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.