Coordinates: 48° 23' 19.3704'' N122° 29' 46.59'' W, 39° 19' 3.5184'' N111° 4' 55.9812'' W
The right-of-way goes to the vessel with the least competent crew.
-Mike Baiocchi
Boat show, boat shopping, boat prepping all led to the momentous morning: our first blue-water sailing lesson! Even though we’re a ways down the river from that now, it is still a milestone worth remembering as we grow closer to sailing North.
The morning after Part 1 was overcast and moody, threatening (and eventually delivering) rain. We were ready and waiting that morning, yet I hesitate to say excited. This was serious--if enjoyable--business, and we were determined to make the most of every moment we had to learn.
The start, as well as the whole experience, was very promising. Captain Mark came aboard bright and early. We all sat in the salon and got acquainted over blueberry muffins and potato chips, and things got chummy quickly. The good captain sailed long before he thought of doing it for a living, and even tried his hand at taxi driving (and greatly enjoyed it, apparently). Still, we are very glad he decided to change his pace, and he soon taught us there's much, much more to sailing than the sails. Observe:
Tip #1 Any sailing day starts with checking out the engine. Captain Mark was emphatic that every day when you head out, there are certain things in the engine that must be checked. And don't forget to unplug your power from the dock. Reasons obvious.
As for the shoving off, lets just say there was an unexpected and very swift current directly behind the boat--and some subsequent, hasty problems. But there's not a scratch on our sturdy Ms. Star, and soon we were chugging down Swinomish Channel on our way to Padilla Bay for our very first blue-water sailing lesson.
Tip #2 There's a great, GREAT deal of motoring in sailing. Especially in skinny places like Swinomish Channel. So its good practice when you first take hold of the wooden, lovely wheel to learn quickly, and get used to the thudding of the engine under the boards.
Tip #3 When passing under a bridge, try not to pass out when it looks like you're going to snap off your sixty-foot mast. According to Captain Mark, we cleared it by a good fifteen feet. Which wasn't as comforting as it should have been.
Blogger has limited video size, so the video of us going under the bridge is here. Prepare for some stomach churning:
Tip #4 Watch the buoys, not the GPS. GPS's may chart a course, but they don't see logs or other boats or rocks the GPS forgot to mention.
Actually, sailing is pretty nerve-wracking for a newbie (I assume it gets easier). Captain Mark was apt to say, "In a perfect world..." But always he followed with something that wasn't quite perfect. Because driving a 42 foot sailboat is like trying to drive a school bus on ice (another Captain Mark quote). The tiniest correction has to be gauged, because give it some time and old Ms. Star WILL turn--sometimes much more than you want, and surprisingly tightly.
But it is splendid to feel that entire ship turn when you move the wheel four inches--and to see the sails pull tight and catch the wind. And when Mark had me turn the wheel as far as it could go, and spin like a top in the water (not as fast, but very tight) I couldn't quite believe how responsive she was.
Dad, physics teacher he is, proved unusually apt at docking in what Mark called difficult/advanced conditions with wind and rain pushing against us broadside. Jack grew just as adept at jumping off and tying the boat off, because with a ship as large as the Star (relatively large, anyway) you can't dock a thing without having a crew to tie her off and handle buoys.
Not gonna lie though. When Captain Mark advised First-Mate Mom to aim for those steel refineries on the coast, she had to remark later, "That's why I want to go to Alaska. Where I'm not going to even see a refinery."
Sailing back to Le Conner Marina, Mom and I went belowdecks and took a nap, and I'm telling you, there is no sleep quite like sleeping on a sailboat going through some slight swells. In the best way. I'm looking forward to more just like it.
Long and short, Jack and I went home after that, leaving Mom and Dad to try and tie up the loose ends. Yet there were many more loose ends than we thought. Remember that radioactive transmission back in March? The troublesome thing still isn't fixed--two months later. And I'll just say the initial cost estimate (and availability of boat-transmission-repair people) was a bit...optimistic. Though the Captain has always been more than aware of all the countless details that needed done, and has therefore been very understandably stressed. Enter Quartermaster Jason, who flew from Utah to stay on the boat with the captain, climbing the mast six times and proving he's worth his salt time and time again. Trips to Lowes, conservative estimate: 20 (correct me if I’m wrong), once for a single washer. Now that’s dedication.
Since then Stewardess April has also spent time on the ship—and thought it was mucho weirdo at first, like the rest of us, until the rocking and creaking settled into your bones.
In Part 1, the feelings of the others on the boat weren't much discussed. As for Boat-Swain Jack, I know he enjoyed it, but he had the V-Berth and used it as a sort of lair that he retreated to at night like a lovable, nocturnal vole. So many of his unspoken, yet doubtless wise, observations can only be guessed at by me, and hopefully illuminated by Jack himself in the comments. Any of the rest of the crew (including April and Jason, who since have been aboard the Star) feel free to share your feelings. Hint, hint.
Now, this is all Skipper Krystal can really add to the log from the past. The present is another story. Tomorrow we’ll be picking up the letters for the Northern Star, and the Captain and First Mate are preparing to leave on Sunday to get the vessel outfitted for our trip north.
Like any good voyage, there is more to come. Hold onto your halyards.
Skipper Krystal
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