainly under sail. I'm sure glad it wsn't the ruckus the Dodd Narrows was.
By the way, I'd like to rebatten the jib and move some rails around to stretch the leech of the jib tighter by changing the angle of pull back from an acute angle to about 45 degrees. Fifteen inch sliding rails would be great.
Dinner tonight is Tristan Jones (canned corned beef) chili and it's good, too.
We hit the Johnstone Strait at about the right time as far as the tides went. I think we'll have fair tides for the rest of the week.
Had we left a week earlier we'd have clawed and fought the entire way and made maybe a quarter of the distance. Also we ought to add battens to the working jib.
I cut the reefing lines and boom vang lines and halyards to a more reasonable length and whipped the ends. I marked the reef points on the mainsail halyard. These are little things that might save our asses later.
21 days in PT was plenty. Campbell River was a nice visit and leave it to us to us to et moored next to the (name hidden), a salmon troller crewed by a 14.5 year old boy, two women and three dogs.
Thank God they were simply hard working fisherman instead of weird feminists.
We also met XXXXX, a gal divorced a year ago with 2 kids. They were a trip. She built a nice houseboat. What a pretty, sweet woman she is. She was born in the States and moved here and became a landed immigrant at 18 back in '73.
Margot (one of the salmon troller women, not her real name) called her country a sattelite of the US. While we were eating a Shakey's pizza, drinking a coke and watching MTV I had to agree. It's a shame and all but when I come to Canada I want to see Canada and not northern Detroit ot Northern Seattle or whatever. I want to see CANADA.
What a flavor this place had back in '70! (I visited Ontario then)
I'd have loved to see it in '55! The British Isles and Canadian flavor. Margot attributes thus to all kinds of shit-people being too comfy, laziness, the USA being too greedy etc. Not much (Canadian) national pride.
By the way, there's another thing bugging the piss out of me. For the past two days we tried to find the Campbell River warfinger. We couldne't screw around any longer as we had made our repairs and had to go on to catch the Seymour Narrows tide.
We left our address with Margot and so they can bill us for our slip and I hope she squares things away. She said she'd call the Port McNeill warfinger so they could collect our money there.(at McNeill)
I sure hope so because I am not looking to be boarddby the RCMP unless it's by Sgt Preston personally and King better not shit on my deck!
I guess all the floats are federal so it's no biggie unless it's a major paperwork shuffle.
Still, things don't sit good. I like to pay my bills
I wish I had done this years ago.
Tuesday, September 3, 2019
Watch this space.
It will likely be a very, very long post and it won't happen overnight.
I recently found the logbooks of Karen Lee, my sailboat. They are very, very sketchy and it has been decades since I have seen them much less remember all of the details. I believe if I check charts I can rattle the details out of my moldering brain.
The first trip was between D-Day and mid September 1985, starting at Port Townsend and ending in Kodiak.
The second trip was between Kodiak in mid August,1986 and ended at Friday Harbor, Washington about Halloween.
As I sit here an awful lot of parts of both trips run through my mind and I can't seem to remember what happened on which trip but with the logs and charts I believe I can figure things out.
Kodiak. Early May, 1985.
I had purchased the boat in January if memory serves and took her from Everett to Port Townsend and put her on the hard with several months storage paid for and returned to Kodiak to drum up a little scratch to be able to afford to take her to Kodiak.
Between working and scrounging I was able to drum up both cash and equipment from trades, good deals or friends giving me their cast-offs. One of the problems I saw was getting all of this stuff down to Seattle which looked to be expensive. Air Freight rates were terribly expensive.
Through the friend of a friend of a friend I was introduced to a young pretty Native girl who worked at the airport for I believe it was Alaska Airlines. She didn't drink very much so I believe we discussed things over either a cup of coffee or maybe lunch. I remember the conversation but not what we ate. I do recall she was pretty stocky and likely could move a safe if she wanted to.
She asked me what I had and I told her I had anchors, heavy chain, about 600 feet of anchor rode (rope) and pointed out that to save space the anchors could easily be disassembled. I also had to carry the usual clothing, a LORAN-C, a survival suit and God only knows what else.
I guess she was kind of excited to be involved in my voyage. A lot of fisherman were interested, too. This woman came from a fishing family so I guess she was interested, too.
She looked at me and simply said, "Green duffel bags. Carry the LORAN with you and put all of the stuff in green duffel bags. Break it up so they are not too heavy and then give me an idea of how many duffel bags you have. I'll figure something out."
"What will this cost?" I asked.
"Don't worry about it," she replied. "In fact, if you give me a ride to work I'll give you a bunch of green duffel bags. I don't know where they came from, probably from my brothers but they are taking up space in my closet."
I took her home to change into her work uniform and she was good to her word. She came out carrying what appeared to be a full duffel bag and threw it into my truck. "There are a bunch more in this one," she said.
I dropped her off and on the way back pulled over and looked at my new treasure. I now was the proud owner of six green duffel bags.
At that time 87% of all Alaskans traveled with none other than Army surplus green duffel bags. Practically every fisherman or logger carried his trash around in a green duffel bag and needless to say, the most commonly lost piece of airline luggage was the proverbial green duffel bag.
More than once I heard somebody claim that there was a humongous hanger full of lost luggage in Anchorage and it was kept in a hanger that was floor to ceiling chockablock full of green duffel bags.
The plan she and I came up with was that I would bring the duffel bags in with a few of my pals and they would hand them to her one by one and she'd put a tag on them and send them off into the airplane. I was to check in a couple of hours early and the guys could come in one by one and drop the bags off. I would finger them to her as they arrived.
I bought my ticket through a travel agent friend and she knew the score and got me a deal. The deal was actually a ride to Hawaii with a stop in Seattle. I would get off in Seattle and the fare was actually a lot cheaper than a direct Seattle flight. I never did figure out why.
On the appointed day in May I arrived at the airport with a few of the guys. They each carried a green duffel bag to the check in and it was taken by the young woman. A tag was put on it with my ticket number and she hefted it effortlessly and tossed it in the cart and it disappeared. They must have been damned close to 80 pounds apiece yet that little stock Native girl hefted them effortlessly.
I boarded carrying the LORAN-C and we took off and landed in Seattle where I disembarked. At Kodiak I had made arrangements to get off in Seattle with an open ended one way trip to Hawaii.
Upon landing I headed towards the luggage carousel and got there early enough to run outside and make a quick deal with a cabbie. I made several quick trips outside with the duffel bags and considered myself lucky that all of them had arrived intact.
The cabbie took me to the nearest car rental place and I unloaded there and gave him a hefty tip that he thought was more than fair.
Back then in order to rent a car you needed either a credit card or the airport would rent one if the person had a bona fide airline ticket for them to hold as a deposit. The ticket to Hawaii was accepted and I rented a small car, crammed all the stuff into it and took off to Port Townsend and my boat. I don't recall the hour I arrived but I recall it wasn't too late. The bars were still opened.
My first order of business was to return the rental car. It was somewhat expensive. I could have returned it somewhat locally but realized the redistribution fee was pretty hefty. It was cheaper to return it.
In the bar I ran into some more totally dumb luck. I ran into a woman that had business in Tacoma and had to pick up a car her parents had given her. If I drove her down she would give me a ride back. $hithouse luck struck again!
The following morning we left early for Tacoma and she proved to be pleasant company for the ride down. It was uneventful and when she got the car she followed me per our agreement to the airport where I turned in the rental and got my ticket to Hawaii back.
The ride back to Port Townsend proved to be miserable as she had failed to tell me her parents were riding back to PT with us. When we pulled up to where her parents were the first thing her mother did was take one look at me and ask her daughter "Who's this bum?" She was a nasty old broad.
The daughter replied that I was the gentleman that had taken a day out of his busy schedule to take her down to pick them up. The mother wasn't mollified. She proved to be a Class One bitch and the ride back was long and tension filled. Fortunately her father was halfway decent. There was also a brief stop along the way back to take care of some vehicle related paperwork. We arrived back in PT mid afternoon. I spent the rest of the afternoon locating showers, laundromats, and various shops and stores that proved to be useful. I also bought a few groceries.
The next morning was spent looking things over, making lists and plans and figuring out what I actually needed and didn't need. I started outside on the hull first and carefully checked out the sea cocks and determined they needed to be re-bedded and gone over. It proved to be a good decision because when I pulled one out it broke.
I bought a gently used replacement for a reasonable price and reinstalled it along with a check valve. It was the galley sink drain.
The inlet and outlet for the head were gone over, replaces and capped off from the inside. I also managed to score a pair of fairly clean 5 gallon buckets. One would be used to replace the unused head and the other I cut down to use on the trip as a galley sink. I then secured the galley sink sea cock. I also made a call to a local sail maker. I had contracted them to make me a new main and a storm jib. They offered to show up the following morning.
I poked around and sacked out on board and sure enough, they were there fairly early. They had both sails with them and fitted them. They fit but they said there was some touch-up work to do. They showed up the next morning with both sails ready to go. I stowed them for later use.
The next few days were a blur and I was pretty damned busy. I mounted and wired the LORAN, went over the electricals and the Honda auxiliary engine, a 9.9 hp outboard in a well. It got an oil change, a new plug, and a general going over.
Some unemployed semi homeless guy appeared out of nowhere and offered to scrape my hull if I'd pay him a very small amount and feed him. I agreed but planned on firing him if he screwed up. Instead he did an excellent job and I fed him a pretty good steak dinner in addition to his small wage.
I really couldn't afford to hire anyone but he needed something to do and feeding him was no real major expense. He had made himself affordable.
Incidentally I got a blast of crap because I paid him so little. I shot back that I was also feeding him and giving him a place to stay and get cleaned up. I was treated to a belligerent "Yeah, well..." and I pointed out it wasn't any of his business to begin with.
There was a pretty good greasy spoon that had decent breakfast specials and I generally ate there mornings. I became a non local local to the couple that ran the diner.
It was late in May when my crew of one showed and started in on things. He arrived full of excellent ideas and I simply handed him some cash and told him to make it happen. He spent it wisely on good marine hardware and he rigger the boom with cheek blocks and cleats so I would not have to leave the cockpit to reef the mainsail. It later probably saved my hide in a huge blow the following year.
One day he unbolted the grab rails and quietly drove off. He was gone the next day but returned the following day with new grab rails and first rate hardware and went to work installing them. They were well made out of good mahogany and were a lot stronger than the old ones.
While he was gone I slapped on a couple of coats of anti-fouling and had the harbormaster put her in the water. I also named her Karen Lee and her hailing port became Kodiak, AK.
Posting her hailing port of Kodiak proved to be a wise move. It opened a lot of doors for us along the way.
She floated well on her lines. I also grubbed her up with enough chow to last us several days. Money was running low so I grabbed a huge bag of rice and checked our fishing tackle. I recall I also snagged a bottle of scotch. I also smoked at the time so I grabbed a couple of big cans of Top roll-your-own. It used to be cheap at the time and a can lasted quite a long time if you didn't chain smoke.
In the evenings we drank a little beer and chased girls with varying degrees of success. Draft beer was pretty inexpensive and therefore affordable. By days we poked around here and there making things and fixing stuff.
About three or four days before we left we gave her a shakedown and discovered a problem with the outboard well and when we returned we scrounged some aluminum and an old inner tube and fixed that. It only cost us a few stainless steel machine screws and a pair of wing nuts in addition to a couple of bucks to have someone weld up the piece.
The greasy spoon people had offered to buy us breakfast on the day we left because we had been pretty good customers and had been in there as a pair of happy people. I was always happy working on an adventure.
If I am not mistaken the place opened at about five. We ate there, they wished us luck and we were on our way with a destination of Friday Harbor which was about 30 nautical miles away.
We cast off our lines, looked ahead and set sail for Friday Harbor and arrived mid afternoon. We called a mutual friend that lived there and he came to the dock and looked at our boat and he got pretty wide-eyed. He had figured it was going to be at least a 35 footer instead of the 24 foot, seven inch vessel she was. His attitude changed when he stepped aboard. She was a hell for stout fully capable ocean going vessel.
She was my ship to steer and I was now the captain of my destiny and held someone else's life in my hands. It was a serious responsibility and it didn't rest lightly on me.
This has been written by memory and it's reasonably accurate, considering that 1985 was almost 35 years ago. I have eliminated a little of the shananigans that took place. Actually we did spend most of our time nose to the grindstone but there were a couple of nights we raised a little hell.
Besides, my niece and nephew and their kids read this and I don't go there with them. There is nothing worse than being a parent and having to tell your kids that "Just because your Uncle Piccolo did it doesn't make it OK for you to do the same dumb thing!"
Even if YOU did the same dumb thing!
Update.
I have finally dug out the log and my memory was wrong about some dates. I actually arrived in Port Townsend on D-Day and left it on 21 June.
So much for a 30 something year old memory.
I'm not going to rewrite the above. Suffice to say it's reasonably accurate in what happened before we left.
I have gone over the log and it actually covers a lot of what happened in Port Townsend. There was a certain amount of drunken debauchery that took place there and I am not going to get into that.
After I am gone my nephew is welcome to read through the original.
I recently found the logbooks of Karen Lee, my sailboat. They are very, very sketchy and it has been decades since I have seen them much less remember all of the details. I believe if I check charts I can rattle the details out of my moldering brain.
The first trip was between D-Day and mid September 1985, starting at Port Townsend and ending in Kodiak.
The second trip was between Kodiak in mid August,1986 and ended at Friday Harbor, Washington about Halloween.
As I sit here an awful lot of parts of both trips run through my mind and I can't seem to remember what happened on which trip but with the logs and charts I believe I can figure things out.
Kodiak. Early May, 1985.
I had purchased the boat in January if memory serves and took her from Everett to Port Townsend and put her on the hard with several months storage paid for and returned to Kodiak to drum up a little scratch to be able to afford to take her to Kodiak.
Between working and scrounging I was able to drum up both cash and equipment from trades, good deals or friends giving me their cast-offs. One of the problems I saw was getting all of this stuff down to Seattle which looked to be expensive. Air Freight rates were terribly expensive.
Through the friend of a friend of a friend I was introduced to a young pretty Native girl who worked at the airport for I believe it was Alaska Airlines. She didn't drink very much so I believe we discussed things over either a cup of coffee or maybe lunch. I remember the conversation but not what we ate. I do recall she was pretty stocky and likely could move a safe if she wanted to.
She asked me what I had and I told her I had anchors, heavy chain, about 600 feet of anchor rode (rope) and pointed out that to save space the anchors could easily be disassembled. I also had to carry the usual clothing, a LORAN-C, a survival suit and God only knows what else.
I guess she was kind of excited to be involved in my voyage. A lot of fisherman were interested, too. This woman came from a fishing family so I guess she was interested, too.
She looked at me and simply said, "Green duffel bags. Carry the LORAN with you and put all of the stuff in green duffel bags. Break it up so they are not too heavy and then give me an idea of how many duffel bags you have. I'll figure something out."
"What will this cost?" I asked.
"Don't worry about it," she replied. "In fact, if you give me a ride to work I'll give you a bunch of green duffel bags. I don't know where they came from, probably from my brothers but they are taking up space in my closet."
I took her home to change into her work uniform and she was good to her word. She came out carrying what appeared to be a full duffel bag and threw it into my truck. "There are a bunch more in this one," she said.
I dropped her off and on the way back pulled over and looked at my new treasure. I now was the proud owner of six green duffel bags.
At that time 87% of all Alaskans traveled with none other than Army surplus green duffel bags. Practically every fisherman or logger carried his trash around in a green duffel bag and needless to say, the most commonly lost piece of airline luggage was the proverbial green duffel bag.
More than once I heard somebody claim that there was a humongous hanger full of lost luggage in Anchorage and it was kept in a hanger that was floor to ceiling chockablock full of green duffel bags.
The plan she and I came up with was that I would bring the duffel bags in with a few of my pals and they would hand them to her one by one and she'd put a tag on them and send them off into the airplane. I was to check in a couple of hours early and the guys could come in one by one and drop the bags off. I would finger them to her as they arrived.
I bought my ticket through a travel agent friend and she knew the score and got me a deal. The deal was actually a ride to Hawaii with a stop in Seattle. I would get off in Seattle and the fare was actually a lot cheaper than a direct Seattle flight. I never did figure out why.
On the appointed day in May I arrived at the airport with a few of the guys. They each carried a green duffel bag to the check in and it was taken by the young woman. A tag was put on it with my ticket number and she hefted it effortlessly and tossed it in the cart and it disappeared. They must have been damned close to 80 pounds apiece yet that little stock Native girl hefted them effortlessly.
I boarded carrying the LORAN-C and we took off and landed in Seattle where I disembarked. At Kodiak I had made arrangements to get off in Seattle with an open ended one way trip to Hawaii.
Upon landing I headed towards the luggage carousel and got there early enough to run outside and make a quick deal with a cabbie. I made several quick trips outside with the duffel bags and considered myself lucky that all of them had arrived intact.
The cabbie took me to the nearest car rental place and I unloaded there and gave him a hefty tip that he thought was more than fair.
Back then in order to rent a car you needed either a credit card or the airport would rent one if the person had a bona fide airline ticket for them to hold as a deposit. The ticket to Hawaii was accepted and I rented a small car, crammed all the stuff into it and took off to Port Townsend and my boat. I don't recall the hour I arrived but I recall it wasn't too late. The bars were still opened.
My first order of business was to return the rental car. It was somewhat expensive. I could have returned it somewhat locally but realized the redistribution fee was pretty hefty. It was cheaper to return it.
In the bar I ran into some more totally dumb luck. I ran into a woman that had business in Tacoma and had to pick up a car her parents had given her. If I drove her down she would give me a ride back. $hithouse luck struck again!
The following morning we left early for Tacoma and she proved to be pleasant company for the ride down. It was uneventful and when she got the car she followed me per our agreement to the airport where I turned in the rental and got my ticket to Hawaii back.
The ride back to Port Townsend proved to be miserable as she had failed to tell me her parents were riding back to PT with us. When we pulled up to where her parents were the first thing her mother did was take one look at me and ask her daughter "Who's this bum?" She was a nasty old broad.
The daughter replied that I was the gentleman that had taken a day out of his busy schedule to take her down to pick them up. The mother wasn't mollified. She proved to be a Class One bitch and the ride back was long and tension filled. Fortunately her father was halfway decent. There was also a brief stop along the way back to take care of some vehicle related paperwork. We arrived back in PT mid afternoon. I spent the rest of the afternoon locating showers, laundromats, and various shops and stores that proved to be useful. I also bought a few groceries.
The next morning was spent looking things over, making lists and plans and figuring out what I actually needed and didn't need. I started outside on the hull first and carefully checked out the sea cocks and determined they needed to be re-bedded and gone over. It proved to be a good decision because when I pulled one out it broke.
I bought a gently used replacement for a reasonable price and reinstalled it along with a check valve. It was the galley sink drain.
The inlet and outlet for the head were gone over, replaces and capped off from the inside. I also managed to score a pair of fairly clean 5 gallon buckets. One would be used to replace the unused head and the other I cut down to use on the trip as a galley sink. I then secured the galley sink sea cock. I also made a call to a local sail maker. I had contracted them to make me a new main and a storm jib. They offered to show up the following morning.
I poked around and sacked out on board and sure enough, they were there fairly early. They had both sails with them and fitted them. They fit but they said there was some touch-up work to do. They showed up the next morning with both sails ready to go. I stowed them for later use.
The next few days were a blur and I was pretty damned busy. I mounted and wired the LORAN, went over the electricals and the Honda auxiliary engine, a 9.9 hp outboard in a well. It got an oil change, a new plug, and a general going over.
Some unemployed semi homeless guy appeared out of nowhere and offered to scrape my hull if I'd pay him a very small amount and feed him. I agreed but planned on firing him if he screwed up. Instead he did an excellent job and I fed him a pretty good steak dinner in addition to his small wage.
I really couldn't afford to hire anyone but he needed something to do and feeding him was no real major expense. He had made himself affordable.
Incidentally I got a blast of crap because I paid him so little. I shot back that I was also feeding him and giving him a place to stay and get cleaned up. I was treated to a belligerent "Yeah, well..." and I pointed out it wasn't any of his business to begin with.
There was a pretty good greasy spoon that had decent breakfast specials and I generally ate there mornings. I became a non local local to the couple that ran the diner.
It was late in May when my crew of one showed and started in on things. He arrived full of excellent ideas and I simply handed him some cash and told him to make it happen. He spent it wisely on good marine hardware and he rigger the boom with cheek blocks and cleats so I would not have to leave the cockpit to reef the mainsail. It later probably saved my hide in a huge blow the following year.
One day he unbolted the grab rails and quietly drove off. He was gone the next day but returned the following day with new grab rails and first rate hardware and went to work installing them. They were well made out of good mahogany and were a lot stronger than the old ones.
While he was gone I slapped on a couple of coats of anti-fouling and had the harbormaster put her in the water. I also named her Karen Lee and her hailing port became Kodiak, AK.
Posting her hailing port of Kodiak proved to be a wise move. It opened a lot of doors for us along the way.
She floated well on her lines. I also grubbed her up with enough chow to last us several days. Money was running low so I grabbed a huge bag of rice and checked our fishing tackle. I recall I also snagged a bottle of scotch. I also smoked at the time so I grabbed a couple of big cans of Top roll-your-own. It used to be cheap at the time and a can lasted quite a long time if you didn't chain smoke.
In the evenings we drank a little beer and chased girls with varying degrees of success. Draft beer was pretty inexpensive and therefore affordable. By days we poked around here and there making things and fixing stuff.
About three or four days before we left we gave her a shakedown and discovered a problem with the outboard well and when we returned we scrounged some aluminum and an old inner tube and fixed that. It only cost us a few stainless steel machine screws and a pair of wing nuts in addition to a couple of bucks to have someone weld up the piece.
The greasy spoon people had offered to buy us breakfast on the day we left because we had been pretty good customers and had been in there as a pair of happy people. I was always happy working on an adventure.
If I am not mistaken the place opened at about five. We ate there, they wished us luck and we were on our way with a destination of Friday Harbor which was about 30 nautical miles away.
We cast off our lines, looked ahead and set sail for Friday Harbor and arrived mid afternoon. We called a mutual friend that lived there and he came to the dock and looked at our boat and he got pretty wide-eyed. He had figured it was going to be at least a 35 footer instead of the 24 foot, seven inch vessel she was. His attitude changed when he stepped aboard. She was a hell for stout fully capable ocean going vessel.
She was my ship to steer and I was now the captain of my destiny and held someone else's life in my hands. It was a serious responsibility and it didn't rest lightly on me.
This has been written by memory and it's reasonably accurate, considering that 1985 was almost 35 years ago. I have eliminated a little of the shananigans that took place. Actually we did spend most of our time nose to the grindstone but there were a couple of nights we raised a little hell.
Besides, my niece and nephew and their kids read this and I don't go there with them. There is nothing worse than being a parent and having to tell your kids that "Just because your Uncle Piccolo did it doesn't make it OK for you to do the same dumb thing!"
Even if YOU did the same dumb thing!
Update.
I have finally dug out the log and my memory was wrong about some dates. I actually arrived in Port Townsend on D-Day and left it on 21 June.
So much for a 30 something year old memory.
I'm not going to rewrite the above. Suffice to say it's reasonably accurate in what happened before we left.
I have gone over the log and it actually covers a lot of what happened in Port Townsend. There was a certain amount of drunken debauchery that took place there and I am not going to get into that.
After I am gone my nephew is welcome to read through the original.
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