Schedule Now for your American Boating 101 course a two-day powerboat training course beginning with a classroom session and a weekend on a Nimbus 305C!
American Boating 101 will equip you with the necessary skills to operate a 25-35 foot powerboat. You will gain comprehensive training including the following:
Terminology, Boats Parts, Knots, Rules of the Road, Navigation, Seamanship and Maneuvering in tight quarters, docking. You will learn prudent, safe and fun approaches to enjoying this new lifestyle.
$695.00 includes textbook and certification
AS 102 Keelboat 2- Fine tune your Sailing Skills course! Sail forwards and backwards. Know your boat inside and out! Racing next! $495.00. Call to schedule.
Running Rigging
Trusted lines for sheets, halyards, and control applications
Start the season with running rigging you can trust. From halyards to sheets, Samson ropes are built for performance, durability, and minimal stretch. Inspecting and replacing aging rigging is critical for safe, confident sailing. Samson’s high-quality lines offer the strength and reliability required by serious boaters— from offshore racers to long-distance cruisers. Options include WarpSpeed 3 SD, with ultra-low stretch and SamsonDry® coating for offshore use; AmSteel®-Blue, a lightweight Dyneema® line built for high-load halyards and tacks; MLX3, a versatile, strippable line ideal for performance cruising and club racing; and Validator-12, a 100% Vectran® control line offering no-creep precision.
A Journey to Princess Louisa
Navigating rapids and family dynamics on the way to PNW paradise.
36 A Tale of Two Cruises
Spicy and sweet Salish Sea cruising on a power outrigger.
Ryan Samantha Carson
20 Close to the Water: Boat Ramp Champs
Understanding the unique people and process when launching. By
Bruce Bateau
22 Necessary or Nice: Radar
Considering the system that lets you "see" in low visibility.
By Julie and Gio Cappelli
26 Hikes for Boaters: More Gulf Islands
Great boat-accessed hikes for those cruising Canadian waters. By
Michael Boyd
RACING
42 SYC Tri-Island Protection and Vashon Island
Two-thirds of this big spring distance series is in the books. 44 STYC Race to The Straits
Northerlies, ebbs, and orcas—a report from Santa Cruz 27 Norn. 46 PNW Offshore Race: TC's First Ocean Race
The young Hobie 33 crew learned a ton and is excited for more.
ON THE COVER: Fouteen-year-old Kirin takes in the stunning panorama of Princess Louisa Inlet from the comfort of the hammock rigged on his family's chartered Beneteau 37, Allora (story on page 30). Photo by Joshua Davis.
Background photo courtesy of Kris Thompson.
Editor
TRUST THE TEAM, GO TO SLEEP
With several references in this issue, I’m finding renewed amazement in the commonplace decision to have some of the crew asleep when a boat is underway. Of course, I’ve been there myself plenty of times both racing and cruising—within the structure of a watch schedule, an impromptu on-deck snooze, collapsing onto a pile of sails in full foulies cradled by the comforting darkness of carbon fiber, and everything in between.
Going to sleep on a traveling boat has seldom seemed remarkable in my experience. I imagine that holds true for most mariners, until you really start thinking about it; or consider other endeavors of significant commitment, high level performance, and pure adventure when it’s either improbable or entirely impossible to imagine any member of the team sleeping while others continue the pursuit.
Such relinquishment of control, especially in an environment that is inherently inhospitable, is an exercise that epitomizes trust. Even when engaged in activities that toe the ragged edge of real danger—when you might hold the lives of your collaborators in your hands—a group tends to either be engaged in that activity as a whole, or not. I’m not aware of mountaineers sleeping while other team members climb, for example.
Even in settings where a vehicle makes sleep possible for a portion of a team while others journey on—such as a van supporting a relay team sharing a long endurance run, or a dogsled tandem in which one person mushes while the other sleeps in the sled— the prospect of stopping is always near at hand. For people sleeping underway on boats, particularly those in remote or offshore locations, that’s not true, at least not immediately. When off the dock on any vessel, in order to stop, to really stop, to get off the ride… you always have to keep moving before you can arrive at a genuine endpoint.
I don’t intend to intimidate, but rather to express admiration for the kind of trust that is necessarily developed and bestowed among those sharing waterborne adventures. When you hand off a watch to get some shut-eye, you’re not just going to sit on the bench and keep watching the game or heading to bed at home with a “see you tomorrow.” You are turning off your consciousness while still in process, leaving all facets of the undertaking to the rest of your team. And in a few hours, you’ll return the favor. For those on passage, that’s the rhythm over and over and over again. One can understand how, soon enough, it doesn’t appear exceptional. But it is.
Many marine mammals with whom we share the water employ unihemispheric sleep, meaning half their brain sleeps while the other maintains enough consciousness to continue low levels of movement and retain some awareness of their surroundings. That’s how much of a team activity boating can be—a crew on a long voyage or race is a single unit, like an orca's brain, divided into active and inactive component parts, but those components are themselves also whole. Pretty wild.
48º North
Volume XLIV, Number 11, June 2025 (206) 789-7350
info@48north.com | www.48north.com
Publisher Northwest Maritime
Managing Editor Joe Cline joe@48north.com
Editor Andy Cross andy@48north.com
Designer Rainier Powers rainier@48north.com
Advertising Sales Ryan Carson ryan@48north.com
Classifieds classads48@48north.com
48° North is published as a project of Northwest Maritime in Port Townsend, WA – a 501(c)3 non-profit organization whose mission is to engage and educate people of all generations in traditional and contemporary maritime life, in a spirit of adventure and discovery.
Northwest Maritime Center: 431 Water St, Port Townsend, WA 98368 (360) 385-3628
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We are not responsible for unsolicited materials. Articles express the author’s thoughts and may not reflect the opinions of the magazine. Reprinting in whole or part is expressly forbidden except by permission from the editor.
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I'll see you on the water,
To me, this is another testament that ours is the ultimate family activity. Families that race or cruise together are sharing something unique, a pastime that all members are involved in as one. Parent of young children that I am, the prospect of that kind of teamwork and trust is so exciting I am lost for words at the thought. Add to that everything else that boat-life offers— lasting memories, deep connection with the natural world, skills and resilience in equal measure, and an absolute boatload of fun—and it’s easy to appreciate why so many of us reorder our lives around the passion for it.
Joe Cline Managing Editor, 48° North
www.48north.com/subscribe for details.
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News from Northwest Maritime
NWM ESTATE PLANNING INVITATION
SEVENTY48 BEGINS JUNE 6 IN TACOMA
Now in its seventh running, SEVENTY48 continues to deliver for its racers and fans. What does it provide? Adventure afloat? Mmm hmm. Astonishing physical feats? Yup. Bone-chilling, sinew-straining challenge? Oh yeah. Inspiring tales of endurance, grit, and passion? You know it. Deeper connection with these extraordinary waters? And then some.
NWM's flagship human-powered event will bring 111 teams from Tacoma to Port Townsend (70 miles) in 48 hours or less, using paddles, oars, pedals, and everything in between. Follow the race from the comfort of your favorite screen, sign up to volunteer, or head to Tacoma's Foss Waterway for the Launch Party and the spectacle of the start. June 6. Be there!
» www.seventy48.com
WA360 RACE SETS OFF FROM PORT TOWNSEND BAY ON JUNE 28
WA360 makes a triumphant—and extremely well attended—return this month, in its new every-other position on R2AK off-years (R2AK comes back in 2026!). But this event is much more than just an R2AK alternative. The 91 teams who have accepted this 360-mile challenge are proof that this is the biggest adventure you can have in our own backyard.
Like its more insane big sibling, the WA360 coverage will come fast and furious and should support all levels of superfandom. Those with burgeoning fanaticism should come to Port Townsend for the prerace Breakfast of Champions and the big June 28 send-off. With 91 teams, it'll be a busy day on the bay and a sight to behold!
» www.wa360.org
TYSON TRUDEL NAMED MARITIME EDUCATOR OF THE YEAR BY SEATTLE PROPELLER CLUB
Captain Tyson Trudel was recently named Maritime Educator of the Year by the Seattle Propeller Club at the annual Maritime Day Breakfast, an event cosponsored by the Port of Seattle. Trudel serves as Northwest Maritime’s Maritime Education Manager at Maritime High School (MHS), and has played a foundational role in building the school from the ground up. This June, MHS will graduate its first-ever senior class, with more than 50% of those students projected to enter maritime
career pathways—a milestone that many credit directly to Trudel’s leadership, energy, consistency, and innovation.
Trudel brings a rare expertise to his role, blending deep maritime experience with a strong background in education and youth development. He holds master’s degrees in both education and in counseling as well as a Washington State teaching certificate with a special education endorsement. His maritime credentials include a 100ton USCG captain’s license, U.S. Sailing Instructor, and Marine Safety Instructor. » www.nwmaritme.org
48° North readers care about community, education, and maritime life, and know the importance of looking ahead. You also know that Northwest Maritime's tangible efforts and commitments toward such missions extend far beyond 48° North Just as spring is an opportunity to ready our boats for upcoming adventures, estate planning is a powerful way to renew one's values and ensure the people you cherish most are supported. NWM is partnering with a free resource called FreeWill to help you get started. In about 20 minutes, you can make or revise your will, no matter your life stage or circumstances.
If 48° North and/or Northwest Maritime have played a meaningful role in your life, you have the option to include a legacy gift that will provide opportunities for future generations of young mariners, lifelong learners, and everyone in between.
» www.freewill.com/nwmaritime
44’ Little Harbor
44’ Worldcruiser
50’ Solaris
42’ J/42
39’ Catalina
LETTERS 10
Response to Meredith Anderson’s Diesel Deep Dive Column in the May Issue
Dear 48° North,
That was a great article by Meridith Anderson about running your diesel hard. I am guilty of not running it hard, especially when I am gunkholing along looking at the shore or going slowly to view marine life. In transit I run the engine at 75-80% of wide open throttle, which is cruising speed. I also take 2030 minutes to warm up the engine, increasing the RPM about every 5 minutes, to go from idle to cruise. Should I go slow to get out of the marina and quickly increase RPM to cruise? How long should I sustain cruise speed until I can shut down and hoist sails?
Clyde Jenkins
Meredith’s Reponse:
Hi Joe and Clyde,
Model Shown Beta 38
to be
Beta Marine West (Distributor)
400 Harbor Dr, Sausalito, CA 94965 415-332-3507
Pacific Northwest Dealer Network
Emerald Marine Anacortes, WA • 360-293-4161 www.emeraldmarine.com
Oregon Marine Industries Portland, OR • 503-702-0123 info@betamarineoregon.com
Access Marine Seattle, WA • 206-819-2439 info@betamarineengines.com www.betamarineengines.com
Sea Marine Port Townsend, WA • 360-385-4000
info@betamarinepnw.com www.betamarinepnw.com
Deer Harbor Boatworks Deer Harbor, WA • 844-792-2382 customersupport@betamarinenw.com www.betamarinenw.com
Thanks for the questions! Warming up the engine for 30 minutes at idle is not necessary, and if you want to just make sure things are good at the dock, then run the engine at higher RPM while getting the boat ready. When leaving the marina, feel free to maneuver at a safe and reasonable speed, but once you are out on open water, it’s a good idea to slowly open things up for at least 20 minutes or so before putting sails up. During transits where there is no wind, then it's easy—run the engine at 80% like you already do. The idea is that you avoid excessive idling or slow speeds as much as possible, but during periods of maneuvering, maintenance, etc., it may be required and that is ok. With sailors, the struggle is that we putz our way out of the marina, put our sails up, and never actually run the engine hard to clear any carbon deposits. So if you are going sailing, make the effort and plan on motoring hard for a while prior to hoisting sail or on the way back in afterward to avoid the issues that come with strictly idling. Hope that makes sense!
Thanks,
Meredith
Headed Way Northwest
Editor’s Note: It’s going to be a busy summer in the Northwest Passage! We recently learned that, in addition to the One Ocean crew heading east through the Northwest Passage this summer after departing Anacortes last month (see the May issue of 48° North for more), another Pacific Northwest maritime icon— Sam Devlin—will be making the same passage in the opposite direction, ending in Anacortes. I reached out and got this response from Sam.
Hi Joe,
We have a dedicated website for our east-west trip leaving from Portland, Maine on July 8 across the top of the Americas, ultimately landing in Anacortes sometime in late September or early October: www.thepassage25.com. We hope to post daily during the trip and will also be doing some posting on Facebook and Instagram. I am going up tomorrow (May 3) to Anacortes to bid farewell to One Ocean and my friend Mike Beemer, who is a crew member on that boat, crossing west-east. I will keep you posted.
Best Regards, Sam Devlin
EMPTY TANK?
PROTECT OUR WATERS
Stop invasive species
CLEAN
• Boats
• Kayaks & SUPs
• Trailers
• Gear
DRAIN
• Boat
• Bilge
• Motor
• Live-wells
DRY
Fully before moving to a new lake, river, or waterway.
Invasive species such as quagga and zebra mussels threaten our outdoor recreation, economy, infrastructure, environment, and public health. Help stop the spread by cleaning, draining, and drying your gear, equipment, and watercraft every time you leave the water.
Report invasive European green crabs
Step 1: Identify
Step 2: Report
Learn more: dfw.wa.gov/ clean-drain-dry
Request this information in an alternative format or language at wdfw.wa.gov/accessibility/requestsaccommodation, 833-885-1012, TTY (711), or CivilRightsTeam@dfw.wa.gov.
If you find a suspected European green crab or their shell, photograph it, note the location, and report it.
wdfw.wa.gov/greencrab
The European green crab is a damaging invasive species that poses a threat to native shellfish and habitat for salmon and many other species. They are not always green and may be orange, red or yellow. These shore crabs are found in less than 25 feet of water often in estuaries, mudflats, and intertidal zones. They are not likely to be caught in deeper water, but may be encountered by beach anglers, waders, clam and oyster harvesters, or those crabbing off docks or piers in shallow areas. As a Prohibited species, it is illegal to possess or transport live European green crabs in Washington. Shellfish growers and private tidelands owners in areas with European green crabs should contact WDFW for management support or permits. Please email at ais@dfw.wa.gov.
Request this information in an alternative format or language at wdfw.wa.gov/accessibility/requests-accommodation, 833-885-1012, TTY (711), or CivilRightsTeam@dfw.wa.gov.
Photo by: Phong Dinhl
Carcinus maenas
low tides » News & Events
FREE MOBILE PUMP-OUT COMING TO WEST PUGET SOUND
A new free mobile pump-out boat has launched in West Puget Sound to serve recreational boaters during the summer cruising season. Mariners in West Puget Sound have a new and environmentally friendly way to pump-out waste, right where they are. The Recreational Boating Association of Washington (RBAW), in partnership with Washington State Parks and local jurisdictions, has launched a new mobile pump-out boat serving Liberty Bay, Port of Poulsbo, Eagle Harbor, Blake Island and Illahee State Marine Parks, Ft. Ward and select special events in Dyes and Sinclair Inlets.
This service—completely free to recreational boaters—is the next phase of a successful 2023 trial run and will operate for the next two years on weekends and holidays from May through September, with Friday service added
from June through August. The pumpout boat allows boaters to responsibly dispose of onboard waste without having to raise anchor or leave the guest dock and travel to a fixed disposal location— something particularly valuable in areas like Eagle Harbor and Blake Island, where no mobile options currently exist.
Boaters can schedule a pump-out in three easy ways: Online; by phone at (206) 225-7660; via VHF Channel 68; or wave down the pump-out vessel.
To add a bit of fun and community spirit, RBAW is also launching a public contest to name the new pump-out boat. Boaters can cast their vote at www. RBAW.org and choose between punny contenders such as: #2 Crew, Blackwater Baron, Pooey Lewis, PooGet Sound, Wastewater Whisperer, and more.
This initiative is part of RBAW’s ongoing
LAKE UNION SEAPLANE ADVISORY BUOYS REMIND BOATERS TO ‘MIND THE ZONE’
As of Memorial Day Weekend, it’s the time of year when Seaplane Advisory Buoys are once again put in place on Lake Union, asking boaters for the courtesy of awareness and accommodating seaplane traffic.
If you’ve been out on Lake Union on a beautiful summer’s day, you know what a recreational gem it is, but also just how busy it can be. In fact, usage on the lake has increased dramatically in recent years. In an effort to manage seaplane, boat, and other watercraft traffic during the busy summer months, the City of Seattle annually installs five seaplane advisory buoys that are in place from Memorial Day
through Labor Day. The buoys run in a north-south line on the lake and are visible day and night. When the buoys’ yellow lights are flashing, a seaplane is about to take off or land, and all lake users are asked to move 200 feet east or west of the buoy line. Yet many new (and even long-time) sailors, powerboaters, kayakers and paddleboarders are unaware of the purpose of the buoys.
Please be aware of the seaplane landing advisory zone and help spread the word to your fellow boaters!
» www.rbaw.org/mindthezone
commitment to preserving Washington’s waters for future generations and making recreational boating more accessible, responsible, and sustainable.
» www.NWmobilepumpout.com
ERICSON RENDEZVOUS SAILING INTO ANACORTES IN JULY
Ericson yacht owners of the Pacific Northwest will hold their annual Rendezvous this year at Cap Sante Marina in Anacortes on July 11-13. All current, past, and even potential Ericson owners who are interested in learning and sharing technical expertise, camaraderie, stories, or trying out new comedy routines are welcome. The group alternates hosting between west coast US and Canadian meeting sites. The two previous years, there were great events at Maple Bay Marina on Vancouver Island and Deer Harbor on Orcas Island. Activities often include blindfolded dinghy racing and nautical themed Jeopardy, as well as potlucks, participant boat tours, expert technical talks, and exploratory walks around town.
If you are interested and would like more information, please visit the site and search “Ericsons Northwest and BC” Forum for “PNW Ericson Rendezvous reservation info” thread.
You can also contact this year’s Rendezvous organizer at davidhg86@hotmail.com. In order to be located with our group, please make reservation arrangements in advance.
» www.ericsonyachts.org
low tides » Good Reads
SAILING TO THE HEART OF JAPAN: A CRUISING ADVENTURE AND HOW-TO GUIDE
By Nicholas Coghlan
Diplomat and long-distance cruiser who now makes his home on British Columbia's Salt Spring Island, Nicholas Coghlan had been curious about Japan ever since his father, a veteran of infantry fighting in Italy and Greece, confessed to him a dread of being sent to the Japanese front when the war in Europe ended in the Spring of 1945. Starting from New Zealand, Nicholas and his partner Jenny navigate Bosun Bird, their Vancouver 27, north through Pacific Island nations where memories of the war linger. They make their landfall on Kyushu, in southwestern Japan. Over a period of fifteen months, they venture to the remote and depopulated archipelago of Goto Retto in the East China Sea, through Kanmon Kaikyo narrows and into the island-scudded Inland Sea. “Sailing to the Heart of Japan” is a voyage of personal discovery as the author’s preconceptions are challenged. It’s also a unique account of one of the world’s least-known but most attractive cruising destinations.
For Pacific Northwest maritime history buffs, tugboats are a fond topic that have graced many harbors and lives throughout the years. Sand Man is one of those. For over a century, the Olympia harbor tugboat Sand Man has worked on Puget Sound waters. Built in Tacoma in 1910, Sand Man towed such commodities as sand, gravel, oysters, logs, and more to and from Budd Inlet. The tugboat was owned by three commercial companies and one private owner. In 1997, the Sand Man Foundation formed, took ownership, and placed Sand Man on multiple historic registries. Through fundraising efforts, the deteriorating Sand Man was miraculously saved and rebuilt after three sinkings. Over the years, the vessel participated in many Olympia Harbor Days activities and vintage tugboat races and was the festival’s first logo boat in 1983. Sand Man, a workhorse and survivor, is known as “Olympia’s Tugboat.” This is the story of Sand Man, the little tug that could and did.
INTO THE ICE: THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE, THE POLAR SUN, AND A 175-YEAR-OLD MYSTERY
By Mark Synnott
In 2022, climber and adventurer Mark Synnott realized there was a dream he’d yet to achieve: to sail the Northwest Passage in his own boat—a feat only four hundred or so sailors have ever accomplished—and in doing so, try to solve the mystery of what happened to legendary nineteenth-century explorer Sir John Franklin and his ships, HMS Erebus and Terror. In this pulsepounding travelogue, Synnott paints a vivid portrait of the Arctic, which is currently warming twice as fast as any other part of our planet. He weaves its history and people into the firstperson account of his epic journey through the Northwest Passage, searching for Franklin’s tomb along the way—all while trying to avoid a similar fate. In “Into the Ice,” Mark and his crew race against time and treacherous storms in search of answers to one of the greatest mysteries of all time.
Price: $33 Penguin Random House » www.penguinrandomhouse.com
low tides » Racing Updates
EYC’S “LIVE ON THE EDGE” MULTIHULL REGATTA
COMING JUNE 7-8
The 2025 edition of the Eugene Yacht Club’s “Live on the Edge” Multihull regatta is only weeks away! The regatta also serves as the 2025 Weta West Coast Championship and is incorporated in the 2025 Seaspray North American Championship, June 6-8. Fern Ridge reservoir is filled to the brim, so the “playground” is as large as it gets!
“Live on the Edge” usually has a one design fleet of Hobie 16s, and this year adds one design fleets for Weta and Seaspray for their class championships. There’s also the Larry Cox Division, a mixed fleet sailing under the Portsmouth handicap system.
» www.eugeneyachtclub.org/multihull
CYC SEATTLE UPDATES
The season is off to a great start for sailors participating in CYC Seattle racing events. As the year is taking shape, there are several developments of note that alter what was originally published in the SARC. They are as follows:
• Salish 200 is canceled for 2025, it was originally scheduled to run June 20-22.
• J/Fest, which was booked for mid-June is also canceled. In its place, CYC Seattle will host the J/70 Mixed+ National Championship Regatta, with racing June 13-15. This is a big, exciting event, likely to draw participants from outside the local area.
» www.cycseattle.org
INFORMAL DISTANCE RACE ON LAKE WASHINGTON
A fun, light-hearted event is being planned for late June on Lake Washington. The 13-mile distance race welcomes all boats at no charge on June 28, with a start at 11:00 a.m. It’ll be a rabbit-style start and you take your own time to win the huge prize of bragging rights. In the past, a variety of different types of boats have joined the fun, from dinghies to fast keelboats. The race takes sailors from Leschi to Sail Sand Point and back. There’s no registration, but the organizers ask you to reach out if you plan to participate. » jeffkendall.emi@gmail.com kenneth.johnson4@comcast.net
CROSSWORD AND TRIVIA
DID YOU KNOW?
by Bryan Henry
Some species of fish are short-lived, only living for eight months or less in the wild.
Swordfish can live for 25 years and grow to 1,200 pounds.
Skate, ray, and shark egg cases that wash ashore by waves are called mermaid’s purses.
The torpedo ray can generate electricity using specialized muscles in its head.
Cape of Storms was the original name given to the Cape of Good Hope by Portuguese explorer Bartholomew Diaz in 1488. The Cape of Good Hope was renamed by King John II of Portugal, who changed the name to encourage exploration of the area, much as the Vikings did in Greenland.
ACROSS
1 Measurement used in determining position
6 Catamaran, for short 8 Marine barometer 10 Measurements of depth 11 Place 12 Type of motor
13 Floating on ocean waters
15 Expected to arrive
17 Length of cable extended when a ship rides anchor
18 Observes
19 Health resort
20 Knowledgeable person who is qualified to navigate a vessel through difficult waters
24 Polaris- a celestial body that can be used to navigate, 2 words
25 Stretch of turbulent water
26 Clear protective coating for wood
27 Violent disturbance of atmosphere with strong winds
DOWN
1 Shallow body of water separated from a larger body
2 Type of ocean motion, 2 words
3 Coming up, 2 words
4 Spreads a sail. say
5 Consumes food
6 Where lookouts are posted, 2 words
7 Australian island state south of the mainland
9 Underwater vessel
14 They’re used as vertical pillars to which lines may be made fast
16 Prefix for American naval vessels
18 Electronic guidance system using satellite signals, 2 words
20 Vessel’s motion
21 “It’s cold!” expression
22 Bangkok native
23 Canned meat
25 Brazilian city famous for its carnival
» See solution on page 52
The Columbia River was named after a ship. It was named after Captain Robert Gray’s ship, the Columbia . He was the first European explorer to sail up it May 12, 1792.
Davis Strait, a strait between Greenland and North America that connects Baffin Bay to the Atlantic, was named after British explorer John Davis, who undertook three Arctic voyages in search of the Northwest Passage. He is believed to be the first European explorer to discover this Strait, as well as the Falkland Islands in 1592. He was later killed by pirates near Singapore while on a journey to the East Indies.
The Atlantic Ocean is thought to have taken its name from the fabled kingdom of Atlantis, or from the Atlas Mountains of northwest Africa, which ancients thought overlooked the entire ocean.
Bristol Bay in Alaska was named by Captain James Cook in 1778.
Nome, the Alaskan seaport, was reputedly named by a British naval cartographer who, while preparing a map of Alaska, noted a cape without a name and wrote “Name?” above it. The London printer misread it and so it was named Nome.
Bounty Bay is located on Pitcairn Island, named after the HMS Bounty
The French name for the English Channel is La Manche, meaning “the sleeve,” in reference to the shape of it.
>1,000 yards from whale(s)
1/2 nautical mile = roughly 1,000 yards
Boaters must:
Move away obeying 7-knot speed limit
▸ Stay 1,000 yards away from Southern Resident(s)
▸ If within 1,000 yards, move away below 7-knot speed limit
▸ If within 400 yards (and if it is safe to do so), disengage transmission, luff sails, or stop paddling until whale(s) move away
Learn more at wdfw.wa.gov/orca
transmission, cease paddling, luff sails
low tides » Products News
» GILL OS3 COASTAL JACKET
On the waters of the Pacific Northwest, a solid coastal or offshore quality jacket is essential—even at times in the summer. Whether you’re an advanced sailor looking for a go-to outer layer or a beginner who needs to be ready for the elements, the Coastal Jacket fits all. Gill Marine’s iconic Coastal Jacket has received an upgrade in the way of its new OS3 fabric to keep you dry and comfortable in unpredictable conditions. Crafted with their exclusive XPLORE® two-layer fabric and treated using the revolutionary XPEL® technology for improved protection, the OS3 fabric is a dynamic upgrade that is also created with 88% recycled content. The jacket features a fully lined hi-visibility hood with two-way adjustment system, high cut thermal collar, adjustable cuffs, and taped seams so you can feel confident and protected in all conditions. Side entry pockets with bonded pocket flaps and velcro closure keeps things in but water out, and an internal pocket with zip closure is conveniently located. The Coastal Jacket comes in colors Red, Black, or Dark Navy.
Price: $260 » www.gillmarine.com
» REMIGOONE ELECTRIC OUTBOARD
Now available for sale in North America, the RemigoOne electric outboard is an innovative 1085W (1kW) 3 HP motor that is designed and built with cutting-edge materials and technology. Unlike traditional electric outboards that simply mimic gasoline-powered designs, RemigoOne is engineered as a modern, ergonomic solution for tenders, small sailboats, and recreational boaters. Crafted from marine-grade aluminum, RemigoOne is resistant to UV rays, saltwater, and wear, unlike plastic-bodied outboards. The sleek, wingshaped shaft allows for precise steering even when the motor is off, which is a key feature for safety and docking. At less than 2 inches thick, the shaft slices through the water with ease, boosting efficiency and performance. There are no cables or corrosion-prone electrical connections and the integrated battery is built with safe, individually welded LiFePo cells.
Price: $2,999 » www.remigousa.com binoculars are wrapped in high-visibility orange body armor and
» SIG SAUER ZULU6 HDX PRO MARINE BINOCULARS
Having binoculars aboard your boat is a key safety item for spotting other vessels, buoys, debris, or land, and Sig Sauer has been well known for providing high quality products in this range for a while. Now, their ground-breaking ZULU6 image stabilized binocular family is stepping into new waters with the ZULU6 HDX Marine Series. Providing a crystal-clear image created by their OmniScan™ image stabilization technology, the ZULU6 HDX Marine eliminates unwanted motion while viewing even on rough water. The HDX PRO™ lens system and polarized objective lens cover cuts through glare in harsh lighting conditions, and the IPX7 waterproof and fogproof performance makes them usable even in bad weather. The binoculars are wrapped in high-visibility orange body armor and include a floating neck strap, waterproof Pelican® carry case, and rechargeable li-ion batteries.
Price: $1,999.99 » www.sigsauer.com
OUT OF
AnchorOut.org
YOU CAN HELP PRESERVE EELGRASS
ANCHOR OUTSIDE OF VOLUNTARY NO-ANCHOR ZONES
ANCHOR IN DEPTHS OF AT LEAST 25 FEET AT LOW TIDE
TIE UP AT A MARINA, DOCK, OR MOORING BUOY
Anchors don't hold as well in softer sediment where eelgrass is found and can damage eelgrass meadows important for marine life like salmon, crabs, and herring.
CLOSE TO THE WATER 20 BOAT RAMP CHAMPS
by Bruce Bateau
Iwas on one of my early camp-cruising trips in a 15-foot rowboat when I approached the tiny marina at Blake Island State Marine Park. Two sailors from a 40-foot trawler climbed down from their deck chairs to the dock. “Do you have mooring lines?” one asked.
In the past, I’d used mooring lines while maneuvering in and out of the water at my local boat ramp, tugging my boat this way or that to avoid hitting one of the aluminum fishing craft or fiberglass ski boats that usually rushed past me. This had always been a solo endeavor, however. So what did these guys want with my mooring lines?
Still, they looked friendly. I produced a pair of bow and stern lines, and the strangers reached out for them. Then they pulled me towards the dock and tied off Terrapin to a pair of horn cleats. I was floored. Nobody at a boat ramp had ever offered to lend me a hand.
It was one of my first stops at a marina, and I would soon discover that marina sailors have an unspoken code of conduct, in which the highest virtues are
UNDERSTANDING
THE
UNIQUE PEOPLE AND PROCESS OF THIS MARITIME NECESSITY
pride in seamanship, camaraderie at the dock, and extending a helping hand to arriving fellow sailors.
Meanwhile, for trailer sailors at the boat ramp, it’s everyone for themselves. Far from the collegial experience one might expect among fellow boaters, launching at a ramp is often an isolating, if not downright competitive experience, especially on a busy afternoon. Approaching the ramp after a peaceful day on the river, relaxation can swiftly evaporate as an ethos of speed and efficiency prevails.
Boat ramps (or launches) are typically made of concrete and slope downwards towards the lowest reaches of the tide. The nicer launches have a parallel, articulated dock reaching from the top of the ramp into the water that allows a boater to tie up while they park their rig and trailer. Without a dock, one must launch, then pull the bow slightly ashore to hold the boat in place, perhaps toss out an anchor, and hurry to return, before an errant wave washes your craft ashore.
My early experiences at the boat ramp were challenging. As a new sailor, I had
The Arcadia Point Boat Ramp in the South Sound is an easy spot to launch kayaks and other small craft with oars or sails.
With six launching lanes on the Columbia River, Chinook Landing is one of Oregon’s largest public boating facilities.
to gain a whole separate set of skills. Learning to rig, de-rig, and stow gear on a sailboat that had to perform well on the river and, minutes later, travel at 60 miles per hour was one factor. I discovered that, if something can come loose, flap, or fly off while moving it down a bumpy road at unnatural speeds, it certainly will. I quickly figured out when to bag, lash, bungee, or stow equipment—or risk losing it.
The other, possibly more intimidating challenge, was mastering the safest way to back an unwieldy trailer in a straight line down a steep hill and (gasp) plunge it into the water to just the right depth so that the boat would float, but not drift away, before I could get out of the car to move it to the adjacent dock. The possibility of forgetting to set the parking brake, or backing just a little too far and accidentally landing the family car in the drink, was almost enough to turn me off of sailing right from the start. Finally, I had to move the boat to the end of the dock that parallels the ramp, tie it to a rail, and quickly move my car, so that the next person could launch their boat.
Boat ramps are theoretically an equitable and common good, intended for everyone to gain access to the
water, in what can otherwise be a private or hostile shore. I learned that there’s a definite hierarchy at the ramp. Motorboats dominate, both with speed and their wakes that can impact a small sailboat’s ability to maneuver in tight quarters, risking a collision with the dock or a fellow sailor. Then come the “snake” boaters: fast, aggressive types who sneak into line by moving around or threading between slow moving boats, like mine. Last in line, alas, are the engineless boats. While snakes are frowned upon, the most universally dreaded users are ramp hogs. Perpetually self-unaware, they lollygag at inconvenient places on or near the ramp, blocking access for all. While they often seem to be kayakers in my experience, hogs come in all types of craft, but engage in the same behavior: loading gear in and out of their boats, talking to passersby, organizing small children, or improbably applying sunscreen at the head of the line, instead of in the prep area.
As I became a more experienced boater and mastered the basics, I traveled farther afield, launching at newto-me ramps from the Lower Columbia to British Columbia. And from them, I’d head out on multiple day trips. Pretty quickly,
The ramp near Hope Island is the ideal place to start a South Sound adventure.
I realized that their physical layouts were all basically the same, as is the order of business: be ready, queue up, launch or retrieve as quickly as possible, and enjoy time on the water if not at the ramp.
On these trips when I wasn’t at anchor or snugged up on a beach, I began to explore life at marinas, with their whole new code of conduct and rules. My neighbors were now friendly folks with boats that lived most of their lives in water instead of on trailers. Theirs seemed a more predictable world that was nice to visit, but somehow I found myself drawn to the utilitarian nature of the ramp. The variety of people, although at times confounding, appealed to me. From twenty-somethings with their first motorboat, to working shellfish tenders, to old guys polishing their mahogany runabouts, there was always something new to see, and occasionally someone interesting to talk to.
I realized that you never know what you might see at the ramp, but you do know you’ll end up on the water, even if you have to do everything yourself.
Bruce Bateau sails and rows traditional boats with a modern twist in Portland, Oregon. His stories and adventures can be found at www.terrapintales.wordpress.com
NECESSARY OR NICE
RADAR YOUR EYES IN THE FOG OR JUST ANOTHER ANTENNA?
by Gio and Julie Cappelli
Being cruisers and captains, we often emphasize the importance of integrating radar into a vessel’s navigation system as a cornerstone of prudent seamanship. Thankfully, the days of massive, power-hungry radar domes are mostly behind us. Modern pulse compression radar units are lightweight—typically under 11 pounds—and consume minimal power, while providing sharp resolution at both short and long ranges. Why might you want to have radar on your boat? In simple terms, radar helps you “see” what’s around your vessel—even in darkness, rain, or restricted visibility.
Radar—short for Radio Detection and Ranging—works by sending out radio waves from a transmitter. These waves travel through the air, bounce off objects, and return to the radar’s receiver. The system then calculates the time it took for the wave to return and uses that information to determine the object’s distance, direction, and sometimes relative speed. The resulting display usually shows blips or arcs representing boats, land, weather cells, and even large debris. More advanced systems integrate with digital charts, AIS (Automatic Identification System), and multifunction displays (MFDs) for enhanced situational awareness, and these systems are increasingly becoming more affordable and accessible than ever before.
The value of radar becomes especially clear in poor visibility. This is particularly true in places prone to rapid weather shifts or persistent fog. For those of us who regularly cruise the Pacific
Northwest during the month of August—affectionately known as “Fogust”—the thick, low-altitude marine fog that frequently settles in from Southeast Alaska to the Salish Sea is a familiar challenge. This kind of fog forms when moist air passes over cooler waters, cooling and condensing into thick, visibilitykilling soup, sometimes before you’ve even finished your morning coffee. Having a properly installed and tuned radar means you’re not guessing what lies ahead. You can spot other boats, shorelines, buoys, and yes, sometimes even floating logs, provided they’re big enough and your settings are dialed in. Paired with a good bow watch and conservative seamanship, radar provides crucial backup to your eyeballs when they’re all but useless.
Radar is also helpful in spotting vessels and hazards that are too far away to see with the naked eye or are hidden in blind spots due to waves, swell, or deck-level sightlines. This becomes critical in crowded or narrow waterways, especially when trying to avoid collisions. Many cruisers have added AIS receivers or transceivers to their boats in recent years, which is great progress in maritime safety. But it’s no substitute for radar.
Military and fishing vessels, for example, are notoriously inconsistent about transmitting their AIS position; if they transmit at all. And smaller recreational boats may not be equipped with AIS or might have it turned off. Relying on AIS alone creates blind spots. Radar fills in those gaps. It detects vessels and hazards that aren’t broadcasting a signal, which is exactly when you need the added layer of detection most.
AIS and radar together offer the most complete picture of your surroundings. AIS tells you who’s out there. Radar tells you what’s actually out there.
Radar is also invaluable for identifying landmasses, markers, and other fixed obstacles. This is particularly useful when entering harbors or navigating close to shore, especially in areas where aids to navigation (ATONs) may have moved since the last time the chart was updated. In fact, even in well-charted waters, buoys can drift or be repositioned between seasons. Some ocean moorings and larger ATONs can have swing radii of over a mile. Radar allows you to confirm the actual, real-time location of these objects, which is a vital complement to any chart-based navigation.
Radar can also track weather—squalls, rain cells, dense fog banks, and storm systems, helping you prepare for and sometimes avoid deteriorating conditions. This is particularly useful during night passages when visibility is already limited. In the tropics, where squalls often move quickly and without much warning, radar allows you to assess their direction, speed, and intensity. A quick adjustment to your sail plan or course— made with five or ten minutes of advance notice—can make a big difference in comfort and safety. For shorthanded crews or couples standing solo night watches, that information affords otherwise priceless time and peace of mind.
Still, as with any technology, radar isn’t perfect. Smaller targets like crab pot buoys or kayaks may not show up, especially with older or less sensitive systems. Radar images can become cluttered or confusing, especially in coastal areas with lots of interference from landmasses and man-made structures. Multiple vessels in close proximity can create overlapping returns. Ghost targets—false echoes caused by land reflections or equipment interference—can clutter the screen. Learning to interpret what you’re seeing takes time, practice, and familiarity with your particular system.
Offshore, distant targets may first appear as faint, ambiguous blips and can be easy to miss if you’re not paying attention or if your gain and clutter settings aren’t properly tuned. And yes, heavy seas, spray, and rain can reduce image quality. Even modern radar systems benefit from regular tweaking underway. They require an understanding of how to adjust filters and gain settings to distinguish real targets from noise. These aren’t “set and forget” tools, you have to work with them.
Power consumption is another consideration. While today’s systems are far more efficient than older models, some legacy radars still draw significant power and may not be ideal for sailors trying to conserve amp-hours between anchorages. Maintenance also matters. Radar units, like all marine electronics, need occasional calibration and care. We’ve worked with clients refitting their boats who discover that their aging radar dome is not only underperforming but also drawing far more power than they thought. If you’re already upgrading to NMEA2000 systems or replacing an MFD, it often makes sense to upgrade your radar at the same time. Modern units perform better, draw less power, and integrate more easily into your onboard network.
Installation matters, too. A poorly mounted radar dome— tucked into your rigging, mounted too low, or pointed at
Typical “Fogust” conditions like these while rounding Cape Scott are when radar shines brightest.
Whether cruising offshore or near the coast, using radar for collision avoidance is prudent seamanship.
Low power draws, a high safety factor, and the ability to network your radar with an MFD allows you to further simplify decision-making at sea.
obstructions—can lead to blind spots and poor returns. And while many DIYers are capable of mounting and wiring a radar unit, this is one area where investing in professional help can pay dividends. Proper alignment, configuration, and integration with your MFD or navigation system can make the difference between a useful tool and a frustrating gadget that rarely gets turned on.
Of course, all of this assumes that you’ve learned how to use it. Radar is not intuitive out of the box. It takes time and repeated use to learn what a squall looks like, how a headland appears versus a vessel, and how to tell sea clutter from a stationary object. You need to push buttons. Play with settings. Experiment in familiar areas during daylight so that, come nightfall or fog, you understand what your radar is showing you. What does a sailboat look like at a quarter-mile? How does a rain cell present versus a fishing boat? These are learned skills. When conditions become challenging, you don’t want your first question to be, “Which button turns this on?”
Increasingly, we hear the argument that AIS is necessary but radar is merely nice to have. And while AIS is certainly a gamechanging tool—offering vessel identification, course, speed, and collision alerts—it only shows you what’s transmitting. It won’t show that fishing boat tucked behind a headland, or the drifting log, or the low-slung skiff with no electronics. AIS is like a captain announcing their presence on the radio. Radar is your flashlight in the dark corners of the room. One gives you identity and trajectory. The other gives you presence and scale.
So, is radar necessary or nice? If you stick to day-sailing in clear weather, hopping between familiar anchorages, or staying close to shore in settled seasons, sure, radar might feel like a luxury. You may go an entire season without needing it. But if you sail in shoulder seasons, stand night watches, venture offshore, or explore fog-prone coasts, it’s not just “nice.” Radar’s importance also jumps for those whose cruising schedules are less flexible, when waiting out fog for a day or two isn’t an ideal option. Moreover, it’s smart seamanship. It’s a second set of eyes that never blink, never tire, and never misjudge the distance to a target. It lets you “see” what your senses cannot, and that’s not a luxury. That’s confidence.
For us, radar belongs squarely in the “necessary” column. Not because we use it every hour, but because when it matters, it really matters. And that’s the root of it. Radar isn’t just another gadget, it’s a tool that expands your awareness in the moments that count. The moments when your eyes are useless, your ears are guessing, and you need near-absolute clarity. Once you’ve relied on radar in earnest, it’s hard to imagine cruising without it. So invest in learning it. Tune it. Use it. Trust it. But always pair it with good seamanship and a well-trained crew. After all, your sharpest tool is still the human brain. But it’s nice to give it backup.
Gio and Julie of Pelagic Blue lead offshore sail training expeditions and teach cruising skills classes aimed at preparing aspiring cruisers for safe, self-sufficient cruising on their own boats.
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HIKES FOR BOATERS
Photos by Karen Johnson.
by Michael Boyd
TMORE GULF ISLANDS
he Canadian Gulf Islands are just across the border from the San Juans and are similar in many respects—in the large number of islands, the many marine parks, and the wealth of opportunities for boaters, including hiking. Of course, the Canadian islands and the cruising experiences there have their own flavor as well. Whatever your Salish Sea homeport, there’s a decent chance that some summertime exploration of the Gulf Islands is in your future. Our previous article about boataccessed hikes in the Gulf Islands from 48° North’s August 2024 issue covered some of our favorite hiking destinations, and here we’ll share a few more.
SOUTH PENDER ISLAND’S BEDWELL HARBOUR
Bedwell Harbour on South Pender Island is a popular destination for a variety of excellent reasons. Since it’s a Canadian Port of Entry, it’s the first place many U.S. boaters visit in Canada. Some immediately continue their journey, but there are good reasons for a proper visit to Bedwell Harbour besides clearing in. There is a marina/resort, Poets Cove Marina, that has road access with hikes (not discussed here) and a swimming pool. Beaumont Marine Park is in the bay just north of the marina, with a number of mooring buoys and hiking trails. We prefer to anchor near the buoys and have always found room and good holding. Even though it seems somewhat open to the south, we have never had a problem with weather. There is a lot of boat traffic, but it typically dies off at night. For us, the main attraction is Mount Norman.
We like to land the dinghy near a set of stairs on the beach and begin our hike to Mount Norman there. The trail goes through forest before it turns steeply uphill, then winds through rock outcroppings to the top of a ridge. As much as the weary hiker would like it to be, this is not Mount Norman, merely a ridge on the route that must be crossed. The trail continues down
the other side then heads back up an old road to the Mount Norman summit platform. The views from the 800-foot summit are outstanding: in the foreground, the Gulf Islands and in the background, Vancouver Island and, on a clear day, the Olympic Mountains to the south. If we wander a little bit east we can even look down on our boat resting peacefully at anchor. It’s 4.4 miles round trip from our dinghy and more than worth the trip.
VANCOUVER ISLAND’S GENOA BAY
Genoa Bay is on the north side of Cowichan Bay and, on the chart, looks to be a decent anchorage; but many times we have had problems there. Winds from both the north and south seem to funnel through the bay. Even in good weather, the breeze often seems to build after sunset, instead of dying. Once, we were there when two large sailboats that were rafted together had to split at midnight and anchor separately because it was just too rough. On the bright side, the bottom has good holding and there is room to anchor, though less so now that float houses occupy part of the bay. The saving grace is Genoa Bay Marina, which has some facilities and a restaurant, and is well protected. Truth be told, we might not continue to come here if it weren’t for the fabulous hike.
The rounded summit of Mount Tzouhalem stands at 1,574 feet, but the tall, broad cliff on its south face makes it recognizable from far away in the San Juans. From the main road near the marina, the trail to the top starts at a large, brown electrical
box near the marina turnoff; the trail heads away from the road, shortly turns left, then climbs steeply to a ridge that follows the cliff top. At several locations along the ridge, there are viewpoints where you can look down the vertical cliff face for hundreds of feet and out over Cowichan Valley. At the highest point you are only about 50 feet lower than the summit. This is where we usually stop, to enjoy the spectacular view and often, to watch vultures soaring along the face of the cliff below our eye level, three or four at a time. It’s a strenuous but rewarding 4.7 miles round trip from the marina.
PREVOST ISLAND
Prevost Island has four short, narrow inlets on its northwest side; our favorite is James Bay. It isn’t very long and is open to northwest wind and wakes from ferries and pleasure boats in Captain Passage, but we’ve never spent an uncomfortable night here. Even though the anchoring space is limited, there seems to be room for every boat that shows up.
The north arm of James Bay ends at Pielle Point and there is a well-defined boaters’ trail from the beach out to the point. A boaters’ trail is one made by years of repeated use by hikers, but otherwise not maintained. It’s mostly flat, easy to follow and ends at a point with 270 degree views of Captain Passage and Trincomali Channel. We love to eat our lunch here and watch the boats go by, many on their way to Montague Harbour, directly across from the point. It’s about 2.5 miles round trip
Mount Norman boardwalk and viewpoint.
View of Poets Cove and customs dock from the summit of Mount Norman.
Pielle Point light and viewpoint.
Looking east from the slopes of the Tzouhalem ridge.
from your dinghy on the beach.
From Selby Cove, another of the narrow inlets, there is a trail starting at a small rocky beach on the north side of the cove that goes over the hill and ends in the James Bay kayak camp, creating a longer hike option to Pielle Point.
NANAIMO’S SAYSUTSHUN MARINE PARK (FORMERLY NEWCASTLE ISLAND PARK)
Newcastle Island is a fairly large island which, together with its smaller companion, Protection Island, actually form Nanaimo Harbour. It is a popular marine park with public floats and many mooring buoys in Mark Bay on its south side. The buoys all look the same from a distance, but each is marked with the maximum boat length allowed so you have to make a close approach to even see if you fit that particular buoy. Anchoring is allowed in Mark Bay but there are a number of closed areas that have to be avoided, including a seaplane landing area. Careful attention to the chart is required. In midsummer, especially on weekends, it can be very crowded. If you want some town time, you can even stay in Nanaimo, which is nice to explore on foot—you can then take the regular water taxi to the island.
Once the boat is secure, we dinghy to the public float and walk the island. According to the trail map at the top of the ramp, there are many possible walks with loops from as short as a mile, and others as long as 7 or 8 miles. Near the north end of the island, there is a lovely lake to visit and on the southwest side there are old stone quarries that reveal some of the island’s history. Trails go along the top of bluffs with spectacular views of the Strait of Georgia and also access the water in numerous places around the island. In the afternoon, we gravitate to the warm, sunny shell beaches on the west side
Michael and Karen have been cruising the Salish Sea and beyond for more than 20 years, hiking every chance they get. For more resources for hikers visit their website at https://mvmischief.com/library/
For additional hiking information in this area Michael and Karen also recommend: “Hiking the Gulf Islands of British Columbia” by Charles Kahn.
where we can watch the boat traffic in Nanaimo Harbour. The variety of hiking on Newcastle Island—and indeed, throughout the Gulf Islands—keeps us returning year after year. It’s really that good.
Starting on a Newcastle Island hike in front of the Mark Bay mooring field.
Hiking out onto the Newcastle Island lake.
Walking a Newcastle Island path to the main park building. Tidepooling along the Newcastle Island shore.
48° NORTH MAGAZINE
PARENTING THROUGH PRINCESS LOUISA INLET
NAVIGATING RAPIDS AND FAMILY DYNAMICS IN PNW PARADISE
by Joshua Davis
The dispute with my 14-year-old son started, as many disputes do, with a promise. I had agreed to let him captain our 37-foot Beneteau through the Malibu Rapids at the mouth of Princess Louisa Inlet. I wanted to give him the opportunity to take responsibility, grow as a person, and build his confidence. Instead, the opposite happened.
Malibu Rapids are notoriously challenging. It’s a narrow opening at the entrance to Princess Louisa Inlet, a hidden 4-mile fjord at the top of the Jervis Inlet north of Vancouver. From the outside, the fjord doesn’t reveal its real splendor. The entrance is a cut in the rock—maybe 200 feet wide—and it zig zags so that you can’t really see what’s around the bend.
Part of what drew us there was the legend of the place. My wife, Tara, was reading Muriel Wylie Blanchet’s book “The Curve of Time” which describes Blanchet’s summers in the 1920s spent exploring British Columbia on a 25-foot boat with her five young children. For her, Princess Louisa was a magical place with “brighter stars than you see anywhere else.” From other cruisers, we had heard it described as an unspoilt Yosemite, accessible only by boat or float plane.
But we also heard it was dangerous. As the tide rises and falls, a massive amount of water churns through the entrance like a stampede of cattle, turning the narrow gap into galloping rows of waves. We heard a story of an impatient captain who decided to run it before slack tide. He got halfway into the cut and couldn’t make forward progress as the water rushed out.
Kirin deep in boat schooling in British Columbia.
When he turned his boat to go back, the current grabbed hold and capsized him. In 2016, a teenager fell into the rapids and drowned. The place has earned its reputation.
We set off at dawn on July 11, 2024 from Pender Harbor. Low tide at Point Atkinson was at 12:42 p.m. Another sailor at Pender told us to add 35 minutes to get low tide slack at Malibu Rapids so we needed to hit the entrance at about 1:15 p.m. It was about a 40-mile journey and the wind models showed some strong headwinds later in the day. We had to hustle.
But my teenager wouldn’t get out of bed. “I thought you were going to captain,” I said.
“You asked if I wanted to captain the rapids, not the whole thing,” he groaned and put a pillow over his head.
Maybe that was my first mistake. I could have insisted he lead the whole day but I decided to let him sleep. I figured he’d be better off if he was well-rested for the rapids. And I wanted him to want the responsibility. I didn’t want to force it on him. He had been excited to tackle the rapids and I thought that was a good place to start. Sure, captaining is about much more than navigating a short stretch of exciting water; but I thought to myself, “Let’s just start with this bit that he’s enthusiastic about and build from there.”
I also wanted to be sensitive to the fact that it was a unique time for us as a family. Our older son, Kal, had just left home to study at the Northwest School of Wooden Boat Building in Port Hadlock, Washington. For 18 years, our family unit was four people. Now, with Kal off on his own, we were just three. Kirin had just graduated from 8th grade and was about to begin high school. My wife and I saw all these transitions as an opportunity to shake things up, so we rented out our house in San Francisco and set out to sail for six months. Kirin would spend the first semester of freshman year on the boat, doing “boat-schooling.” We got Starlink so he could take online classes, my work in media was already on Zoom, and my wife took a sabbatical.
For me, it had always been a dream to sail for an extended period. During the pandemic, we cruised as a family in the Caribbean and that sparked a burst of creativity. My older son and I started writing a novel together during that time and were able to sell it to a publisher. It tells the story of a family who walks away from the modern world to live on a boat in the Caribbean (it’s called “The Uncertainty Principle” and it comes out this month).
The book was on my mind as we motored in light wind up Jervis Inlet that morning. The fictional mom and dad we wrote about were well-meaning but didn’t always make the right parenting decisions. Some of that stemmed from my own doubts. Why was Kirin so grumpy all the time? Was I doing something wrong? Maybe the whole idea of sailing for six months was a doomed experiment. After all, what appeals to an adult about sailing—the quiet, the lack of devices—often sounds terrible to a teenager. Kirin seemed to be living the experience of the main character in our book: he was sick of hanging out with his parents all the time.
That’s why I thought it would be a nice gesture to give him command of the boat. Let him be in charge and show that I
Headed up Jervis Inlet, the first sign of another boat soon revealed a swarm of vessels racing for
Demoted from captain, Kirin took some time at the bow on approach to Malibu Rapids.
Before things got more challenging, the author and Kirin at the helm, all smiles.
Princess Louisa.
didn’t need to always boss him around, particularly as he got older and more mature. But these were all thoughts that I had by myself, standing at the helm, while Kirin continued to sleep down below.
For hours, we were the only boat we could see. Jervis is a dead-end and has no towns as you go north so it wasn’t surprising that we were alone. It was a blue sky day and there was almost no wind at that early hour. The mountaintops on either side had snow. It was beautiful but also forbidding. I felt so much solitude out there.
Soon, the wind picked up, whistling through the rig at 15 knots from up the inlet. It was a headwind, but the inlet curved like a squiggly line, so I hauled up the sails and could make some good progress tacking. I shut down the engine and was still on target to arrive before slack tide.
The sudden quiet must have woken Kirin because he poked his head up the companionway.
“Where are we?” he asked, bleary eyed.
He climbed out and stood beside me at the chartplotter. On the screen, a boat popped up on AIS. It was far behind, many curves back, so we couldn’t see it. Kirin tapped the icon and saw that it was moving at 7 knots. We were only getting 5 knots at best. In a moment, an entire armada of boats appeared even farther behind, probably a dozen in a tight pack, all racing forward at more than 10 knots.
“What is going on?” Kirin asked.
“I guess we’re not alone anymore.”
It soon became clear that there was a race. A contingent of motorboats was sprinting up the inlet to get to Princess Louisa. We knew that there was only one dock inside the fjord, a handful of buoys and not many good places to drop the hook. If you didn’t get there first, you’d be forced to anchor on a steeply plunging granite shelf. Not ideal.
Kirin and I watched warily as the pack of boats closed in on us. There was still that one boat ahead of them all. When it rounded the bend, I was surprised to see it was a sailboat with its mainsail furled but its jib up. It was still going 7 knots according to AIS.
“Cheaters,” I said. They were motor-sailing. I gave a big speech about the purity of sailing, how the early explorers didn’t have engines, how nice it was to listen to the sound of the wind, how we got up so early so we could enjoy the experience, and then I turned on the engine.
I started out at 1500 RPM—just a little assist that got me to 6 knots. But then I noticed on AIS that the other boat had notched up to 8 knots. Bastards. They were close to the wind while I was still tacking. I bumped the throttle up a little bit more.
Within a couple hours, they were off to starboard and we were looking at each other with our binoculars. He had edged up to 9 knots in a sailboat about our size. Behind us, a dozen Ranger Tugs were surging forward a couple miles back. They were gaining on us but we were still ahead. The entrance to Princess Louisa wasn’t that far now. We could rev up more but we were ahead of slack tide.
“Let’s go faster,” Kirin said, alert to the competition.
“We could get there first maybe but then we’d have to wait
While motorsailing up Jervis Inlet, Kirin does his math homework and Tara reads a good book.
As is typical in July, the main dock in Princess Louisa is jam-packed.
Tara takes in the view from the bow while motoring up Princess Louisa Inlet.
for slack, so what’s the point?”
“But they’re going to win.”
“Win what?”
I can’t say I didn’t feel the pull to race the other boat to an imaginary finish line but I also recognized its futility.
“So you’re just going to let them pass us after we’ve been ahead this whole time?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to look wise.
“That’s dumb.”
“I offered you the helm this morning,” I countered. “You ready to take over?”
“After I eat,” he said, disappearing below.
The sailboat won the “race” and got to the entrance first. We weren’t far behind and within 30 minutes, there was a veritable traffic jam of boats trying to hold position while the current pushed us down the inlet. I counted 13 boats, including one small trimaran that was tacking up the inlet in the distance. They had maintained their purity but they were also the last in line.
“Well captain, you ready for this?” I asked Kirin as he came back on deck. “The helm is yours.”
He nodded, looking excited, and took the wheel. We were 45 minutes ahead of slack and the chatter on channel 16 started up. One of the Ranger Tugs announced that the two sailboats—us and the other one—had gotten here first so we had first dibs. After us, the tugs would go one by one in the order they arrived.
Kirin eyed the entrance to the fjord. There was no sign of whitewater or even fast moving current. It looked calm and safe.
“I’m going to head towards it,” he said. “If it’s too sketchy, we can turn around. But if it’s good, we can get ahead of everybody.”
I laid out all the information we had. You couldn’t see the full channel since it bent around the rock. Maybe the rapids were there. And if you got in there and got in trouble, there was limited room to navigate. It would be hard or perhaps impossible to turn around. The risk was high and for what benefit? So we could get marginally ahead? As it was, we were in second position which was pretty good.
“But it looks totally fine,” he insisted.
“The common wisdom is to wait for dead slack.”
“Okay but who’s the captain right now?” he said, suddenly holding my gaze. “Because I thought I was.”
Damn. My plan had been to boost his self-confidence and show him that I trusted him. But now he was about to make a rash decision. I had miscalculated. I assumed he would make the obvious right choice instead of gunning it through one of the most dangerous and feared navigational hazards in the Pacific Northwest.
“I’m taking back over,” I announced.
“You’re terrible,” he growled and went below, slamming his cabin door.
My wife watched the whole episode silently. Later, she told me that I shouldn’t have given him such a big bite of the apple. “Start with smaller challenges first,” she counseled.
“But sometimes you need a big challenge to inspire
Finding a place to anchor in the inlet is difficult, but if you manage, it can be great.
Moonrise at 9 p.m. in July is gorgeous inside Princess Louisa Inlet.
Kirin relaxes after the hectic entry to Princess Louisa.
Demonstrating what happens when you ask a teenager to smile.
someone to lead,” I responded.
“And then look what happens,” she pointed out.
A few minutes before slack, the rival sailboat kicked into gear and headed for the rapids. “Frankly, this worked out well,” I said to no one, as I was by myself in the cockpit now. My wife was sitting at the bow, trying to get a better view of the channel, and Kirin was still below. “Since that other boat got ahead, I can watch what happens to them before we go in.” I patted myself on the back, but I felt pretty crappy.
I shouted at Kirin and he reluctantly reappeared. “Why don’t you do the radio call,” I offered as an olive branch. He didn’t seem that excited but did the call on Channel 16: “Sécurité, Sécurité, Sécurité, this is sailing vessel Allora approaching Malibu Rapids, inbound for Princess Louisa Inlet. All concerned traffic please advise on Channel 16. Over.”
I clicked into gear and followed the other sailboat as I saw the top of their mast disappear behind the rocks. Everything seemed fine. We traced a course down the middle of the channel and, though it was slack, there were still eddies and a confused current. I made the hard turn to starboard and saw a big pile of floating logs caught in an eddy dead ahead. Luckily, the narrow channel bore off to port and I followed the curve into the open water of Princess Louisa.
And what a sight it was. The fjord opened on both sides and rose up steeply thousands of feet to stunning snow capped mountains. Almost immediately, a swarm of Ranger Tugs blasted past us at full speed, gunning for the dock and smattering of available mooring buoys.
But ah ha! There was a buoy at MacDonald Island that was free and since the island was close to the entrance, we still had a head start. We turned in to grab it only to discover that it had a sign saying it was out-of-service, not to be used.
I looked back and saw the line of tugs zooming up the inlet. By the time we got to the end of the valley, there was no dock space or buoys.
“See?” Kirin said. “Shoulda let me captain.”
I motored near a dent in the steep southern canyon wall and watched the depth sounder go from 400 feet to 50 feet suddenly and then 30 feet. There was a 15 foot tidal swing so I circled around, backed in, and dropped in 30 feet with limited scope because our stern was close to the rock wall. I was able to scramble onto a ledge and stern tie to a thick, old tree. I didn’t sleep well that night but the anchor held through the rise and fall of the tide.
In the morning, when we gathered for breakfast in the cockpit, our argument about responsibility and maturity and rash decisions faded in the light bouncing off the granite cliffs. A waterfall plummeted a thousand feet along the north wall. There was no wind so the mountains surrounding us reflected in the water, doubling the view. It made us all feel both insignificant and glorious at the same time.
“I’m still mad at you,” Kirin said. “But this is pretty great.”
All’s well that ends well. It was a successful journey to
Joshua Davis (instagram.com/joshandkal) is the New York Times bestselling author of “Spare Parts, The Underdog” and the novel “The Uncertainty Principle,” out this month from Penguin Random House.
Kirin at the helm on a beautiful day in British Columbia.
Princess Louisa.
A TALE OF TWO CRUISES
THE SPICY AND SWEET SIDE OF CRUISING THE SALISH SEA
Pause for a moment, and imagine a quintessential day of boating on the Salish Sea: wide, open waters stretching out before you, snow-capped peaks like a painted backdrop in the distance, and a pod of orcas breaching under a clear blue sky. Maybe you’re sailing on a dreamy reach toward the Southern Gulf Islands, or perhaps you’re throttled down, planing toward a sundrenched and pastry-filled afternoon in Poulsbo, a wake trailing behind you in the golden light.
Or maybe—just maybe—you’re fully exposed to a wintertime southeasterly gale in the Straits, very much a small craft in the midst of a Small Craft Advisory. Or, perhaps, you’re dodging half-sunken logs and tidal eddies, and following highway signs nailed to dilapidated pilings along a muddy slough in the Skagit Valley.
Those may not sound like everyone’s ideal days on the water, but for me and my partner, Gavin, it’s exactly the kind of oddball magic we chase. And thankfully, we’ve got just the right boat for both situations.
If you haven’t heard the name Surf Scoter yet, here’s the quick backstory: Gavin spent the better part of three years building this 24-foot powered outrigger, a design collaboration between PNW legends Russell Brown and Paul Bieker. (See the July 2024 issue of 48° North for the full build story.) She’s fast, freakishly efficient, and feather-light with almost no draft—a boat that pairs clever engineering with elegant lines. She turns heads in marinas and gets knowing nods from fellow tinkerers. We’ve tested her mettle in bigger water, punching through swells and wind that
by Ryan Samantha Carson
The foulies were barely up for a wild crossing, but the captain certainly was.
would humble larger vessels. But some of our favorite adventures have been the slower, stranger ones—exploring the hidden corners of the Salish Sea most cruisers skip or can’t reach because they're constrained by their draft.
In one particularly memorable week, we experienced both extremes: a harrowing Straits crossing in high-octane conditions, and a meandering tour of some of Puget Sound’s most overlooked backwaters.
SPICY: THE STRAIT STRIKES BACK
It all started with a deceptively benign forecast. The holidays had just wrapped up, and we needed to bring Surf Scoter home from Victoria, B.C., to Anacortes—a 35-mile run across exposed water. The predictions called for 10 knots from the east, dying off in the afternoon.
What we got instead was a relentless 25 to 30 knots from the south. And building.
As we cleared Victoria’s Inner Harbour, it became clear that this was going to be a serious passage. One quirk of an outrigger like Surf Scoter is that she’s most stable when her ama (the smaller float on the starboard side) is to leeward—it serves as a brace against the waves. Unfortunately, the wind direction meant our ama was on the windward side, lifting out of the water like a skeptical eyebrow. In very rare, extreme scenarios, a strong enough gust or wave could flip the ama over the main hull, capsize the whole boat, and leave us scrambling to safety.
With that cheerful possibility in mind, we crept along the southern coast of Victoria—eyes peeled and nerves slightly frayed—heading toward Oak Bay
Marina. Our mission? Add ballast. Surf Scoter is designed with a water ballast system, though it’s not fully operational yet. So, we did the next best thing: Gavin carefully climbed out onto the ama with a bailer and began the awkward task of dumping buckets of seawater into the hull by hand. It’s a tedious, ungraceful process, made even more surreal by the approach of a perplexed Canadian Search and Rescue officer.
“Are you in need of assistance?” the officer asked, his tiny, bewildered fluffball of a dog perched beside him.
“Nope, we’re all good!” Gavin called back gleefully.
“Then… why are you pouring water into your boat?” He wondered.
Fair question. We explained, and the kind officer accepted our unusual premise.
Once we’d added a few hundred pounds of ballast, we pointed northeast and began the nerve-wracking crossing to Roche Harbor—a downwind location that allowed us to run down the faces of the waves, instead of taking them beam-on. Needless to say, Haro Strait
Don't let the rainbow fool you, it was gnarly.
"Sometimes, adventure is best measured by how good it feels to be done."
Surf Scoter slicing waves in the strait.
did not disappoint. It was a writhing mix of whitecaps and chop, with gusts that howled in our ears and sent spray flying sideways across the deck. Frigid waves splashed over the bow, soaking everything, while patches of sun broke through the clouds in dramatic, fleeting bursts. A pair of rainbows shimmered ahead of us, seemingly guiding the way toward the lighthouse on Lime Kiln Point. It was a passage that tested the boat and her crew, demanding vigilance and patience in equal measure. It was exhilarating and uncomfortable, beautiful and brutal—the kind of crossing that keeps you alert, cold, and utterly alive. Eventually, salt-crusted and halffrozen, we slipped into the relative
calm of Roche Harbor. Tired, triumphant, and grinning like fools, we knew we’d been through something both grueling and rewarding, the kind of Type II fun that leaves you sore, briny, and deeply satisfied. A smooth customs check, the prospect of a hot shower back in Anacortes, and the familiar comforts of home waiting just over the horizon— that was more than enough. Sometimes, adventure is best measured by how good it feels to be done.
SWEET: SLOUGH DREAMS AND RIVERBOAT FANTASIES
A few days later, a welcome weather window opened, and we pivoted from survival mode to slow cruising. Calm seas, dead winds and, this time, the forecast played nice.
We fired up Surf Scoter and pointed her northeast, this time with a much more relaxed agenda: river cruising. One of our longstanding dreams with this boat has been to venture up the lesser-traveled waterways of the Pacific Northwest—to see the hidden places where salt gives way to brackish, and civilization recedes into stillness. We call this our “Riverboat Fantasy” mode, inspired by the catchy David Wilcox tune of the same name.
The first stop? Samish Bay. We followed the narrow line of pilings into Edison Slough, careful to time our entry with a positive tide. Though there’s a channel of sorts, the water is shallow and the mud unforgiving. Still, Surf Scoter’s draft is laughably small—less than a foot and the
Surf Scoter can explore waters many larger and deeper drafted vessels do not or can not.
The Samish River's shorelines felt like forgotten pockets of the Pacific Northwest, in the best way.
The smile of satisfaction of a person using the boat he built in a way he envisioned.
deepest part of the boat is the outboard’s propeller—so we tiptoed our way inland without issue.
What we found in the slough was a different world. This was not the adrenaline-pumping thrill of an openwater crossing, it was cruising at its most meditative. Herons stood like statues in the shallows, bald eagles wheeled overhead, and ravens argued from the treetops. The slough is a birder’s paradise. And for hungry boaters? Even better.
We tied Surf Scoter off to random bits of hardware along the shore of Bow-Edison and made a beeline for Breadfarm—one of the region’s best bakeries—for fresh carbs and well-earned coffee. And, once again, we were greeted by a bewildered local, this time a Breadfarm employee.
“I’ve never seen anyone come here by boat before,” she said, eyes wide.
Well, we were happy to have changed that.
Back aboard and still floating on a rising tide, we decided to push farther. Just south of Edison Slough lies another winding waterway: the Samish River. It’s even more rustic, even more peculiar. Road signs mark the turns like you’re navigating a country road and, at one point, a pair of surf scoters—the birds, not the boat—guided us along like an escort service.
We idled along until we reached the Samish docks, which are a series of weathered floats nestled among willows and grasses that you’ve likely seen if you’ve ever taken Chuckanut Drive between Bayview and Bellingham. A few boats, clearly long-term residents, swayed gently in the current. We waved to a man working on his boat, who raised a beer can in reply. The whole scene felt like a forgotten pocket of the Pacific Northwest, quietly resisting the rush of modern life.
At that point, we spun the bow back toward the bay—a tight maneuver with a multihull in a narrow slough. As we idled our way back out toward the bay, we took a moment to turn off the motor, letting the stillness seep in. With only the cry of a red-winged blackbird in the distance, it felt like time had paused, like we’d slipped into a dream. I watched the water swirl gently beneath our hulls and
felt gratitude so sharp that it nearly hurt. We weren’t trying to get anywhere. We weren’t trying to make a weather window. We were just… floating. Present. And completely content.
That said, we did still have to worry about the outgoing tide in Samish Bay, so we fired up the motor and started our cruise back to Anacortes, which maintained the affect pure serenity. Glassy water stretched ahead, and watchful redtailed hawks monitored our progress. After braving chaos and cold earlier in the week, this gentle glide felt like a kind of reward—a reminder that the Salish Sea can soothe just as easily as it can challenge.
We crossed Padilla Bay, the muted skyline of Anacortes growing ever closer, throttled back accordingly, and savored every last moment of peace before reentering civilization. As we eased into our slip, Surf Scoter settled into her berth,
gently bobbing in the familiar cradle of home. We rinsed off the salt and mud, and took a moment to breathe it all in.
These two radically different trips—one tempestuous, one tranquil—had left us with something rare: a balanced sense of place. Adventure doesn’t always have to mean struggle, and relaxation doesn’t always have to mean boredom. Profound experiences come from embracing the full spectrum of possibilities.
In the span of a single week, we’d danced with the extremes—lulls and gales, lazy drifts and white-knuckles— and this lean, purposeful little craft had carried us through it all, slicing cleanly through the chaos and the calm alike. And that’s the joy of this kind of boat, this kind of place, and this kind of partnership. It’s about blending peacefulness with pandemonium, and finding adventure in both the obvious and the overlooked.
So, when people ask us what Surf Scoter is “for,” as they frequently do, we just smile. She’s for crossing the Straits in a blow, and for sipping coffee in a slough. She’s for the backwater eddies, the bakery runs, the weird detours, and the wide horizons. She’s for the kind of cruising that values curiosity over convenience— the kind where you come home with wet socks, full hearts, and maybe a few loaves of bread in your drybag.
As any mariner in any vessel can attest, adventures on the Salish Sea aren’t always plotted on a chart. Sometimes, they just show up—spicy, sweet, or somewhere in between, and they’re always something to savor.
Ryan Samantha Carson calls Anacortes home. She's an avid cruiser, racer, photographer, small business owner, and spends her days handling the advertising for 48° North
Surf Scoter's capability is undeniable, and very diverse.
Just a couple of lovebirds cruising their way through various fantasies. Riverboat and otherwise.
Slow cruising in small waters can be a birdwatcher's paradise.
SYC PROTECTION ISLAND AND VASHON ISLAND RACES
THE FIRST TWO EVENTS OF THE TRI-ISLAND SERIES
Seattle Yacht Club’s (SYC) Tri Island Series is a centerpiece of many racing calendars. The series runs its three races of decreasing distance in late April, mid-May, and usually early June (though this year’s final Blake Island Race is on May 31) respectively. The first two of the 2025 series—the Protection Island Race and the Vashon Island Race—drew many awesome boats and crews, and were a resounding success.
PROTECTION ISLAND
Taking place the last weekend of April, the Protection Island Race’s 80-mile out and back course provides equal parts beauty and challenge. As with any good boat race, especially one of significant distance, the challenges change each year. The fleet was split evenly between the long course and two shorter course options, with 23 boats headed all the way out to the strait, and 22 sailing the shorter courses—either a 35-mile course to Double Bluff or a 26-mile cruiser/racer course.
The crew of TP52 Glory enjoyed a lot of downwind sailing on the way to Protection Island and back, winning both line honors and their class.
A downwind start in a 10-knot southerly made for an easygoing and on-schedule kick-off of the day and the series. The overcast skies left a slate gray color palette, and bright spinnaker cloth popped against the monochrome as racers began the journey north. Al Hughes, skippering Creative in the J/105 fleet noted a slight gain to be found on the west side of Puget Sound. The whole fleet made good progress in the first few hours, with cooperative breeze and outflowing currents; but around midday, both wind and current got more complicated.
The short course boats sailed their whole day without getting substantial breeze. Some of the J/105s had intriguing roundings, as the light southerly and the then-pumping flood tide made getting around Double Bluff buoy particularly tricky—ducking out of the shore eddy and hoping to get around before the current pushed you past (or into) the buoy. Ultimately, it was a massive wind hole at Meadow Point, just before the finish, that determined the outcome for the shorter-distance sailors. The leaders parked up in the hole, and a few following boats saw exactly where not to go, sailing wide around and taking the win. After his Creative crew crossed the line first among the J/105s, Hughes said, “While we celebrated the come-from-behind victory, we also had to feel for the crews on Peer Gynt, Moose Unknown, and Liftoff who deserved better.”
The forecast transition to a westerly and then a northerly (in the Sound) did, in fact, eventually come to pass, but much of the day was spent in the uninspiring transition. Sail changes, near shore jibe battles, and the light-air version of white knuckles prevailed. Eventually, the long course boats found a building westerly in the strait, enough to scoot around Protection Island in daylight (an accomplishment in its own right in the variable conditions). A nice spinnaker run after rounding had boats cruising home, though the breeze lightened as the sun set, raising concerns about more light air spinnaker work on the way to the finish.
As night set in, a solid northerly freshened into the high teens, filling kites with real pressure and sending teams rapidly toward the finish, some were even planing their way there. TP52 Glory took line honors and the class win among the fastest boats, crossing the line just before 10:30 p.m.—an impressively quick 80 miles considering the day’s predominately light breeze. In the end, though, it was the always zippy Riptide 35 Terremoto
taking the overall long course win ahead of Glory. The short course overall win went to J/80 Jolly Green.
VASHON ISLAND
Like much of the first race of the series, the stage was set for a light air battle for those tackling the 46-mile Vashon Island circumnavigation and the 34-mile short course to Point Robinson and back. It was so light, in fact, that starts were postponed for over an hour waiting for a light southerly to materialize. When it did, a fleet of 41 boats set off southbound from Shilshole Bay, 18 sailing the long course, 15 headed to Point Robinson, and another 8 cruiser/racers sailing a 15-mile course.
When the flood set in, boats who stayed a bit east eeked out small leads. Heading into East Passage, the fleet hung closely together, but a southwesterly shift near Three Tree Point left some better positioned as they approached the rounding, according to Al Hughes reporting from the J/105 fleet. The short course return in East Passage was a run, but stayed fairly light and had the disadvantage of the flooding current.
As is so often the case, the choice of how to play the south end of Vashon had a big influence on the outcomes for the full course boats, but there was some wind to be found where it is usually in short supply. The big surprise of the day was how the breeze built above forecast as the boats headed up Colvos Passage and back toward the finish. A quick transit on the return allowed the fastest long course boats to finish before the fastest short course sailors. Spencer Kunath from TP52 Glory reported
Riptide 35 Terremoto took home the overall long course win in both the Protection Island Race and the Vashon Island Race. Impressive!
that they finished just 14 minutes shy of their own course record set in 2023, though it was TP52 Smoke who would best them for the day on corrected time. Anytime you’re finishing a Vashon Island race in time for happy hour, it’s a very good day; and considering this one started late, that is noteworthy! Terremoto once again stood atop the podium for the long course boats. Tom Andrewes's Davidson 29 Madame Pele took the overall win among the short course boats.
The series rounds out with a trip around Blake Island the weekend after Memorial Day. Congrats to all the sailors accepting these long distance challenges, sailing well, and having fun doing it!
Full results at seattleyachtclub.org
Photos by Patrick Doran.
NORTHERLIES, EBBS, AND TRANSIENTS
RACE
TO THE STRAITS 2025
Aby Kris Thompson
n 8:47 a.m. start on a crisp spring morning marked the third Race to the Straits (RTTS) aboard our Santa Cruz 27, Norn . As always, we joined a hearty chorus of real appreciation for how Sloop Tavern Yacht Club pulls this event together—it’s a remarkably organized operation from the initial horn to the final wrap-up. (And a quick plug: Shannon Renner is looking for volunteers for future races, so if you’re able, consider lending your time!) With 95 boats crossing the start line, RTTS remains one of the high water marks for participation, affection, and enthusiasm on the Pacific Northwest racing scene.
The two-day single or doublehanded event is always a great way to escape the usual Opening Day commotion on Lake Washington; and Puget Sound felt somewhat emptier for it, though the steady stream of commercial shipping continued its relentless pace.
Day one brought racers from Shilshole Bay to Port Townsend, and on day two everyone races the return trip. The chase start applies PHRF handicaps to starting times, so it is a legitimate race to the finish, and the first boat across the line wins.
As any sailor knows, if wishes were fishes, every race would be predictable. But unpredictability is part of the allure, isn’t it? Our previous two Race to the Straits on Norn had certainly delivered variety. The first was a light-air test of patience, pushing the time limits on both legs. The second served up a hearty dose of upwind sailing in 20-plus knots, made more memorable by recovering a crew overboard from a fellow race boat. This year, we were focused on a clean performance, with goals to sail fast, stay out of trouble, have fun, and finish near the front of our fleet both days.
DAY ONE: THE HUNT FOR BREEZE AND THE POINT NO POINT SHUFFLE
Saturday’s start offered light and shifty conditions, a classic Salish Sea scenario. We hoisted kites, diligently working to connect the patches of subtle cat’s paws on the water. Soon enough, a northerly filled in, shifting the game to an upwind beat in light-to-medium pressure. We made a tactical decision to play the middle of the Sound, hoping to benefit from the ebb tide. However, without other boats nearby for a reliable speed comparison, a run-in with a patch of kelp on the keel initially felt like a strategic blunder. After a quick back-down maneuver to clear the speed brake, we were back in the thick of it. It’s a good reminder that sometimes you just have to deal with the hand you’re dealt. The J/111 Hooligan made a similar recovery later
The Norn crew, Kris (left) and River.
Photo by Sean Trew.
and went on to take first across the line that day.
As it so often seems to during Race to the Straits, the wind began to fade as we approached Point No Point. Before long, the fleet looked more like a collection of toy boats drifting in positive ebb current reaching between 2 and 4 knots in places.
This seemed manageable until the geometry of the course became a pressing issue—we were on the west side of the Sound, with the mid-course gate to our east. Progress was a slow, sideways affair. Thankfully, boats farther north served as canaries, signaling the challenging conditions. A few of the leaders managed to punch through the gate at Double Bluff, while others, caught by the current, had to hoist spinnakers and actively sail south against the flow.
The northbound leg from there was a slow burn for about an hour. Some crews seemed content to point their bows generally towards Port Townsend with minimal sail adjustment, while others were in constant motion, trimming for every fraction of a knot. It’s always hard to say which approach nets out better in those tricky transitions. Adding to the morning’s sights, a pod of transient orcas passed through, seemingly leading the fleet toward better fortunes. And then, as if on cue, a fresh west-northwesterly breeze materialized, quickly building to a lively 12-18 knots. Given our sail inventory, we stuck with the J3, while many other boats, now close to the finish, held onto their bigger J1s heeling hard and doing all they could to keep it together without a full crew on the rail as ballast at the top of the range for that type of sail. The fleet began to compress, leading to a tight group finishing in Port Townsend around 3 p.m.—our earliest Race to the Straits finish to date. 42 of the 95 boats finished within 10 minutes before or after our finish! With drinks in hand, we enjoyed a classic Port Townsend sunset, and toasted a great day that left us at the top of our class for the time being. A big thank you to the event organizers for a fantastic shoreside gathering with incredible BBQ and camaraderie.
DAY TWO: DOWNWIND RUNS, ORCA ENCOUNTERS, AND A SATISFYING FINISH
Sunday morning greeted us with the same west-northwest breeze that had blown consistently through the night. We hoisted the S2 spinnaker almost immediately off the starting line and enjoyed a spirited run, sailing alongside the other modified Santa Cruz 27, Banana Stand, sailed by a great fatherson team. More orca sightings added to the day’s experience on the southbound leg.
The breeze moderated as we neared the halfway point, same as the day before, but conditions remained delightful— flat water close to shore and a pleasant 8-10 knots of breeze. Crossing back to the west side of the Sound at Point No Point, we found ourselves in a competitive pack of 12-15 boats, all jockeying for position. Among them were familiar faces like the Olson 25 Three Ring Circus, Peterson 34 Tonic, as well as our class competitors on the Pt. Bonita 27, Pell Mell
It was at this point we had one of those classic sailing realizations: we were working hard, jibing frequently near shore in good breeze, fighting to maintain 4-5 knots of progress toward the finish. Yet, just the day before, in similar conditions, we could have pointed the boat towards Port Townsend, hardly
After a couple eventful years, a pair of fairly straightforward and successful transits were welcome for the Norn crew in 2025.
touched the sails, and achieved similar speed. Sailing with, not against, the conditions certainly has its advantages; and in this region the current can be as big a factor as the wind.
A lively duel with Three Ring Circus developed as we made our final approach to Shilshole. And again, the visual was impressive—nearly 90 boats converging within a few miles of each other, a ballet of cross-jibing sails. Friends on the Paul Bieker Tri-nado Humdinger, G32 catamaran Incognito, and the J/111 Hooligan were all part of this dynamic fleet, drag racing towards the finish. All manner of multi and monohulls jibing and making close crosses right to the last. It’s a unique thrill to see boats of all shapes and sizes coming together at the culmination of a long run down from Port Townsend.
With all that variety and speed potential, it was the well sailed Westsail 32, Hula, who was the first across on this fine RTTS Sunday.
We crossed the line among the top boats, feeling a deep sense of contentment. This was our first Race to the Straits without any major setbacks or retirements, a milestone in itself. And we were very pleased to finish the weekend at the top of our class, closely followed by Express 27 Thumper and Pell Mell. The overall win for the weekend went to Tonic, who shared the overall podium with Hooligan and Humdinger
It was fantastic to see so many friends and fellow competitors out on the water, enjoying the challenge of shorthanded sailing in the Pacific Northwest. We’re already looking forward to next year’s edition.
Full results at: race.styc.org
Norn had fun crossing jibes with friends and class competitors on the Pt. Bonita 27 Pell Mell while avoiding commercial traffic.
PNW OFFSHORE
TC'S FIRST OCEAN RACE
AMAY 15: THE EARLY MORNING
Getting to the start line means crossing the infamous Columbia River Bar. Though uneventful by Columbia Bar standards, we were tossed around like tumbleweeds on the way to the start, and my crew started turning various shades of green. We all had scoplamine patches on, but seasickness still hit most of us pretty hard. Lesson #1: Put on the scopolamine patch the night before.
There were 21 boats participating in this year’s race and we started together on a virtual line—just two GPS coordinates. With no physical marks, it was impossible to visualize, and even with navigator Marc watching the chartplotter closely, we were a bit lost. So, we had the brilliant idea to follow the Club Swan 42 Free Bowl of Soup, seasoned Oregon racers who’ve won this race multiple times.
We started on port with the code zero up in the predicted west-southwesterly. It was a strong start, thanks mostly to the Soup crew. I got my marching orders from Marc to sail a compass heading of 320-340 degrees, which would take us offshore to better breeze. Then it was time to buckle up for a long race.
by Jennifer Hoag
few days before this year’s Pacific NW Offshore, from lovely Ilwaco, Washington to Victoria, British Columbia, someone asked, “What possessed you to want to do this race?” Call me crazy, but as a young and relatively inexperienced offshore sailor, I crave this kind of challenge—learning how to prep the boat, use all the safety gear, navigate, plan sails, steer through big ocean swells, and make safe decisions when things go sideways. And considering our plans to do a Hawaii race in the coming years, we were looking for a way to test both our boat and ourselves in offshore conditions.
We opted to trailer our Hobie 33, TC, down from Seattle and were still putting the mast up and doing last minute projects right up to the start on Thursday, May 15. The forecast looked promising—a light wind start in a 6- to 10-knot west-southwesterly throughout the day, shifting to south-southeasterly breeze building to the teens at night, and then continuing east as we would entered the Strait of Juan de Fuca. I went to sleep with a mix of anxious dreams—playing out every worst-case scenario—but also a kind of excitement I’d never felt before.
The boats quickly started to separate with everyone having different strategies. The Farr 39ML Absolutely and a few others sailed a higher angle with jibs, whereas those with flying sails such as Flying Tiger 10, Tigger, and the J/120s stayed lower. We tried to stay somewhere in the middle and, after a few hours, changed out the code zero with our J1 so we could sail higher. It’s a different mindset to be on the same port tack for multiple hours on end and just trying to optimize your boat’s speed.
2 PM: RAIN, GASOLINE, AND MAST CLIMBING
Sailing on a beautiful reach in light wind and big rolling waves, a strong smell of gasoline revealed a major partyfoul. On the Hobie 33, the outboard gets removed from the motor well and stored on its side in the stern. The internal tank had leaked four gallons of gas into the stern compartment, and some had made its way inside the boat.
The fumes made seasickness worse— going below was almost unbearable. I was also hesitant to use the Jetboil stove
in what felt like a very flammable boat. We spent a solid hour cleaning up the mess.
To make things worse, it started raining and barely let up for the rest of the race. We couldn’t open the hatches to air things out, so we were stuck with the fumes. It did improve over the day, but it was rough. Lesson #2: Secure gas tanks and plug any holes leading into the cabin.
We did a daytime watch schedule of 4 hours on, 4 hours off. We had five people onboard, so two up and one floater/ navigator at a time. Around 4 p.m. after a few jib/code swaps in the shifting breeze, the wind went farther south and we were ready to drop the code zero to switch to the A1.5 kite. During the drop, the halyard jumped the mast sheave and jammed. With the wind still light, we sent up fearless Esther Goodell to investigate. She quickly saw what happened but realized it couldn’t be fixed underway. We unshackled the sail, tied on a retrieval line, and secured the halyard. Thankfully, it was our fractional halyard, so we still had the masthead halyard available for spinnakers.
After that fiasco, we hoisted our kite and kept reaching in 6 to 10 knots, still getting pelted by non-stop rain, but the sailing was great.
As dusk approached, we had our A1.5 flying in a slowly-building 10- to 12knot south-southwesterly, and the boat was very happy. I heated up some dinner although most of our crew were not interested in eating yet. We turned on our navigation lights and geared up for a wet and cold night.
TC isn’t exactly a dry boat to begin with, add in the rain and the fact that every time we sent a sail down the cockpit hatch during a change, a few gallons of water came in with it. Everything was absolutely soaked in gasoline/saltwater/ rainwater soup. We also didn’t do a great job of securing our personal things down below and not even dry bags were safe in the sloshing stew. Lesson #3: Put everything in dry bags and make sure no bags/gear are sitting on the floor.
8 PM: BUILDING BREEZE AND FULL SEND MODE
Overnight, we switched to staggered
watch shifts of two hours on and two off, with a new person coming on deck every hour. We flew the A1.5 and staysail until about 2 a.m., when the breeze built to 15 to 18 knots and it was time to swap to the A2.5 and make our turn back to shore. Prepping for a jibe and peel, we decided the safest approach was to letterbox douse the A1.5, jibe with just the main, and then hoist the A2.5. It worked perfectly, sparing us any round ups in the confused sea state, but the process took probably 45 minutes in the pitch black—much longer than the quick inshore maneuvers we are more familiar with.
With the A2.5 up and winds now gusting 15 to 25 knots, we settled in for a long leg back toward Cape Flattery, where we planned to play the Washington shore. This was my favorite part of the race— cold, soaked, and grinning—driving TC under a kite in big wind and massive swells was exactly what we signed up for. We were consistently ripping along at 11 to 16 knots, chewing through miles. Full send mode.
Fun as it was, the ride wasn’t easy.
With a small, fat rudder, TC doesn’t have much grip in heavy seas. The confused, large swell often hit square on the beam, picking up the boat and spinning it, no matter how I tried to steer. I was whiteknuckling the tiller, and at one point my hand went numb. Our watch schedule fell apart around then, but with adrenaline pumping, I just kept going.
Between sloshing water in the cabin and crew collapsing into the bunks with foulies still on, all the cushions and sleeping bags were as wet as everything else. Not ideal. I was also mad at myself for choosing to leave the propane heater on the dock. Lesson #4: Only get into the bunk dry, and bring a heater.
DAWN: SHIFTING WIND, THE FINAL ROUND-UP, AND THE OH SH*T MOMENT
Fueled by meat sticks and Hi-Chews, we pushed on through the night. We needed to head toward the Cape Flattery layline to get to the Washington side, but the A2.5 couldn’t handle the angle in the breeze. We rounded-up and the kite wrapped. Time to drop it. We pulled off another clean letterbox drop and hoisted the J3, sheeting it to the toe rail as a makeshift blast reacher.
Now in “Hobie happy land,” one of our crew, Will Nelson, hit our top speed of the race just jib-reaching. It was tough driving, with big beam waves. We checked the tracker—our hard push overnight had put us in second place behind Free Bowl of Soup. Spirits were high.
That’s when things went sideways: Marc had been calling magnetic bearings, while our instruments were reading in true. We had been sailing about 20 degrees low for hours. By the time we
realized it, it was too late. We had to sheet in and start beating upwind in 22 knots to try to claw back.
We attempted a tack toward the Washington shore, but our new heading pointed us straight back to Ilwaco— not an option. We tacked back, now committed to a long, painful crossing toward Vancouver Island—straight across in full ebb, at the worst possible place to cross. Lesson #5: Don’t get stuck too far downwind of where you need to go, and understand your compass headings.
Free Bowl of Soup led the pack short tacking up the Washington side followed by Wylie 43 Hana Mari, J/121 Reva, and J/120s Pathfinder and Jugo. I tried to hold onto the saying my dad taught me, “Even if you’re going the wrong way, sail as fast as possible.”
Conditions were unfavorable, especially for the Hobie 33, with 2.5 to 3 knots of adverse current, an 18- to 22-knot southeasterly, and pouring rain. When we finally made the Vancouver Island shore, we short-tacked our way up the stunning coastline still fighting tons of current. The wind softened and we swapped to the J1, but progress towards Victoria was slow.
On the tracker, we could see a few other boats were with us on the Island side— Tigger, Wylie 48 Haven, C&C 99 Penelope, and Cascade 36 Bums Rush.
5
PM FRIDAY: SO CLOSE YET SO FAR
Our unplanned flyer to the Canadian shore, unsurprisingly, didn’t work out. We shifted focus to making Race Passage by 8 p.m.—critical timing to avoid getting stalled by current. As we approached, the wind died to 5 knots. We crept along at 4
knots with our heavily loaded Hobie not thriving in light air as it usually does. Our shot at Race Rocks slowly slipped away. Light faded, wind faded, and the rain kept falling. The cabin was just as cold, just as wet as being on deck. We were all shivering, and even the Jetboil wouldn’t light. Fifteen miles to go. This would be the coldest, wettest night of my life. By 10 p.m., completely becalmed, team morale hit a low. We talked seriously about retiring. No one had a single dry item left, and the misery was real. Still, it felt wrong to give up after 185 miles of hard work and incredible sailing. So we agreed to wait a bit longer and, at 11 p.m., the wind teased us back to life. A fragile 3 knots let us hoist the kite, and it slowly built to 8 knots. We made our way to Race Rocks and chose the outside route to play it safe since we had missed the tidal window.
But the wind faded again, and we were now fighting serious current and getting sucked dangerously close to the rocks. At 3 a.m., cold, exhausted, and going basically backwards, we made the hard call to retire. If we hadn’t been so soaked and cold, we probably would’ve finished, maybe around 7 a.m. Lesson #6: If you’re not having fun anymore, it isn’t worth it.
Arriving in Victoria, we cleared customs and were greeted at Fisherman’s Wharf with warm towels—what a lifesaver for my icicle fingers. Despite not officially finishing, I’m incredibly proud of our team and our “little Hobie that could.” We sailed well in tough conditions, overcame many challenges, and kept going far longer than comfort allowed. This event has laid a strong foundation for our team to build toward more offshore sailing.
Free Bowl of Soup finished at 7:56 p.m. on Friday with line honors and also won first overall—an amazingly well sailed race from a rock solid team that I admire so much. Congratulations! The next finishers were Pathfinder, Hana Mari, Jugo, and Tigger. Bums Rush followed, and won our class and 2nd overall—well done! I will certainly never forget my first Pacific NW Offshore, it was a big and rewarding experience. We’ll take our many important lessons from this race and put them into practice at Swiftsure, and probably learn 10 new ones!
Results can be found at cycportland.org
The brave and hardy TC crew rafted up with Absolutely.
$24,999
1947 FRIENDSHIP SLOOP
Built in Boothbay, Maine by Paul Luke in 1947. 32 feet. Located in Ventura, CA. Longleaf Yellow pine on Oak. 40 HP Westerbeke Diesel. Marconi rigged with a jib, mainsail, self tending staysail, and drifter. E-mail for more information and photos. » Contact Peter Wood
• (805) 320-4412 • peterwoodboats@gmail.com
• $24,999
$60,000
CAMPO DESIGN '81 34'x11'x6' WOOD CUTTER ABRAZO EXPEDITION YACHT
150 hrs. Beta diesel. 140g. water 160g. water- all stainless tankage. Fleming Globemaster vane, Skookum Canvas dodger/boom tent all chain rode, 2 8-D batteries, solar. 12 v. Fridge Freeze. Single side band, woodstove. Fir deck. » Contact Michael Nurco
This is a world capable yacht, ready to take you cruising. Beautiful yacht in really good condition. She is cutter rigged with oversized rigging and extra cockpit winches. Major equipment has been replaced or renewed. She is cruise equipped. Location is Orcas Island, WA. » Contact Tom Owens • (360) 632-8896 • svlandsend@yahoo.com • $110,000 (Private Sale)
$16,000
Perkins 18 HP Diesel, Pedestal Steering, 100 & 130 Jibs, tri sail, main, dodger, wheel and sail covers, and a wing keel. » Contact Mark • (206) 784-4474 • mjquam2@q.com • $16,000
1941 ED MONK SR. 41' TRI-CABIN TRAWLER M/V PUGET LADY
A well preserved & maintained pre-WWII, Ed Monk Sr., Pacific NW tri-cabin trawler. We are the 5th owners, keeping her these past 24 yrs in a Port Angeles boathouse. M/V Puget Lady has been moored under cover her entire life. She is hauled annually for inspection and maintenance. » Contact Tom Magwire • (206) 910-8198 • tjmltd@olypen.com • $60,000
41' DEFEVER 41 1983
Classic tri-cabin PNW cruiser. Great liveaboard or long-distance cruiser for WA to SE Alaska waters. Twin Volvo engines, Onan genset. Large master with walk-around queen bed and head. Forward large V-berth with separate head. Upper and lower helms. Email for link to more pictures: orcassail@gmail.com.
Schattauer Main & Furling 95 Jib. N. Sails Gennaker. 2005 Westerbeke 12C engine, approx. 400 hours. Propane 4 burner stove and heater. Autopilot & Radio. Kitchen and head sinks w/cold water supply. Head: Raritan w/Septic tank. West Marine 10-ft dingy w/ center seat–never used. 2nd owner since ’94. Engine maintained yearly. Bottom painted every 2 years.
» Contact Steve Marx • srmarx@comcast.net
• $8,950 OBO
$8,500 FOR SALE 1994 CATALINA 270
2016 BILL GARDEN TOMCAT 12' CATBOAT
“TOM” is a Garden 12’ catboat he designed for himself. Port Orford cedar carvel planked on bent white oak frames, epoxy encapsulated, BRZ fastened and epoxy glued. Hull covered with 6 oz glass cloth, deck and cuddy with Dynel. Sitka spruce mast and spars. Dabbler sail. Full cover. TrailEx alum trailer. Located Camas WA. » Contact Ronald Render • (619) 817-5669 • boatman.usna@gmail.com • $8,500
$14,000
1966 32’ PEARSON VANGUARD SLOOP
Selling my lovely Pearson as have a new boat. I bought it three years ago and have the survey. It came with a VHF radio, radar, composting toilet, Diesel heater, propane stove, three extra sails, auto pilot device for the tiller and more. It can come with a Walker Bay dinghy and a Honda engine. Located near Fisherman’s Terminal in Seattle. The slip is not transferable. » Contact Andree Hurley • suertepearson@gmail.com • $14,000
$8,750
SCAMP WOODEN SAILBOAT
Scamp kit built by experienced craftsman. Only sailed five times. Both wood and aluminum mast, boom and spar. White and tanbark sails. Oars with carbon fiber shafts. Custom galvanized trailer with mounted spare. Always stored in garage. » Contact sorteb@peak.org • $8,750
Turn you dream into reality! Priced to sell quickly: solid fiberglass sloop w/ genoa, jib, spinnaker & pole, cockpit cover, autopilot, galley, head, 8.5 hp Honda outboard. In the water at Everett Marina, slip is transferable. Built before they started using spray-on fiberglass. Have owned for 25 years, sailed all over Salish Sea. Would consider trade for kayaks, pick-up, trailerable boat. » Contact Mark Glidden • (425) 892-5015 • evy.dudey@gmail.com • $2,750
$20,000
1981 28+ ERICSON ELECTRIC MOTOR SLOOP
Edmonds, end U dock. NEW: electric motor/controller (THOOSA 7000), 12 Dragonfly 24V 50Ah propulsion, 48V system, max prop, sails, lazy jacks, dodger, whisker pole, canvas, life lines, cushion covers, hatch, sensors, propane tank & more. 28 nm range at 4 kts. Solar panel array. Zodiac 320. New Head. Bottom Paint/zincs 8/23. » Contact Susan S. Miller • (206) 605-3433 • susansmiller@mac.com • $20,000
1983 COMFORT 38 MOTOR SAILER S/V MARTHA ROSE
$13,900
1978 ISLANDER 28
For sale by owner of last 13 years. Mahogany interior. Yanmar 18HP diesel with 200 hours. New bottom paint May 2024. Too many upgrades to mention here. Bainbridge Island. » Contact Garry Sobeck • (619) 888-0274 • garrysobeck@comcast.net • $13,900
$135,000
Amazing performance cruiser for Salish Sea or offshore. Blue water vet: Mexico, Hawaii and Alaska. Excellent condition with all the gear: near new Yanmar 4JH57 (160 hrs) direct drive; aux fuel tank; MAX prop; watermaker; ESPAR hydronic heat; RADAR; AIS; power winch for main, Etc. Does it all with ease: single handed, with crew or family. Contact for full listing info. » Contact Dave Stromquist • (360) 606-9043 • dstromquist@comcast.net • $135,000
Well respected classic 1968 boat. Balanced under sail, tracks well. Rigged to single hand, roller-furled jib, 2 main reefs. Fully encased lead keel. Thick, solid fiberglass hull. Simple, comfortable interior. Good candidate for off-shore or rough weather. $35K invested in last 3 years refurbishing. Ready to cruise; just add food and water. Located in Port Townsend, WA. E-mail for more info. » Contact Scott Walker • walkers@olympus.net • $15,900 $15,900
Ketch
$49,900
30' YANKEE ONE SLOOP SAILBOAT
Master Mariner award winning, designed by William Starling Burgess/Stone built. Wooden hull. Roller furler. Flame totally restored in 2015. Complete survey in 2023 available. “A Sailor’s Sailboat”. Located in Richmond, CA. Classic wood racing sloop. » Contact Bob • stefroche916@gmail.com • $49,900
Ocean cruising liveaboard whose every owner since new has used her for that purpose. As such, she has been equipped, maintained and updated for that purpose constantly. She is ready for her new owners to continue that mission. This is a lot of boat for the money. www.yachtworld.com/yacht/1986-ta-chiao-ct-49-9451679/ » Contact Christopher P. Harry • (206) 503-9568 • sv.scintilla@gmail.com • $129,000 $129,000
1977 ALAJUELA 38 MK 1
Upgrades (2019 – 2022) include engine (Beta 43), Navionics Suite, Solar, standing / running rigging, roller furling genoa, main and staysail. Monitor self steering, new max prop 4 blade, new electrical switchboard and cabling throughout. Completed 12 month circumnavigation 2022-2023. Ready for more. Complete list of upgrades and recent surveys available. » Contact Douglas Wertz • (509) 438-1151 • dougwertz55@gmail.com • $79,900
25’ GAFF RIGGED CUTTER S/V TULLAMORE BUILT IN PORT TOWNSEND (1997)
A William Adkin designed gaff-rigged cutter built at the NW School of Wooden Boat Building in Port Townsend circa 1997. She is 25’5” LOA, with a 7’10” beam and 3’10” draft. She carries four sails and easily sleeps three. She is powered by a low-hour 15hp Yanmar diesel with Raymarine ST2000+ auto pilot, Garmen Echomap DV with GPS and depth indicator. Needs a little TLC. In La Conner. » Contact Ross Mayberry • (206) 735-9592 • rossmayberry13@gmail.com • $10,000 OBO $10,000
WILLIAM GARDEN 1972 QUEST V FAMILY CRUISING TRAWLER Commissioned by Bill Garden as a family cruising boat for passage making. Built by the highly regarded Philbrooks boat yard in Sydney BC in 1972. Boat has spent its cruising life in British Columbia to Alaska. Commissioned by Dave and Irene Myers with exceptional details, and well built and constructed. Well maintained with many upgrades by second owner. Serious inquiries only. » Contact Tom Baldwin • (707) 387-7741 • tmbaldwin@me.com • $575,000
30' PEARSON COASTER
CT49 - OCEAN CRUISING LIVEABOARD SCINTILLA
CORONADO 27' 1970
2003 JEANNEAU SUN ODYSSEY 40
$18,900
1978 PACIFIC SEACRAFT 25-2
Sailboat with excellent trailer and tremendous amount of gear ready for someone handy to put it all together. Yanmar 2YM15 with 1.5 hours on it, two furlers, 6 sails, cockpit and interior cushions, two anchors, wind vane self steering and Raymarine tiller pilot, Furuno radar, propane system parts. Too many parts to list – contact me for link to photos » Contact Todd Chandler • (541) 992-9289 • todd@ chandlermarineservices.com • $18,900
$24,500
Original owners of this classic Islander 36. We purchased the boat in 1981 new from the dealer. It has a rare mahogany interior, black mast, ivory hull with red trim. We re-powered in 2010 with a Yanmar 30, It has a fuler bow roller, and a new jib purchased in 2017. This is a great sailing and family boat. Currently dry docked in Anacortes. » Contact Jack Lane • (206) 276-2403 • j3lane@aol.com • $24,500
VESSEL MOVING
MARINE EQUIPMENT
SIDNEY,BC
A Leader in Brokerage Sales on the West Coast (619) 224-2349 • Fax (619) 224-4692 • 2330 Shelter Island Dr. #207 San Diego, CA 92106 www.yachtfinders.biz • info@yachtfinders.biz
REDUCED
70’ SANTA CRUZ 70 ’87
$299,000
....................
“WESTERLY” Completely updated with no expense spared.An excellent opportunity to obtain a very up-to-date SC 70 and get sailing now.
66’ GORBON 66 ’97
$450,000
....................
“BAJAVENTO” A luxurious performance vessel that can easily be sailed shorthanded. Professionally maintained. Cruise in style and comfort.
46’ TAYANA 460 PILOTHOUSE ’02
$315,000
.........................
“PEREGRINE”One owner boat custom-built for seller. She has sailed the South Pacific and is updated and ready for another extended cruise.
MONTEREY
70’ SANTA CRUZ 70 ’85 $250,000 “CHARDONNAY III”Turnkey Subchapter T vessel ready for business. Swift boat with charter slip and management available.
54’ ROBERTS 54 ’79 $225,000 “SPIRIT” Rugged bluewater vessel designed for comfort and safety. Nicely upgraded. Certified up to 42 passengers.
REDUCED
49’ OCEAN CATAMARAN 49 ’00 $159,000 “LICKETYSPLIT”Fast-cruising catamaran recently updated with new sails and electronics. She’s priced to sell NOW!
45’ HUNTER 450 PASSAGE ’98 $105,000 “PLANB”The ultimate live-aboard cruiser. No compromise on space and comfort. Liveaboard slip possible.
NEW LISTING
44’ KELLY PETERSON 44 ’81 $79,000 “BRAMASOLE” The quintessential cruiser. Well-cared for with newer rigging, rebuilt engine and upgraded electronics.
Bracewell Pacesetter 540
Ithaka 2000 Duffy 45 $399,000
To those who know, a true Down East lobster yacht is the ultimate blend of form and function. Designed by renowned Down East architect Spencer Lincoln and built by Atlantic Boat Company, Ithaka’s classic New England work boat lines stand out in any harbor. The Duffy 42 was conceived as a work boat with a large cockpit and protected house to serve as a commercial lobster vessel. Her “built down” hull form provides a stable ride through the worst seas, easily powered by her Lugger engine. But she’s not all work boat. Ithaka’s spacious cockpit (three feet longer than originally designed) functions as an extension of her main salon. Her interior is warm and inviting. Two spacious cabins provide comfortable accommodations for six, complemented nicely by a generously sized head with separate shower stall.
