2003 to 2005 saw the coming and goings of three wonderful boats in our lives.  Each brought us further down the road of becoming increasingly competent in sailing and restoration of boats.  For the sake of sanity and relative succinctness I will focus on only a few memorable events.  Trust me…there are many more tales of fortune and fame (misfortune and infamy?).  I believe that for a brief period I owned all four at once (remember that I have never sold Abbuca).  When I began to be introduced as Commodore Lippert at the dock I knew it was time to thin the fleet.  But for now lets look at Patron.

Our first acquisition was a 1971 Coronado 27 named Patron.  This was a real step up in the World for us as she had a head and places for the whole family to sleep.  For the first time we were able to really go on family outings and enjoy sailing together. 

Patron had been lived aboard for some time and had an odd odor that I just couldn’t put my finger on.  No matter how hard we tried to find the source of the smell and no matter how many different types of cleaning supplies we used, something always seemed to offend the olfactory sense.  For that reason Patron gained the nickname Stinky Boat by Sienna, my oldest daughter.  We would later learn about the source of the smell and other unfortunate aspects of the soft holding tank and old hoses that plumbed our head. 

Sailing Patron was fun.  We took her many places over the summer expanding our cruising from Filucy Bay to Gig Harbor, Olympia, and points beyond.  We always carried as much sail as possible and became quite adept at reefing the main and changing headsails.  The outboard was cranky from time to time, which was annoying, but not a major concern as we primarily sailed.  I generally liked to go out when Sandy was out on his Cal.  We enjoyed chatting on the VHF (always on a free channel, never 16) and we both enjoyed sharpening our sailing skills.  As Sandy took trips to McMicken or to Blake Islands I often tagged along as it was very comforting to have “sternlight navigation” as a backup to my own novice navigation skills.  Although I did keep a handheld GPS chartplotter on board, I forced myself to improve my dead reckoning and compass skills.  I loved (and still do) taking sightings from landmarks noted on the charts and triangulating my position.  I believe that this skill is becoming increasingly lacking in sailing today, which is unfortunate.

In July two WONDERFUL things developed.  One was that I had accrued enough time to take a couple weeks off.  The other was that Gretchen’s ONE week of time off meant we would be able to take our first trip to the San Juans!  I was so excited!  Patron had all the charts on board needed for the trip compliments of her former owner, so we began planning immediately.  Time flew by and before I knew it, departure day was just around the corner.  During the last week of July a not-so-wonderful thing also developed.  The old 9hp sailmaster finally quit.  I could have been worse but not much.  We now had everything we needed for a great trip to a great destination except the motor to help get us there.  While Gretchen and I discussed our options we came to the realization that our trip was in jeopardy as we simply did not have enough money for a new outboard or time to rebuild the old one.  We did however have a 3hp shortshaft.  Our little Suzuki that we used for our dinghy was reliable, but would it work?  The prop didn’t even reach the water from the transom of Patron but we DID have enough money and time to install an adjustable outboard bracket.  With only 2 days till departure we made up our minds and quickly installed the bracket and tried out our “new” motor.  Success! We could do 2.5 kts under engine power.  We decided that was enough…besides, we were sailors after all!  The outboard was only for getting in and out of the bays, right? 

The plan was for me to meet Gretchen and the girls in Port Townsend since I had more time off.  So the first 3 days was spent solo on board.  It should have been two days, but two and a half knots is pretty darn slow when the wind goes away   Pulling into the marina to meet my crew having single handed my way 75 nautical miles up the sound, though, gave me a great sense of accomplishment and was well worth the long hours and countless re-fillings of the half gallon (onboard) tank which involved hanging over the stern of the boat.

With my full crew it was time to cross the “big water” Strait of Juan de Fuca.  We were prepared for howling winds, dense fog, steep choppy seas, and all sorts of giant sea monsters.  What we got was 90 degrees, no wind, and a 2 and a half knot all day motor.  About 20 mintes after this picture was taken I decided I had had enough of the heat.  Time to go for a swim!  The Strait of Juan de Fuca is a perfect place for a swim, right?  I had my first “almost” heart attack approximately the instant my body hit the water.  While the swimladder had 4 steps on it, I only needed one to launch myself almost as quickly out of the water as I had dove in.  I was officially cooled off.  While on our way to San Juan Island, we carefully oriented ourselves to the navigational aids around us and completed various other tasks.  The tiller pilot did most of the work and the solar panel was putting in more electrons that we were using.  Life was good!  We also had the currents on our side and soon enough we were approaching Cattle Pass.

Our first days in the San Juans were phenomenal!  We sailed all over looking for Orca, visited Friday Harbor on a Thursday (which really confused Sienna) and finally reached what is still one of my favorite places in the World, Stuart Island.  We spent a couple days there and were able to go swimming, exploring, and kite flying on Cemetery Island.  Don’t let the name fool you; it’s a cool place to hang out! 

It was during this time that I also learned about the wonders of the Y-valve and the many ways it can make your life miserable.  Did you know that using too much toilet paper can clog a Y-valve and that pumping harder can cause a backflow, and that the backflow can squirt right in your face?  Well, that is what I learned after one of the little ones (name omitted for their sake) used the head. 

After a glass of straight rum (to sanitize my mouth), I began to look into the mess.  After donning a pair of yellow goves, I started at the head and worked my way back.  When I finally got to the Y-valve, I was good and wet/messy.  Taking off the first hose clamp, I swore like a madmad at the FPO (F@#$ Previous Owner) who had decided NOT to use stainless hose clamps.  The screwdriver (that was all sorts of stinky and wet) slipped and gashed my hand real good.  My older daughter informed me that I had a ”red drippy owee”, our code for needing first aid.  As I looked at the blood coming from my hand and at what was in the old hose, a wave of nausea washed over me.  I immediately flushed the wound with rubbing alcohol and applied darn near a tube of triple antibiotic before wrapping my hand in 20 feet of bandage and donning new gloves.  Finally unclogging the Y-valve, I had my first real whiff of what the ENTIRE holding tank smelled like.  It was a much stronger version of our “mystery odor.”  While drinking a few cold beverages, I discussed my learnings with Gretchen and we made a note to replace the holding tank with a solid one.  This was the first time I considered hiring someone else to work on one of our boats…

Our first trip was a success!  We saw orcas, sunsets, crab, etc…etc…the whole shebang, but it was time to return to the “real” world, so we began our journey home.  Being without our good outboard meant that we really had to watch the tides and currents.  It also meant that we had to sail whenever possible.  We enjoyed a phenomenal spinnaker run down San Juan channel until we spotted a 55 gallon drum barely above the water, bobbing in the current-induced waves.  We decided to radio in the barrel as a hazard and spent the next hour or so babysitting it until the Coast Guard told us that they would take care of it.  We really didn’t want any boat to hit a heavy barrel and felt wonderful providing a service to mariners!  The delay did put us a little off our schedule though, and it was dark by the time we reached Griffin Bay, our intended overnight anchorage.  To be honest, I was looking for a little more adventure and “all the rocks” in the bay combined with darkness was just the excuse I was looking for.  Gretchen and I weighed our options and decided to make the trip a real adventure.  We were going to cross the Strait overnight and head for Port Townsend! 

We set up watches and took turns navigating our way through the eastern Strait using the light on Smith Island, Hein Bank Light, Point Partridge light, Partridge Bank Light, and finally the Point Wilson lighthouse.  The sense of accomplishment was AMAZING.  We were on top of the World.  We rounded Point Wilson and headed for Port Townsend.  It was 0200 and the tide was running strong to the North.  It was here after all that accomplishment, after all that success, after all that…..stuff, that we would learn our next valuable lesson.  You see, we mistook a light on shore for a light across the bay to Marrowstone Island.  We basically drove our boat straight onto land.   Gretchen was at the helm and shouted “Dylan you better get up here!”  As I leaped on deck and took the helm I looked overboard in the moonlight and saw it….beach pebbles.  At that very instant I heard the keel dig a trench in the beach and felt Patron grind to an unceremonious halt.  There are no pictures of the night as we were busy at the time….sorry.

I was ready for this!  We first heeled the boat to port…then starboard.  No luck.  Next we hung Gretchen out on the boom until her butt got wet (she really is a saint!).  Still stuck.  I attached the anchor to the masthead and tied every single bit of line I had on the boat, rowed the anchor 500 feet away and tried to kedge from the masthead….lots of heeling but still stuck.  By this time the tide had gone out enough that I knew I was there for a good long while.  Gretchen was crushed and was certain it was all her fault.  I could have blown up.  I could have blamed her.  I could have confirmed my role ai the worst captain, husband, father in the World, but thanks to the influence of Gretchen and all that she has taught me, I instead acted appropriately.  I apologized for my role in running aground.  I told her that she had done a great job, and gave her a hug and kiss that she definitely deserved.  I feel that in that moment I became what I had always wanted to be…a good captain.  It really was my fault but I didn’t feel that bad…there are, after all, two kinds of sailors;  those who have run aground and those that will.  I would have felt better at the time if we hadn’t turned up directly in front of the RV park and Point Hudson.  Would have been nice too if we hadn’t landed with the vent to the holding tank on the low side  

After taking the girls back to the car and floating off the next afternoon, I enjoyed a peaceful trip back to Filucy Bay.  I later learned that a good friend had seen me aground and that the whole marina had heard about the event.  Ironically enough, the only person that gave me a REAL hard time about it ran aground leaving his slip a few months later.  Only jerks make fun of misfortune on the seas and Karma is only a bitch if you deserve it!

Up next:  We get bit by the wooden boat bug in more ways than one…