A few months ago, a local scout troop approached our sailing association with the desire to have a sailing camp at some point during the summer. After a few meetings toward the end of spring, we'd settled on dates and outlined a program. I gathered volunteers for the sailing portion of the event, prepared testing material, reeducated myself on much of the material, and prepared my boat for a week of sailing. Wednesday afternoon, I scooted out of work early to make my way to Chief Timothy State Park for the start of the adventure.
I arrived and set up my vessel, then waited out the front that was blowing over. Gusts up to 31 knots with winds in the 20’s, my excitement level plummeted with the barometer. I spent the night in the boat on the trailer, luckily protected from the gusts within the tree perimeter that surrounded the parking lot. The following morning, gusts resumed between 2-3 am and my partner boat, after half a sleepless night on the dock, chose to pack up and head home. The weather didn't look like it would let up, so I decided to stay on the trailer. We went over more book-work and I ended up taking a brief nap in White Raven’s cabin. Mid-afternoon, after maybe an hour’s nap, I woke to a quieter world. The winds had settled to a consistent breeze and I decided that it would be a good time to bring the boys out. I played with the motor on the dock for a good 10 mins before I got her to idle (one reason I’ve still not posted about my outboard rebuild), and we cruised out into head winds. The sails were up and the cruising was good. Keeping 3 boys at a time on deck, explaining steering and sheet control, I was able to aid them in learning the basics, though with the gusts, I ran the tiller the whole trip. After a few hours, we dropped sail and motored in, just long enough to make it half way. All of a sudden the motor puffed out, after which there was no recovering. We paddled for a bit, but as the breeze picked up we had to fall off to escape the lee shore. Raising sail again, we were able to make it back before the wind died off. The last 150 feet went very slowly, so I left the main up, and right as we approached the dock, about 25-50 feet off, the wind gusted up and we had to ground between the two empty launch docks. Luckily, no damage was done, but I was a little discouraged at my last-second failing.
Friday came around and though still gusty, the weather had calmed. With the only visible window open, we left for Nisqually John in 10-12 knots of wind gusting to 20 knots. Dead on the nose again, I was a bit uncomfortable tacking out into the channel with such a narrow thoroughfare. In the middle of our third tack, a hundred or so feet from the shore, we grounded in the mud. Uncomfortably, we raised keel (thank goodness for cast iron swing keels) just enough to free ourselves and fall off onto the other tack. We sailed close-hauled for a good 5 minutes with a loose main until my crew was able to re-bolt the keel in place. After that, the day looked up. Tacking up the channel, we made good progress and time while my crew handled the jib sheets with no less than a five minute break between tacks. As we neared the second bend, our wind died and shifted for a good 10 minutes. Not only was I able to tack, run, then jibe, but I was able to perform them all without need to change course. After passing the cliff face, a decent breeze picked up again and we continued toward our layover for the day. As we closed in, the other boats, having arrived a good 30 mins earlier, were playing in the gusts. My crew opened fire as we came alongside with our water guns and started a fun feud that would boil over into the next day. After getting a bit wet, we turned to dock to prepare a late lunch for everyone. At a little over two hours, we had made it the 5 miles (though about 7 miles with tacking) from Chief Timothy to Nisqually John. I was exhausted, but extremely satisfied with my success for the day. I couldn't have asked for a better sail.
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| Everyone preparing to launch. |
Saturday arrived with winds contrary to the forecast, but “light to calm” was sure to take over before long. The boys packed up early and we were ready to depart on time, 8:00 am sharp. After a final walk through, I raised sail, raised keel, and gave the boat a good long push the whole length of the dock, jumping on as White Raven pulled away. The boys loosed oars and we carried out to the channel. Once the threat of grounding was gone, we dropped keel and tightened sail to head for home. The Queen of the West passed us close by as we made our first pass across the river. We weren't lucky enough to have a following breeze, but who hasn't spent two days dreaming of tacking every handful of minutes? As we passed near the region of the river where the cycling breeze had left me confused the day before, I heard an odd sound coming from the cabin. I quickly tacked away, but it was too late; we had bottomed out on the edge of a mud bank. What upset me the most was the fact that we were a good 300 feet from shore, nearly a quarter of the way across the river, but alas these are things suffered on a dammed river. I sent the hands forward and slid as far forward as possible while still steering. Luckily, it was enough. We broke free with the next slight increase in breeze. As we came to the bay where Chief Timothy lies, I noticed my fellow sailors shifted course and were returning with a malicious intent. Upon catching us, those scallywags loosed watery broadsides with buckets and cannons! Our previous day’s ambush was avenged. Our water battle lasted a good twenty minutes before the other vessels returned to port in the faltering breeze, but we were forced to resorted to paddle sailing for the next hour. The calm had finally set it.
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| Our epic water battle. |