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This Grand Banks 42 Classic has long been a dream.
A destinations-focused recap of an awesome group journey.
Adventuring by small boat to breathtaking Princess Louisa Inlet.
Several ways to enjoy boating without ownership.
Fundamentals are key when assessing a dead diesel on the water.
A day afloat changes when encountering a capsized kayaker.
A week of champagne sailing, competition, and camaraderie.
Have you heard of the herd? Cow Bay delivers again.
Fun and intriguing as always, with one outstanding performance.
THE COVER: 48° North Cruising Rally participants settled in for a magical night at Patos Island's Active Cove. One of the most remote and sought-after anchorages in the San Juans, Active Cove lived up to the hype (story on p 32). Photo by Joe Cline.
Background photo courtesy of Jan Anderson.
Editor
WHAT WOULD YOU DO?
I lounged in the cockpit of my friend Ed’s elegant Tiara Coronet 3100, swaying gently on the hook on the north side of BC’s Russell Island on the third day of the 48° North Cruising Rally. We had just strolled the island, were awestruck by the thousand-year-old clam gardens, explored the historic homestead and orchard, and had returned to Ed’s boat where we were relishing happy hour refreshments (with ice!) and casual boat-centric conversation. Our great hardship was having to intermittently adjust the umbrella that was shielding us from the exquisite afternoon sun. It was about as good as it gets.
Soon, my pal and rally co-conspirator, Chuck, pulled up to the swim-step in the dinghy. The small-talk was cut short when he informed us, “There’s been a major earthquake off the coast of Russia, an 8.8. A tsunami could be possible.” Whoa. We had cell service, and every face immediately bowed over the nearest screen with hope of learning more.
We quickly began the “what if” scenarios. Our rally fleet was anchored in 20-30 feet of water with, frankly, questionable holding—when setting, we drug anchor on a rocky shelf twice before finally finding a decent hold on the third try. We discovered that the standard tsunami recommendation is to head for deeper water, far from obstructions. Some internet sleuthing turned up predictions suggesting likely the likely arrival window would be between 11:30 p.m. to 1:30 a.m. that night.
So then, I grilled steaks. With several hours before any possible tsunami activity, we gathered in the perfect summer twilight for a potluck aboard the biggest boat on the rally, a magnificent Waterline 50—weather, surroundings, and company way too nice for the end of the world. Over dinner, as you might expect, there was plenty of discussion about the prospects of a tsunami and what we should do. Emergency BC’s Tsunami Advisory showed a zone map of affected areas that ended at the island just a couple miles south of where we were. We talked a lot about how even a small wave could amount to a significant current effect, but were optimistic that reports from the coast might give us a sense of what was to come.
By the time everyone dinghied back to their boats, we had a plan. The risks didn’t seem high enough to assign everyone an all-nighter underway in deep water. We’d wait and see, with phones and VHFs on, and I’d stay awake through the window to communicate relevant news. If there was any kind of event, we’d pull anchor rapidly, gather a few hundred yards outside the anchorage, and head together to nearby Swanson Channel.
Back on my rally ride, I set out lifejackets, tethers, and lights on the salon table and incessantly refreshed news in every way I could. I checked government websites in the US and Canada. Channel 16’s blanket VHF tsunami advisory popped up every half hour. Eventually, a 4-foot wave reportedly hit Hawaii, but there were no reports on the west coast of North America. The time for landfall at Neah Bay came and went, no news. Port Angeles, nothing. Port Townsend and Victoria, silence. I was pretty disappointed that there were so few updates, but I hoped it meant that any real worry was dissipating.
48º North
Volume XLV, Number 2, September 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
48° North encourages letters, photographs, manuscripts, burgees, and bribes. Emailed manuscripts and high quality digital images are best!
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,
By 1:45, I started to doze, awakened by the slightest rock of the boat or periodic VHF call, prompting me to check our Navionics track to see if we’d dragged. At 2:30, I turned off the VHF and slept restlessly. I awoke relieved to see through the morning haze that we were in the same spot, and all rally boats were safely nearby. Another rally participant heard a VHF alarm around 3 a.m. and thought they felt a small wave.
Our blissful week of cruising in the San Juan and Gulf islands had included a real-life tsunami drill. As is often true in cruising and sailing, to appreciate the boundaries of your knowledge and experience—and how little you actually can control—all you need to do is pay attention. How would you have addressed that little pickle?
Joe Cline Managing Editor, 48° North
Prices vary for international or first class.
Proud members:
50’ S&S Classic
50’ Santa Cruz
50’ Solaris
44’ Worldcruiser
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LETTERS 10
From The Bay to Lake Washington, and Soon to Chelan
Ahoy 48° North,
I am planning a boat-in camping/sailing trip on Chelan with my son aboard our Aquarius 21. The purpose of our trip is a “last hurrah” before my son ships out for the Navy. I learned how to sail on San Francisco Bay, but we mostly sail on Lake Washington now. Although we have recreated on Chelan, I’ve never actually sailed the lake.
I just finished reading Sharon Podlich’s article “Sailing Lake Chelan” from the December 2020 edition of 48° North. It proved most helpful.
Thank you,
Eric Trout
Model Shown Beta 38
Engineered to be Serviced Easily!
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
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Deer Harbor Boatworks Deer Harbor, WA • 844-792-2382 customersupport@betamarinenw.com www.betamarinenw.com
Boaters Take Note: Columbia River Survey in Process
Hello 48° North,
As a fan of your publication, I thought it might be interesting to let you know that the Columbia River is being completely surveyed, from the CR buoy all the way to the Bonneville Dam!
I happen to be one of three captains working on vessels owned by Vancouver, WA, based David Evans and Associates. This is a long and detailed task directed by NOAA. We will be very visible to the boating community performing dual and single beam visualization of the Columbia and tributaries.
Just an FYI, and take care!
Capt. M S “Scott” Rich
Continued Response to Sheridan Ferguson’s Overboard Story in the April 2025 Issue
Hi Joe,
Recently, I ran into a friend I hadn’t seen for a long time. We got to talking about sailing, and eventually he went to his car and brought back the April edition of 48° North, which includes Sheridan Ferguson’s article. I recalled you mentioning how hard it was to cut the story for length because it was too good to cut, and shared that note with him. And then, I appreciated the occasion to read it again. Sheridan’s article will be listed among the most impactful that the magazine has printed.
Thank you, Sue Weiss
ON-WATER TRAINING WITH NORTH U COACHES ON BOARD
ELEVATE YOUR RACE PERFORMANCE ON J/80s
The North U Performance Race Week is an intensive five day clinic designed to elevate your competitive sailing skills. The curriculum covers every facet of racing trim, helming, and boat handling, with special attention given to tactical decision-making. Participants receive on-the-water coaching aboard J/80s, combined with comprehensive shoreside seminars and detailed video reviews. You will improve your skills in every facet of racing trim, tactics, boat handling, and driving; and return home a better, more versatile racer.
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
News from Northwest Maritime
48° North has been published by the nonprofit Northwest Maritime since 2018. We are continually amazed and inspired by the important work of our colleagues and organization, and dedicate this page to sharing more about these activities with you.
SO MUCH TO LOOK FORWARD TO AT THE PORT TOWNSEND WOODEN BOAT FESTIVAL
SEPTEMBER 5-7, 2025
EDITORS' SEMINAR PICKS
For anyone who has visited the Wooden Boat Festival, it goes without saying that the seminars are a huge draw. If you're new to the event, be sure to mark your calendars with the presentations that speak to you. Your 48° North editors have assembled the following list of seminars that pique our interest as Festival and boat lovers.
Thursday, September 4:
A Detailed Look at DIY Engine Maintenance: 8:00 a.m. Technical Stage
Advanced Medical Prep: 11:00 a.m. Innovation Stage
Considerations for Safe Lithium Systems: 1:45pm Boatbuilding Stage
» www.woodenboat.org
WOMEN AND THE WIND
SAT 9/6, 6:30 P.M. SCREENING AND Q&A WITH KIANA WEITZIEN
“The unknown is scary. But it's not scary anymore as soon as you let it go. As soon as you dive in... Sometimes I felt worried, but I never felt afraid, because you're fighting for your life, but in a positive way; in an intrinsic human, animal way. Surpassing fear.”
I recently had the privilege to enjoy an early screening of one of the centerpieces of this year's Festival—the feature length documentary “Women and the Wind.” This deeply personal story chronicles a 30 day, 2,250 mile North Atlantic crossing on a Wharram catamaran. I can't recommend it highly enough.
The atmospheric soundtrack builds a foundation onto which scene after scene of stunning videography is layered. Ask me how many magazine covers I could make from snaps in this film, and I wouldn't be able to count. It is one of the most visually striking portrayals of life at sea available anywhere.
Captain Kiana Weitzien is one of a kind and yet, in her competence, I hear echoes of other sea going women whose salty skills and sturdy resolve marked them for international renown. Her shipmates embrace the lifestyle of rugged ocean passagemaking in their own way and with their own challenges, each seeming to glean as much from Weitzien's commitment as her skills. Genuinely inspiring.
As a sailor, I found some aspects bracing, but only appropriately so. Honest, harshly beautiful, invigorating, trying, ambivalent— it's a reminder of so many things adventure-minded sailors seek, intertwined with realities we may not like to focus on with too much clarity. I didn't watch their Wharram catamaran cross an ocean and wish it were mine. Yet, I'm sure glad it was their choice.
As the film nears its conclusion, there's a scene where the three sailors swim from the boat in the middle of the ocean after a lengthy storm. For the voyagers and viewers alike, the joy and release are palpable, and window into such depth of sea, relationship, and emotion stands alone in its magic.
Don't miss this special presentation of “Women and the Wind” at the Wooden Boat Festival. But be careful, you might feel like cutting your docklines shortly thereafter. - Joe Cline
» www.woodenboat.org
low tides » News & Events
FALL BOATS AFLOAT SHOW ADDING TWO ATTRACTIONS
The 2025 Fall Boats Afloat Show docks at Seattle’s scenic South Lake Union on September 11-14 with more than 100 power and sailing craft. Along with boats, accessories, marine services, and offerings from local artists and craftspeople, there is plenty to do for the entire family with special weekend attractions, more than 25 hours of live music and tasty food and beverage choices.
Added attractions include the colorful Emerald City Tiki Boat, bringing a South Seas cruise “vibe” to the show with free rides for showgoers Saturday and Sunday at 11 a.m., noon, 1 p.m. and 2 p.m. Space is limited for each cruise. On the same days, there will be free Kid’s Boat Building with the Center for Wooden Boats from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m. with all the supplies provided. Tickets are on sale now at » www.boatsafloatshow.com
BEATS ON THE BAY 2025: A FLOATING CONCERT SERIES ON BELLINGHAM BAY
Join fellow boaters and community members for a magical, music-filled summer on the water as the Community Boating Center and the Schooner Zodiac proudly present Beats on the Bay, a one-of-a-kind floating concert series taking place on beautiful Bellingham Bay. This year’s lineup features an exciting mix of genres and performers that bring soulful sounds and global rhythms to the sea. Each concert begins at 6:00 p.m. and wraps up by 8:00 p.m.
SEPTEMBER 3: MASANGO+UKAMA
World-renowned multi-instrumentalist Zivanai Masango and vocalist Helen team up with local marimba band Ukama to bring vibrant and rhythmic sounds from Zimbabwe and Southern Africa in a powerful and joyful musical experience.
SEPTEMBER 10: SMOOTH KIWI
An alternative psychedelic pop-rock band with groovedriven jams, silky vocals, funky bass, and lush atmospheric guitar and synth textures. Like a fresh kiwi: vibrant, sweet, and deeply satisfying.
Find out more at » schoonerzodiac.com/floating-concerts and » boatingcenter.org .
REMINDER: PITCH REGATTA MOVING TO SEPTEMBER 12-14
This year, Bellingham Yacht Club (BYC) celebrates the 51 st anniversary of the PITCH Regatta on Bellingham Bay, which entices sailors from Olympia to British Columbia in boats from TP52s to onedesign fleets. New for 2025 is the date shift away from its historic position over Labor Day Weekend, and now PITCH will be held September 12-14.
Visiting competitors will again be greeted by the welcome boat with cold beers, and will then celebrate racing, boats, and each other at the beautiful BYC clubhouse and bar over the weekend. BYC manages the competition in accordance with PHRF rules, and is a qualifying race in 48° North’s annual Top 25. One of the oldest regattas in the region, PITCH is a proud member of the North Sound Party Circuit. Come for the wind, stay for the party! » byc.org
SLOOP TAVERN YC TO TAKE OVER ORGANIZATION OF SNOWBIRD SERIES FROM SHILSHOLE BAY YC
Sloop Tavern Yacht Club (STYC) and Shilshole Bay Yacht Club (SBYC) are pleased to announce that the helm of the Snowbird Race Series has been handed over to STYC after four decades of SBYC’s dutiful stewardship and leadership in this storied winter series.
Over the years, STYC and SBYC have forged a bond through shared values, overlapping membership, and collaborative events. The Snowbird is a race series that tests a sailor’s skills and resolve in conditions that are frequently challenging but always rewarding. They are races that temper and harden a sailor during the unpredictable, frequently frigid, winter season.
STYC will maintain the SARC published dates for the 2025/2026 season set by SBYC—with Snowbird #1 taking place November 15—and would like to welcome SBYC members aboard the committee boat to help celebrate the passing of the torch. If interested in volunteering on the committee boat and being part of this tradition, please contact: » volunteer@styc.org or » vice-commodore@styc.org
low tides » In the Biz
NEW OWNERSHIP AND ENERGY AT NORTH SAILS SEATTLE
North Sails Seattle is an independentlyowned franchise of the world’s largest sail manufacturer and, as of August 1, 2025, this local sail loft has new owners. Accomplished sailors Alyosha StrumPalerm and Tim Scanlon have purchased the business from longtime proprietor Jack Christiansen, who has owned and operated North Sails Seattle since 1995. The loft itself has a legacy that predates the affiliation with North Sails—and its long history of service, sailing savvy, and community support is sure to continue in this new ownership era.
Regular 48° North readers will be familiar with Alyosha, who has written articles on numerous occasions, including reporting on his adventures as part of the Red Ruby team of local shorthanded offshore racers enjoying remarkable success against top European competition. Alyosha’s skills and talents as a racing sailor blossomed as soon as he caught the bug at sailing camp around 11 years old. He has spent several recent years sailing professionally both locally and abroad, as well as working in yacht management—working alongside some of the region’s most renowned pros, Erik Soper and Jonathan McKee, each of whom Alyosha is humbled to call a mentor. His professional sailing opportunities continue to expand, but Alyosha is the first to say that his top priority has been to find work locally into which he can pour his passion and contribute to the local sailing community. As Sales Manager and owner of North Sails Seattle, he’s found a great opportunity to do so.
Tim grew up in Ohio and relocated to Seattle—where his wife attended graduate school—in 2022. A lifelong sailor, Lightning North American Champion (at a regatta he also happened to organize), and offshore navigator, Tim jumped into the Seattle sailing scene with both feet by buying a Tasar and competing at the Tasar Worlds held here shortly thereafter. Immediately plugged in with some of the area’s best sailors, including Alyosha, Tim started quietly looking for a business to buy. His professional background includes diligence service for private
equity and consulting for mergers and acquisitions, but business ownership has increasingly been his goal. He said of his new ownership position with North Sails Seattle: “You get very connected to the sailing community when you help someone fix their sail, choose a new sail, or chase their racing or cruising dreams. That presence in the community combined with business potential is a compelling proposition.” Tim will be less visible to North Sails Seattle customers day-to-day, but will remain active in the administrative backend where he will utilize his business experience.
Consistency and continuity of the loft’s existing services to local sailors is job one for the new owners. Luckily, they’ll have excellent help in this endeavor. Outgoing North Sails Seattle owner, Jack Christiansen, will stay on to assist with the transition and pass along some of his considerable expertise over the coming six months. And long-tenured Service Manager, Kerry Sherwin, is enthusiastic to carry on his 18 years of sailmaking experience in this loft with new colleagues, and welcomes the new energy and ideas. It’s clear how much Tim and Alyosha value Kerry’s contributions. Tim stated plainly, “Kerry is the most important part of our loft’s service.” And Alyosha elaborated, “There’s not a ton of
super skilled sailmakers anywhere , and we’re very lucky to have Kerry.”
Building on the loft’s successes, Tim and Alyosha have an array of ideas they’re eager to explore to serve the sailing community in new ways. Some of those include tangible services, but some of it just comes in support, ingenuity, and inspiration. One example: Alyosha is enthusiastic about helping more people with sailboats sail more and motor less. As a Race to Alaska winner, he has certainly seen what’s possible without an engine, but he also believes that a combination of technique and tools that better fit our region’s predominant conditions can help sailors feel more confident making miles under sail.
Aside from the ownership change, much about North Sails Seattle remains the same—from its location above Fisheries Supply at the north end of Seattle’s Lake Union to its phone and email contacts, from the the quality of design and construction of its cruising and racing sails to its commitment to serve and support the sailing community of the Pacific Northwest. With Tim and Alyosha at the helm now, the local North loft is sure to have telltales flowing as it sails into the future.
Kerry (L), Alyosha (C), and Tim (R) are eager to start this new era of North Sails Seattle.
CROSSWORD AND TRIVIA
DID YOU KNOW?
by Bryan Henry
The largest reptile is the saltwater or estuarine crocodile of the Indian and Pacific Oceans. It can grow to 23 feet long and weigh nearly a ton.
The largest land animal on Antarctica is a tiny wingless fly.
The emperor penguin is the largest seabird and the hardiest, living on Antarctic ice pack and enduring subzero temperatures and hurricane-force winds.
The world’s most northerly-living penguins inhabit the Galapagos Islands, which are on the equator.
North America’s smallest marine mammals, sea otters, spend virtually their entire lives at sea, coming ashore only during severe storms.
23 Undulating movement of the surface of the open sea
25 The boat’s deepest point measured from the waterline
27 V-shaped line, wire, or rope attached to the boat’s mooring system
1 Island group in the Indian Ocean (tourist paradise)
2 Improvised floating platforms
3 Freezing, 2 words 4 ____ hitch: type of knot
5 An anchor carried at a ship’s front (bow).
6 Recently discovered
7 Stuck on the bottom of a body of water 10 Strike
14 Lawn Tennis association, for short
15 Adjust the sails relative to the wind
18 Knot used to create a secure loop at the end of a rope that won’t slip or jam
20 Cocktail with gin and vermouth
22 Providing that
24 Periods of calm between storms
26 Prison on a naval vessel
27 Bottom of the ocean
28 Quick swim
30 Colorful pond fish
32 Golden state, abbr.
Sea anemones have lived for 100 years without signs of aging.
The largest recorded underwater walk by a tagged lobster was 225 miles.
The Pacific ridley is the smallest sea turtle, measuring about 28 inches long and weighing about 80 pounds.
Many marine worms have two, five, six and even eight eyes.
If a sea sponge is forced through a mesh, separated cells can reorganize into new sponges.
The first plants on earth, algae, developed in the oceans about 3,500 million years ago.
The money cowrie, a seashell, was for many centuries accepted currency in various parts of the world.
Shanghaied is a
low tides » Products News
» MUSTANG SURVIVAL ELITE 120 AND 190
Mustang Survival recently announced two highly-anticipated additions to their inflatable PFD range: the Elite 120 and Elite 190. These inflatable PFDs build on the revolutionary design of the award-winning Atlas 190 DLX Life Jacket and introduce the same cutting-edge ADAPT bladder technology in lighter, versatile profiles. Designed for all-day wear, the ergonomic chassis of the Elite series sits off the neck, which is ideal for anglers, high-speed boaters, and serious coastal sailors. Both models use the Hammar MA1 inflator featuring Hydrostatic Inflator Technology (HIT), exclusive to Mustang Survival’s North American-approved products. Designed to activate only when submerged below 4-feet of water, HIT ensures that humidity, rain, or spray won’t cause accidental inflation and remains maintenance-free for up to 5 years.
At sea or at home, the Starpath USB Baro is an ideal way to keep track of atmospheric pressure, as well as your COG, SOG, and position. Its user-friendly software interface surpasses the functionality of electronic marine barometers and the output is in NMEA format, so it can also be read directly by any navigation program including in OpenCPN, qtVlm, Expedition, Coastal Explorer, TimeZero, and more. You can also run the device in Starpath’s Marine Barograph app for Mac or PC, which also lets you broadcast the pressure (and your position if your computer knows it) to other nearby devices. The USB Baro is accurate to better than ± 1.5 mb over the full range of ocean or terrestrial pressures at standard temperatures, and generally better than that at elevations below 2,000 feet. If more precisely accurate pressure is known, the device can be calibrated by the user.
Price: $49.00 » www.store.starpath.com
» OCEANMEDIC 911 INSHORE MEDICAL KIT
Having a first aid kit aboard your boat is a requirement, but it’s also important to make sure that your kit is comprehensive enough for your type of adventuring. The OceanMedic 911 Inshore Medical Kit is an advanced kit that contains essential items to treat common injuries and basic life-threatening emergencies—over 280 items in total. Developed by physician and hospital quality brand names, Latex free, and approved by the US Coast Guard, the kits are designed with individual injury specific color-coded med packs for ease of use in an emergency. Each med pack is in a waterresistant, resealable pouch that lists contents on the bag, and you can reorder each med pack separately, so you do not need to purchase the complete kit again—only purchase what you use. The NANUK waterproof hard case is virtually indestructible, lightweight, watertight, submersible, and even floats. Each case comes with the Red Cross Emergency First Aid Reference Guide for treating injuries.
Price: $229.00 » www.ocean-medic.com
Photo: Richard Marshall
CASTING OFF 22 CHECK-OUT TIME
ENJOYING A BOAT WITHOUT OWNERSHIP
by David Casey
In some ways, boats are like books—they can provide a great adventure, an escape, or merely a few hours of relaxation. They can be an invitation to view the world differently, challenge the user to learn and grow, or even help them to overcome adversity.
Extending the metaphor, if boats were kept in a “boat library,” you could check them out with your “marina card.” You might select one simply based on its appearance, a rigorous comparison to dozens of alternatives, or a friend’s recommendation. Maybe you could keep one for a few days; or simply opt for a quick trial on a long, lazy afternoon before returning it to the lender, allowing someone else to enjoy it soon thereafter.
Despite those similarities, it took me a while to think of boats as books, choosing ownership as my first foray over chartering or renting. Even though we were new to Puget Sound and boating in general, regular 48° North readers will recall that my wife Laura and I bought a modest sailboat about four years ago. We may have gotten lucky with our half-century old Columbia 28, Ariel. She was affordable, forgiving, and easy to sail. Sure, her engine was fickle, she lacked systems like a roller furler for the jib, the head was tiny, and she hated going upwind. But for first-time boat owners, she was just what we needed and was within our capabilities.
Like reading a great book, we were indeed challenged, entertained, and engaged. But after recently selling Ariel, Laura and I have reassessed boat ownership in favor of leasing and borrowing club boats, much like the library model. Financially, the cost is about the same, but the benefits are different, with education and new opportunities finding their way into the mix.
Two aspects of our new approach are so ideal that we’re not sure why we didn’t think of them before. Although our lack of experience and knowledge of sailing probably had something
to do with it—reminding me of the adage of “wishing I knew then what I know now.”
One of the options is to check out a small sailboat from our yacht club’s inventory. While we knew that the use of their Cal 20s was part of the association’s monthly membership dues, we never had the occasion to check out any of them—until now. With Ariel in the hands of new owners, our club’s feature is a great way to continue sailing in the summer months.
An on-the-water training session was required prior to checking out one of the four vessels in their fleet. Initially, I found the requirement unnecessary, given my time aboard our sturdy 28-foot sloop. But after completing the practice session, I found myself grateful for the additional training.
As if on cue to support our frustration with the lack of consistent sailing conditions in the Pacific Northwest, gusty winds up to 25 knots canceled our originally scheduled training session with Dave, one of our former dockmates. The followup date was nearly scrapped for the opposite reason, with the wind at a mild 4 knots. But since the small, swift craft responds well to light winds, we proceeded.
Dave and his wife, Patty, own an Erickson 38, Wavewalker, along with their own Cal 20, Sunseeker. I found Dave’s experience, complemented by patient and thorough instruction, a valuable asset as we adapted the skills and knowledge of sailing techniques, terminology, and safety we’d developed on Ariel to the Cal 20 Iris Iris and the three other Cal 20s spend summers at the marina guest dock, ready for check-out by any club member seeking an afternoon adventure on Commencement Bay.
In addition to providing instruction to new users, Dave races his Cal 20 in our club’s summer series. His vast experience proved to be practical for pleasure sailing as well. For example, though not actually sailing (nor even allowed in racing) the practice of “sculling” a boat’s rudder to provide forward motion was new to us. Sitting “in irons” as Dave referred to the dead air conditions, Ariel would bob, sway, and drift aimlessly, until we fired up her engine or awaited the faintest breeze to fill her listless sails. But Iris seemed ready to propel onward, whether by wind, motor, or rudder oscillation.
While I’m not sure that our 6,000 pound Columbia sloop would have responded to the practice of sculling had I known about it during our time with her, I was amazed that I was able to achieve a speed of nearly 1.5 knots during a windless spell of our Cal 20 training session.
But when forward motion wasn’t desirable, say, when having a snack or just needing a moment to rest, regroup, or reef, Dave taught us another sailing trick—heaving-to. This technique will be old hat to more experienced sailors, but was a revelation to us. The technique nearly stalls momentum, limits progress in any direction, and reduces the heeling angle of the vessel. Accomplished by backwinding the jib with the clew to windward and the sheet tightened, the main is positioned on the opposite side as the jib with the the tiller lashed over. The results: a fairly stable pause point in most conditions. Again, I wish I knew that a few years ago.
Sailing the Cal 20 was exciting and enjoyable, but is still a summer event for fair weather sailors like Laura and me. On winter days when the chill cuts through to our bones—or alternately, when the wind is but a whisper—a powerboat with an enclosed cabin is the perfect vessel to help us enjoy being on the water, which brings me to the second option for boatless sailors.
We recently discovered another organization that has a fleet of powerboats for us to check out for a monthly premium. When you consider moorage fees, yearly maintenance, repairs, and upgrades, the rental cost for us is actually less than the price of owning a vessel that remains in the water year round.
Once again, the learning curve was steep. Piloting a boat with a cruising speed of 25 knots required quite an adjustment of focus for me as captain and helmsman. Aboard Ariel, I was able to take in the sights of Commencement Bay without much vigilance, knowing that in traveling at a speed of three or four knots, I would have plenty of time to avoid any obstacle. Additionally, the lumbering sloop was the stand-on vessel in an encounter with a powerboat, giving me added confidence in my navigation.
In contrast was our early outing in a Parker Poland Scamander, necessitating a watchful eye on a swiveling head, looking for approaching boats or “timber whales” bobbing in the swells. At nearly six times the speed of our sailboat, the zippy pilothouse boat required a focus on the destination and journey at the same
Powerboating opens up new possibilities but requires different focus at speed.
time—offering new appreciation for the value of a navigation system. As we headed rapidly toward Gig Harbor one afternoon, I relied on the display long before being able to sight the narrow opening of the picturesque bay with my naked eye.
A week later, when trying out a Beneteau 22 during a light rain with overcast skies, I again relied on the electronic navigation system since visibility was limited, a situation that I never encountered because we only sailed Ariel in ideal conditions.
Since powerboating does indeed demand a set of skills different from sailing, the company leasing the powerboats requires an on-the-water training similar to the one we received for the Cal 20. Furthering my knowledge of boating was their two-hour course on safety, regulations, and marine knowledge. The online course, while mostly a refresher for me, provided clarification on buoys, charts, and marina rules, which increased my confidence as well as enjoyment on the water.
When reviewing our recent experiences with “library boats,” Laura and I feel pleased with our decision to temporarily eschew boat ownership. We still remain open to finding an “edition” that is so perfect for us that we may again purchase a vessel of our own.
For now, the variety of vessels and the absence of maintenance provide benefits that outweigh those of ownership. Walking away from a boat without worry or guilt about projects left unaddressed feels convenient and incredibly decadent. On the other hand, we need to plan our outings with the availability of boats in mind, knowing that other folks like us may also be seeking to check out the same popular model on a given day. When that happens, we’ll have to settle for either a used copy or maybe one that didn’t quite make it to the bestseller list—but who knows, our favorite adventure story might just be the one we didn’t appreciate until we got a few pages in.
David Casey is a retired math teacher, and woodworker. After relocating from California, he and his wife Laura enjoy exploring the vistas of Puget Sound from the deck of a boat or a promenade along its shores.
Laura enjoying her time at the wheel during a training session.
DIESEL DEEP DIVE 24
IDEAD DIESEL?
HOW TO GET YOUR ENGINE OFF THE GURNEY, INTO THE OPERATING ROOM, AND BACK IN THE GAME
by Meredith Anderson
t’s a bright, beautiful late summer day and you’re out on the water. There isn’t a lick of wind and perhaps a decent current, which means you are depending on your faithful iron sail to take you to the next destination. It seems like “smooth sailing” when suddenly—silence.
That trusty iron sail of yours has come to a rather abrupt stop, and you now are clambering around the boat trying to figure out why. For many of us, this is a real fear, and a very real situation. Many times, it’s not a terribly difficult or involved fix, however knowing the basic steps to take first is critical to keeping yourself, the boat, and anyone around you safe.
REMEMBER WHAT YOUR DIESEL NEEDS TO RUN
A diesel engine requires three things to run: fuel, air, and compression. If one of these components is lacking or missing completely, there will be no combustion, or very poor combustion inside the cylinders. Think of the fire triangle— fuel, air, heat—it’s the same concept. When fighting a fire, firefighters are simply attempting to remove one of the sides of the fire triangle to put out the fire. Your engine has a similar combustion triangle.
When the engine dies abruptly, it could be many things. But before you can explore which of those myriad options have caused the failure, one of the most important things to do is to get yourself into a safe place so you can assess the situation and consider your recourse. It’s possible that your location allows
you to do a preliminary assessment, but often your first priority may be moving the boat elsewhere. Sailors have the good fortune to raise a sail to maintain steerage and headway to another location in most conditions, some power vessels may have an auxiliary kicker motor to employ, you may need to try dropping an anchor, or you might have to call for a tow if you’re in a dangerous place.
A common way to misstep early on is overcomplicating the situation, and you’re more likely to do this if you’re in a hurry. Getting the boat somewhere safe so you have the time and ability to think through the problem is the best way to avoid that error. Your wallet and your engine will thank you.
Understanding and implementing the basics will always get you the farthest. By taking the time to systematically tackle each of these three components of the combustion triangle, you will work your way through the problem and be back on your way.
FUEL
Fuel is one of the most obvious issues leading to a dead engine. Without diesel, the engine has no chance of running, or will run poorly with no power. Much of the time, there is a warning though—the operator may notice the engine seems to have less “power” or is not responsive to throttle changes like before. If you experience this, it’s critical to check the basics first.
When I went through engineering school, I was forced to trace out every system onboard the ship I worked on. This was
daunting, as the ship was a 554-foot steam ship that had several hundred miles of pipes, and innumerable valves and other bits of hardware in between each component. Recreational boaters on smaller vessels should similarly take the time at the dock to trace the fuel system. Start at the main fuel tank or tanks and work your way to the engine. If the engine has died due to fuel starvation, checking your tank valve to see if it is closed is a good place to start. Then, move onto your primary and secondary fuel filters. Many times I am called out for a dead engine, and the issue was something painfully simple, and the service call to fix said problem was expensive. Changing fuel filters annually or right before a trip can help guarantee this problem is less likely to happen, and it’s so much easier to do when you’re safely at the dock.
Air in the fuel lines can also be a culprit, an issue frequently arising from failure to retighten banjo fittings or nuts on injection or supply lines. Don’t forget to rebleed the engine if you have changed those filters, it can take several minutes for an air bubble to work its way through to the injectors and actually stop the engine. Practice bleeding your system at your home marina and become familiar with the process so it doesn’t have to be a stressful experience when the time comes to do so out of need while you’re underway.
OXYGEN/ BREATHABILITY IS MORE CRITICAL THAN YOU THINK
Fresh air is just as important as fuel to make our little diesels function. A clogged air filter, while less likely to actually kill an engine, is still a possibility. Remembering the fire triangle, we are trying to encourage fire (in the form of a small explosion) to happen inside the cylinders of our engine. If there is no air—and more importantly no oxygen—then a combustion event will not happen. Check those air cleaners folks. Most of the time, a clogged air filter will show its face in the form of excessive greyish smoke (signaling incomplete combustion), or loss of power (similar to fuel starvation) long before the engine dies. If your air cleaner is that dirty, you have not been doing your proper maintenance.
Don’t forget the latter half either: your exhaust. The human body would not make it very far if it was unable to expel its own waste, and that is very true for an engine. If your engine exhaust is clogged in some way and it cannot “breathe” the engine will die. Exhaust is burnt gasses and is inert (it doesn’t burn), so if enough of it backs up into your cylinders, nothing will fire and the engine will die.
COMPRESSION
A diesel engine requires compression to run, a fact most boaters probably know in principle. However, did you know it needs near perfect compression to start and run? Unlike its gasoline counterparts that can get away with fairly low compression, diesels are significantly feistier when it comes down to the actual compression that builds up before it decides to ignite.
Imagine throwing a match into a 55 gallon drum of gasoline. What about a 55 gallon drum of diesel? The drum of gasoline will probably blow you off the face of the planet; while the diesel most likely will extinguish the match. Diesel needs
good compression in order to ignite the atomized diesel. Compression is what will build up the heat required to reach the ignition point of diesel, so if compression is low, the diesel will never ignite. While harder to diagnose, it’s also less likely you’ll ever have to deal with poor compression as your cause of engine stoppage underway—more likely it will be the cause of your engine not starting.
WHAT ELSE CAN KILL MY ENGINE?
Now that you have an idea of what it takes to keep a diesel running, it’s important to understand there can be other factors that can lead to a dead diesel. Things like water intrusion, clogged exhaust elbows, electrical issues (on newer engines), and a host of other problems can surface, but most of these can be found, fixed, and prevented during your regular maintenance. And of course, there’s also the common engine failure activated by excess heat, which is less about overall engine function than the cooling system; but your engine may stop until you can resolve the cooling issue.
Working your way through the basics first will almost always work, and any good mechanic will always start with the basics first too. From my experience working on an ambulance, I learned how systems of the human body work together. I see many parallels with learning the basics of your engine systems and learning how they work together—as you build that knowledge, you’ll suddenly be able to think your way through the problem versus throwing parts at it and praying it goes away. This is all impossible if you and your boat are in an unsafe location, so make sure “your scene is safe” first.
If you can’t find the solution, knowing when to reach out for help is also a critical step. Many good mechanics will do this as well (we aren’t all-knowing) and a lot of us have colleagues in the industry who may have dealt with the same problem who can help us troubleshoot the issue at hand.
Having your trusty iron genoa die while underway is something none of us want to experience, but your diligence to understand your vessel’s systems and to develop a plan will give you confidence when stuff hits the fan.
Meredith Anderson is the owner of Madame Diesel, LLC, where she operates a mobile mechanic service and teaches hands-on marine diesel classes to groups and in private classes aboard clients’ own vessels.
SHIFTING GEARS 26
PULLING THE EMERGENCY BRAKE
by Dennis Bottemiller
Tekla, our friend Rob, and I were hanging around the house on a Thursday afternoon, as retired folk sometimes do, when the suggestion to hit the water came up and was accepted all around with instantaneous enthusiasm. Rob called his wife Tracy to come along, and we all headed down to our C-Dory 22 cruiser, Sea Lab. With the boat newly relocated closer to home, we were pulling out of the slip inside of 20 minutes from the inception of the idea.
Our inspiration had been Tekla’s check of the Orca Network and the resulting discovery that a pod had recently been sighted up near Allyn. We thought it would be fun to be afloat when they passed by on their way south, observing the new rules regarding whales, of course.
We headed out toward the middle of Case Inlet and shut the engine down to drift and enjoy our surroundings and to see if
the orcas would pass by. The weather was bright and sunny, but also windier than we at first thought. Soon, drifting felt more like bouncing around on whitecaps. The tide was flooding, and the wind was from the south so the chop was not terrible but not very comfortable either.
There was no spouting to be seen, so we speculated that maybe the whales had already gone south, and we decided to do the same. We resolved that Plan B was to run down to Jarrell Cove where some other friends had just moored their new-tothem Ranger Tug, so we could see it for the first time. I started the motor, and we began to mosey southward.
As we neared the southern end of Stretch Island, Rob called out to say that there was someone in a kayak waving to us and he couldn’t tell if they were being friendly or needed help, so we altered course in their direction. After looking through the binoculars it became clear that there were two kayaks and the bow of one of them was pointing up—not floating correctly. I picked up our pace to get closer, and soon we could see that
Once
Helping Cindy ashore at Hartstene Pointe.
safe, the authorities interviewed everyone.
one of the kayaks had capsized and the person was in the water clinging to the capsized boat and her friend’s boat so they would not become separated in the wind and waves. At this point we all knew it was an emergency, I had the crew get PFDs on and get ready.
I knew the approach would be tricky in the conditions, so I circled upwind around them and let the boat drift down upon them and, just before making contact, I cut the engine. Then, Rob took over in his calm, efficient manner and assessed the situation. A woman named Cindy had been in the water for about 10 minutes, but she was lucid and in good humor. The water temperature was 59 degrees according to my Lowrance display, so getting her out of the water was our first concern.
Tekla and Rob lowered the ladder on our small swim step. The second kayaker, Angelina, and Rob managed to maneuver Cindy into a position from which she could get her feet on the boarding ladder, and then we pulled her up on the swim step and had her rest there for a minute. We could all feel a palpable
sense of relief as soon as she got up to the step.
After a brief rest, we got her up and over the transom and into the cabin, where we rounded up a blanket and got her situated to start the warm-up process. Next, we got Angelina to the swim step and on board, which is not the easiest of operations. Tekla has fallen into the water once trying to get on board out of a kayak, it’s a difficult move.
About this time, the Mason County Sheriff boat and the Jarrell Cove State Park boat arrived on the scene, since Angelina had called 911 and they had dispatched help. The park boat picked up the capsized kayak full of water, which we had set adrift, and found the paddle floating nearby. We started the motor again and headed toward the shore of Hartstene Pointe, which was where they had paddled from about a mile away.
I had never beached Sea Lab before, so I was a little nervous about the landing; but the beach was steep with small gravel, and we still had a rising tide. I decided it was manageable and I raised the motor as we nosed into the gravel.
The other two boats beached as well and soon we had a small crowd gathered around. After making sure Cindy was ok, the first question I heard the Sheriff ask was, “Is your life jacket Coast Guard approved?” and he wanted to inspect it to see. After all the interviewing and questioning, things seemed to be settling down. Cindy’s husband arrived and thanked us for stopping to pick her and Angelina up.
Through all of this, we learned more about what had transpired. It turned out that Angelina was visiting and they wanted to get out on the water. Cindy said they don’t usually go out at low tide, which it was when they launched, and when the tide began to flood they were much farther from the beach at Hartstene Pointe than they realized. The current and wind were pushing them away from the launch site and, when they turned around to paddle back, they could not make headway against it and became tired. They decided to tie the boats together so Angelina could tow Cindy against the resistance and, while they were arranging this, Cindy overturned and went into the water. Angelina had her cell phone and called 911, and I think that even if we had not come along the Sheriff and State Park people would have gotten to them before anyone got really hurt. Still, I was glad we were there and responded to their wave—they told us that two other passing boats had not done so.
Everything turned out fine this time, but an event like this brings home the fact that things can go wrong quickly, and a fun day on the water can turn into an adventure you didn’t expect. No matter what type of boat you have, practicing crew overboard drills provides critical skills and learning. Working through this situation showed us that it’s difficult to execute a practice drill that can match the task of getting someone out of the water in reality. It helped a lot that Cindy was alert and relatively unaffected by hypothermia when we arrived, and we were able to get her out. It gives me a shiver of recognition at how difficult that could be in other circumstances. Stay safe in your boats and upright, everybody!
Dennis, Tekla, and Tim Tim the sailor dog recently changed their home cruising waters from Tacoma to Case Inlet.
Tekla and Dennis may be smiling, but this experience was also a reminder of how quickly things can go wrong.
The trusty C-Dory was a rescue boat on this occasion.
MY BOAT: GRAVENSTEIN
1983 GRAND BANKS 42 CLASSIC
Grand Banks Yachts are well known throughout the Pacific Northwest and beyond as sought-after powercruisers that are comfortable and capable, especially when plying the waters of the Inside Passage. Indeed, that was part of the requirement for Ron Moller when he was searching for a boat to live out his dream of cruising in retirement. But it goes a bit deeper than that. Moller has had a long history of boating in Puget Sound, and it was his late father who turned him on to the Grand Banks name. Eventually, this led him to a boat that he has come to cherish—his beloved 1983 Grand Banks 42 Classic, Gravenstein .
Tell us about your boat’s name.
My dad built boats, from plywood skiffs to a 34-foot mahogany-planked sailboat, and many between. I grew up on and around the water, third generation at the family homestead on Colvos Pass just north of Gig Harbor. When we’d see
a Grand Banks trawler go by, Dad would point it out—he loved the sturdy workboat lines, and apparently that rubbed off on me. Today, the old family farm is Sunrise Beach County Park if you’d like to cruise by for a visit and to see one of the few remaining fruit trees, which are 120-plus
years old by now. Like boat designs, my dad’s taste in apples aligned with my own, and our favorite was always Gravenstein. He passed away 30 years ago, but when I was ready to own a cruising boat there was no question what I wanted, and the name is a nod to my father, Rudy Moller.
The Moller family with Kailua, a sailboat the author's father built, under construction. The baby pictured is the author.
The author's $500 ChrisCraft, SS Minnow, in Gig Harbor in 1984.
Have you owned other boats before this one?
Yes. What could be a better idea than two friends home from college buying a leaky $500 wooden 26-foot ChrisCraft Sedan Cruiser that was over 40 years old? It turned out that all of the underwater bronze was so wasted that the rudder simply broke off one day. “Ummm, Paul… the boat won’t steer.” We fixed it by bolting a plywood rudder onto the stub. Another time, while backing away from our dock, the propeller retaining nut crumbled and the prop went spinning to the bottom of Gig Harbor. “Ummm, Paul… the boat won’t go forward.” He dove down and retrieved it and we bought a new retaining nut. Believe it or not, by the end of summer we ran it all the way to Montague Harbour, British Columbia and back with my future wife and a couple more friends aboard—and only had two minor crises along the way!
After a 25-year gap raising a family and living in the San Francisco Bay Area, next up was a 1978 Tollycraft 30 bought in Tacoma. I was grateful to that boat (we named her Tusen Takk, which is Norwegian for “thousand thanks”) for getting me back on the water and up to the San Juan Islands with family a few times, but she wasn’t a keeper. Three years later we sold the Tolly and purchased Gravenstein.
Tell us the story of how you found your boat and what makes it special to you.
A Seattle friend recommended a yacht broker and I told him that Grand Banks was my preferred brand, but best to buy in a couple years when I was closer to retirement. I flew in for a weekend to walk
the docks with him and see a few boats… along with the same friend that owned the ChrisCraft with me 30 years earlier. From there, it was a Three Bears story: We went aboard a Grand Banks 36, 42, and 46. As a tall guy, the 36 felt sweet and cozy but too small, the 46 was gorgeous but unnecessarily big, and the 42 fit just right.
With that settled, and some specific preferences outlined with the broker, we went back to life and work, not expecting to hear from him for a year or two. A couple months later, though, he called me at work from the engine room of a Grand Banks 42 and said, “Uhhh Ron, I know it’s early but I'm pretty sure I’m on your boat.”
All these Grand Banks were semicustom, with many configuration options from the factory. I’d outlined “must haves” and “wants” with the broker and this boat hit them all. It also had the bonus of always being moored on Seattle lakes, including the first 20 years in a boathouse, so there was very little corrosion or weathering. He sent me
photos and particulars, and I flew up that weekend for a walk-through. I then put in an offer, which was accepted pending inspection and sea trial. The boat passed with flying colors and, eleven years later, I am still grateful for that phone call.
Gravenstein was built for a Seattle businessman, lightly used for 20 years, then sold to an airline mechanic for the next 10. I can highly recommend buying from an airline mechanic, as they are quite particular about maintenance. With me as her third owner, Gravenstein now floats in the salty stuff all year, and there are no boathouses in Port Townsend—so we’re well underway with “weathering” at this point.
What’s the history of your boat? Tell us its story.
Grand Banks 42s were originally a Ken Smith design, built from 1965 through 2004, initially in Hong Kong, then in Singapore. The hulls were wood, then they switched to fiberglass in 1973. There has been a considerable evolution along
The Tollycraft 30, Tusen Takk, enjoying a quiet Sucia Island moonrise.
Gravenstein in peaceful solitude at the dock in Princess Louisa, in May 2025.
The first Grand Banks 42s were built in Hong Kong, later models like Gravenstein were built in Singapore.
the way, but at first glance it’s hard to guess the age.
For my tastes, the 1980s Grand Banks hit the sweet spot. There were a handful of salon and stateroom refinements over the earlier models, but they are still relatively simple boats. Gravenstein has twin 120hp Lehmans, which was the most common choice in that era. From about 1990 onward, the market demanded more power and more luxury features. They were still lovely yachts, of course, but they became more expensive to buy and maintain.
Gravenstein cruises at 7.2 knots at 1500 RPM and burns 2.6 GPH. The fuel tanks hold 560 gallons, so we could run from Port Townsend to Ketchikan and back without refueling. We haven’t done that yet, but it means that even with multiple trips in Washington and British Columbia waters every season, we refuel just once a year.
What do you like best about your boat?
I’m fond of its high level of quality in design, construction, materials, and equipment from Grand Banks, along with what is for me the ideal size and layout for a Pacific Northwest cruising boat. There are private cabins fore and aft, each with a head, and the flybridge is where we spend 95% of our running time, with unrestricted views of this beautiful piece of the planet. Also, I like that Gravenstein still looks right out of 1983—but with some modern tricks behind the scenes: NMEA2000 network backbone for the chartplotter and radar functionality mirrored to the big iPad we use for flybridge navigation, high efficiency 12V
Gravenstein has the author's ideal layout for a Pacific Northwest cruising boat.
Visiting Princess Louisa Inlet for the first time in 50 years was dreamy enough. Having a spectacular aurora borealis display made it even more special.
A quiet October evening at Jarrell Cove State Park.
refrigeration, all LED lighting and flexible solar panels on the Bimini that have allowed us to donate the original diesel generator to a local trade school. And yeah, just like Dad, I love the way it looks.
What’s your favorite story involving your boat?
In 2004 we completed a 50 year mission by returning to Princess Louisa Inlet. I’d last been there as a 12-year-old on Mom and Dad’s boat.
We happened to hit an amazing sunny weather window in early May, and had the inlet almost to ourselves. For one whole day, until the evening slack tide at Malibu Rapids, we were the only boat at the Chatterbox Falls dock. That was also the day after the aurora borealis had put on a spectacular show, which had us spellbound for a couple hours. It was an incredible run of luck in an astonishingly beautiful place.
Describe the most challenging situation you’ve experienced on your boat and how it performed. With bluewater sailors and experienced
Alaska cruisers reading this, I don’t have any extreme weather tales to share. We’ve been caught out in the Strait of Juan de Fuca a few times when the weather forecast and reality didn’t match—meaning a few hours spent with lots more vertical motion than expected. Grand Banks don’t have a lot of flare in the bow, so when seas get steep there’s loads of spray. We’ve buried it deep but I’ve yet to see green water over the bow, and I’m ok with that. The original bell is on the mast, and if the boat pitches particularly hard when diving into a trough the bell will ring. That’s one way to keep track of whether the seas are getting worse or better.
As folks often say, the boat can take a lot more punishment than the people aboard. As an Inside Passage cruiser, I’m happy to not push those boundaries.
Where do you plan to take your boat?
Do you have a dream destination or adventure?
We’ve been working our way farther north each season, but so far life choices have meant trips of three weeks or less—
and in a slow boat that means we haven’t been very far. In May we completed another 50 year mission of mine, finishing my Dad’s journey to Prideaux Haven. As trip durations grow, the Broughtons are certainly on the list, and Haida Gwaii is my current dream destination.
If you could have any other boat, what would it be and why?
Fundamentally, there’s nothing I’d change; Gravenstein is the right boat for me and the friends who travel aboard. Larger Grand Banks are gorgeous, but the ownership and operating costs go up fast with length, and we like poking into little coves where more size and depth quickly become disadvantages. It pleases me how many sailor friends of a certain age have said to me that when they’ve had enough of hauling halyards, a Grand Banks 42 is on their short list. That says a lot.
If you’d like to share the story of your boat in a MY BOAT column, we’d love to hear from you. Please email 48° North Editor Andy Cross to get started (andy@48north.com).
The 40-year-old autopilot still works great.
Gravenstein's engine room is simple and roomy, especially with the generator eliminated.
The flybridge is where Ron and his family spend 95% of their running time.
Emergency tiller if the old-school cable steering ever fails!
AS GOOD AS IT GETS
48° NORTH RALLY
2025
by Joe Cline
There are as many ways to go cruising as there are boats, destinations, and people interested in waterborne travel. No one thing, no approach or region, no dynamic or itinerary, no ethos or adventure will suit everyone. On the other hand, our 48° North Cruising Rally was the best. Here it is, folks: the best four-day cruising itinerary in the San Juan and Gulf islands. Sorry, all other routes!
I kid, but here’s where I’m serious—I’m not sure how we’d improve what we did this year. Our group of boats was on the smaller side, but was full of the most wonderful and fun people with varied skills and experience, generosity, and ingenuity to share with the rest of us. Perhaps it was because this group of rally-goers was so capable and easy-going that I was able to more fully lean into the actual cruise we enjoyed.
A few rally principles have been consistent since our first rally back in 2018. Among them is our ongoing partnership with Ullman Sails, and specifically loft owner Chuck Skewes. Well known to many in the 48° North community—with all of his knowledge, positivity, enthusiasm, and good humor—who wouldn’t want to go sailing with Chuck? Another standard has been the rally’s homeport of Anacortes, an equally good gathering location as it is a jumping-off spot.
So it was that in late July, we were meeting-and-greeting around a seaside table near Cap Sante Marina. The next morning, we set off from Anacortes under power in conditions we expected to be light most or all of the day—electing for the path east of Guemes to avoid the worst of the ebb in Rosario. We were headed for what I consider to be the most ambitious destination the 48° North Rally has set its sights on to date: Patos Island's Active Cove.
We were pleasantly surprised to see the wind building a bit as we passed Lummi Island. We threw up the main and unfurled the Code Zero and relished some unexpected sailing until it dwindled again between Clark and Matia islands. On we motored, our course set for Patos.
Though familiar to some, I know few other cruisers who have spent a night at Patos. I have sailed as close to the island as I dared on sailboat races like Round the County, but
hardly even noticed the cove south of the lighthouse—racer’s tunnel vision. Of course, there it is, and any cruising guide or navigation app confirms the same. I actually like it when cruising recommendations differ, but this one seemed pretty unanimous. Patos Island’s Active Cove, one of the embarrassment of riches that are the Washington Marine State Parks, will provide a challenging overnight stay for most boats. But those who pull it off will be handsomely rewarded.
As you might guess, the biggest difficulty is getting to the northernmost San Juan island and finding space to stay when you do. Enter one of our perennial rally participants, Ed, whose infectious enthusiasm has been a feature of our now 15-year friendship. Ed’s a longtime sailor, but in the past couple of years moved on from his Tartan 3400 in favor of something without sails that blends power, elegance, and capability—a Tiara Coronet 3100, Wildergal. Cruising friends, whatever your ride, I can highly recommend buddy boating or group-cruising with someone who has a fast powerboat and some team spirit! Last year, I begged Ed for a tow and, in 2025, I was sheepishly inquiring if he’d be willing to buzz up to assess the space situation at Patos before the sailboat fleet got past Sucia (our Plan B, and a nice one at that!).
Ed happily charged ahead, and soon reported back via text and
Rally goers enjoying Butchart Gardens while anchored in nearby Tod Inlet.
VHF. There were two boats presently in Active Cove. Aw shucks. But both were leaving. Woop! Ed snagged the lone mooring buoy in the cove… we had a shot at this afterall. Put the hammer down! We did the fastest 6.5 knots we could muster, and turned the corner into one of the more idyllic surroundings you can find in our local cruising grounds. Patos was all ours!
The largest boat on the 2025 Rally, Callisti—a steel Waterline 50 cutter as stout as it is luxurious—captained by vastly experienced international cruisers Michael and Jean got in just ahead, and we arrived soon thereafter on CS 40 Black Bird, which we are fortunate to use each year as our Rally HQ vessel. We scanned the area for a good stern-tie set-up.
On the north side of the cove, remnants of an old dock are the foreground feature against a picturesque scalloped limestone backdrop. The dock pilings were old pitted concrete, covered in barnacles exposed at low tide. We found a ring in the rock that made a good stern-tie choice.
In such a small and narrow anchorage, we dropped the hook well toward the south shore in just under 20 feet, reversing toward that ring, and got a nice easy set. The season’s first sterntie adventure wasn’t exactly slick, but it wasn’t eventful either. We were made, and motioned Callisti in next, they dropped their hook and backed down west of us, finding another ring in the
rock. The C&C 30, Sea Boots, followed, tying on the east side of Black Bird as the smallest boat in the fleet.
We were just taking a breath and settling in when our attention was soon drawn to an ever-tightening stern line—the raft was shifting west in the building current. We’d read this might be a possibility, and the stern-tie setup was indeed getting more complicated.
At Active Cove’s southeast corner, there’s what looks (on charts) like a little piece of land connecting the main island and Little Patos Island that forms the south shore of the cove. It may dry at the lowest tides, but with our now flooding tide level, it was a river for east-west running current.
As the cross current built, the raft continued its westward push, bringing our stern line tautly against the barnacle-covered concrete piling. Because of our anchor orientation, if that line went, we’d be headed for the rocks. What ensued was a solid hour of puzzle solving, adding an extra anchor and stern line, swapping stern line positions, rebalancing between all of our contact points. Eventually, we were comfortably settled but the degree of difficulty for a stern-tie raft in Active Cove is quite high.
One pleasant feature of our trip was the happenstance of being in a part of the mixed-diurnal tide cycle when the smaller tidal exchange was at night. Thus, the current force waned through the evening and would not increase substantially until morning. Phew!
Once the anchoring effort was resolved, we were able to fully drink-in our surroundings and… just, wow. We dinghied ashore in the early evening to visit the Patos Light and hike the island. Million dollar views in every direction. Other than a handful of kayak campers, we had the entire island paradise to ourselves.
We returned to the boats and soon there was salmon on the grill as the sunset exploded into electric orange. Patos Island is officially my new favorite sunset spot in the San Juan Islands.
After a quiet night, we broke up the raft and headed for Bedwell Harbour where we’d clear into Canada. It was a dead flat motor with water mirroring the distant hills in mirage fashion. Our only excitement was being boarded by the Shiprider Program,
The pleasant anchorage at picturesque Russell Island.
Waterline 50, Callisti, tests out their furling spinnaker near Jones Island.
If you stay in Tod Inlet, checking out Butchart Gardens at night is stunning.
a collaboration between US and Canadian law enforcement—an experience that was both friendly and efficient.
With our courtesy flag now hoisted, there was still no breeze, so we powered on toward Russell Island, just outside of Saltspring Island’s Fulford Harbor.
Approaching from the east, we rounded the north side of the island and perhaps a dozen anchored boats soon came into view. We were eager to drop the hook and head to shore to check out the BC Marine Park we’d read a lot about, with its thousandyear-old clam gardens that were nurtured by First Nations and its historic homestead and orchard settled by a Hawaiian family.
Reports and guides suggested that the holding at Russell Island was… meh. And we can now confirm as much, with two attempts dragging into oblivion on a rocky shelf before we finally caught with some confidence. We were relieved to see our fellow rally-goers set with less struggle. Once anchored, in spite of the evening’s tsunami advisory following the Kamchatka earthquake (see page 6 for a little more about that), all rally boats stayed put without issue. The ferry wake through the anchorage is less present than I worried it might be, I hardly noticed it honestly.
Soon, we zipped to the dinghy dock and were happily strolling another stunningly beautiful island park. Enticing beach nooks, picturesque cairns, clam gardens, and more stunning views through gnarled madrona and a few oak trees provided an outstanding walk. Some summertime visitors are lucky enough to have descendents of the homesteading Hawaiian family on the island to share history, but since they weren't there, we gladly explored on our own. It was too early for most of the orchard’s fruit—visitors are allowed to harvest a limited amount—but we found a couple of ripe blackberries nearby.
After an indulgent steak dinner potluck aboard Callisti, we settled in for a calm night on the water, but rest came late and in fits with the possibility of tsunami activity. The morning brought hazy relief, and we were up and out early.
Our near-dawn start was predicated on the notion that we were headed to an anchorage that can be crowded, Tod Inlet. We set off in glassy waters, but heading south into Saanich Inlet found a little breeze to play in. Sails went up but, soon enough, it was dissipating and we motored slowly through Brentwood
Bay’s eclectic blend of craft ranging from grand to seemingly derelict.
We nosed into Tod Inlet, which was well populated by other boats, but definitely not packed. Working toward the head of the bay near the dinghy dock and trail to the main entrance to Butchart Gardens, a pair of stern-tied boats on the southwest shore each were pulling anchor. Huzzah! We happily snagged their spot, and got settled with a four-boat stern-tie raft with no complications. The holding was stellar, the stern-tie options numerous, and the wind and water were accommodatingly calm. Though there were many other boats in Tod, I think the sterntie option has a lot of appeal. In the busy anchorage, we really felt like we were in our own world, and weren’t very aware of our neighbors. Some harbors are like that, others lend themselves to more interaction. If it got breezier, however, swinging would be far preferable, because any wind is likely to be on the beam if you’re stern-tied.
Before long, our rally crew made the short trip into the dock, where a 10-minute walk brought us to the front gate of the expansive and exquisite Butchart Gardens. Tickets aren’t cheap (about $40 CAD), but every member of our group thought it was well worth it, regardless of their inherent levels of garden enthusiasm. The gardens are simply stunning, not a leaf out of place; every plant perfectly healthy, and obvious care is given to the tiniest details. Amazingly, there’s not a gardener to be seen. How?!
Perhaps the Butchart visit’s most notable discovery was that tickets are good for the full day and there was an Australian blues outfit playing in the bandshell that evening. We headed back to the boats where the afternoon heat soon drew every participant into the warm-ish water for some swimming and paddling. If you’ve visited Tod Inlet, you may recall that the waters are dotted with millions of tiny moon jellyfish. After a dip in the inlet, the assurance that they wouldn’t sting was confirmed, but they made for a unique element of the swim—you really can’t swim here without touching at least a few moon jellies.
A casual happy hour and dinner on the raft followed, after which we headed back for some blues. The three-piece band was impressively skilled, the lead singer spun a heck of a betweentune yarn, and the setting was simply one-of-a-kind.
The surprise delight of the evening, however, was finding the gardens artfully illuminated as the concert broke up in the fading light. Our tickets were still good for a couple hours until the gardens closed at 11 p.m. We wound up walking the entire garden again, experiencing it anew in the lighted nighttime version, and it was essentially a private tour—with only a handful of other concert goers walking the grounds. We walked and dinghied back well into the dark of night, fulfilled and astonished by the incredible variety the day had provided. You just never know what you might get up to while cruising.
We didn’t break up the raft at Tod Inlet until midday, and it was already beginning to feel like the end of summer camp. We had one more night, but we knew this rally was coming to its conclusion, and it felt too soon!
We steamed back the way we came, once again coming into sailable breeze in Saanich Inlet, this time building as we went north. We had a splendid close reach to Moses Point where we
began beating our way east. The breeze was coy for a while before pummeling us with 25 knots on the nose as we got into the San Juans.
We took a close route along the south shore of Spieden Island, where we were able to catch a glimpse of several dozen of the island’s animal inhabitants. We cleared back into the states with a no-drama video call via the app, and headed toward Jones Island’s North Cove as quickly as we could manage.
We got settled in time for one last group dinner, scrounging what was left in our respective fridges, ice boxes, and pantries. The islands gave us the parting gift of a colorfully pastel sunset, and we laid our heads down early, wiped from a couple late nights and a windy transit.
The morning dawned sunny yet again—we were batting a thousand on this trip. We headed ashore at Jones for what might be my favorite hike in the San Juans. It’s familiar, but just so appealing. A hint of autumn was in the air as we crunched through the season’s first fallen leaves. Glistening vistas, a pristine island park, boaty possibilities in every direction. How can you not love this stuff?
Before clamboring into our dinghies, we said our goodbyes, sharing gratitude for this wonderful group of friends, and enduring amazement for just how blissful this rally had been.
For my cruising taste, this itinerary is as good as it gets for a four-night local cruise. We stayed at three uninhabited island parks, and our only stop with shoreside “amenities” provided something absolutely unique with layers of charm. If we were ever to do a rally two or three times as long, I’d still like the
three-to-one ratio of quiet natural destinations peppered every so often by some enticing shoreside activity.
I’ll plant my flag in this route as one to contend with any, but as I think of it, there are dozens of options. How lucky are we to spend time on the water in this special corner of the world? And to do so with friends who so happily share the journey, their knowledge, and themselves… it doesn’t get any better.
Join us next year, and learn more at 48north.com/cruising-rally
Joe Cline lives with his wife Kaylin and two children in Edmonds, WA. He has been the Managing Editor of 48° North since 2014.
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The perfect pastel sunset on the rally's final night at Jones Island.
LUGGER LORE A
SMALL BOAT ADVENTURE TO PRINCESS LOUISA INLET
by Kevin Pratt
You can choose between a cooler and a toilet, but we can’t have both,” I said to my long-suffering wife, Jordy, with a sheepish look, hoping this revelation wouldn’t completely derail my vision of sailing our Drascombe Lugger Lore through British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast. At just 18 feet and with no enclosed cabin space, the little lapstrake cruiser demanded piercing decisiveness when it came to provisioning and stowage of personal effects. It was also a dreamworthy platform for a memorable journey.
Let’s back up a bit, though. I first became intrigued by the ever-elusive Lugger while reading a series of sea stories by the intrepid adventurer Webb
Chiles, who sailed his Lugger Chidiock Tichborne almost all the way around the world, nearly at the cost of his life. Luggers are rare, having only a limited run of fiberglass hulls from Devon in the U.K. A few have been built in stitchand-glue fashion here and there, but I’d never seen a genuine article on the North Pacific Coast. Casually cruising online boat listings and classifieds is a dangerous pastime; and with the careless click of the mouse, the die was cast.
We had recently parted ways with our beloved 30-foot cruising boat, Atlas A change in the seasons had hijacked our calendars and made the idea of continuous moorage and haul-out fees unappetizing. I also harbored some
strange sense that with larger boats and modern equipment, the Salish Sea was beginning to feel small. I wasn’t sure if I liked that; after all, a life at sea with no pucker-factor is missing the point. On a related note, it seemed likely that our time as DINKs (double income, no kids) would likely be coming to an end, and I was keen to notch a season of dinghy cruising onto my belt before that window closed altogether.
I slammed the column shifter into drive and pointed my 2000 Chevy Astro van north to Lummi Island, where my treasure lay in wait. As a general principle, I never pay full price for anything on Craigslist, but in this case, I withdrew the full amount. Over the 90-minute drive, I
rehearsed my best dickerings in the hope that the seller wouldn’t get wise to the fact that he had me unequivocally. In the end, I did indeed tow a boat home that day; but my poker face failed, and there was no money left for a milkshake.
I am in the habit of naming and renaming things. I like to personify my possessions—not to lose sight of their eventual worthlessness, but to be playful and in some ways to help me care for them well. I may skip some maintenance on any old Astro van, but I’d never do that to Rupert!
The Lugger had some conglomeration of letters on her transom, which meant something in another language, I can’t even remember what. I wanted to
Towing Lore to Egmont meant Princess Louisa was in striking distance.
Lore cemented her proud standing as the smallest in the crowd at the Chatterbox Falls dock.
imagine that we would do storied things together, maybe even rustle up a legend or two, so I named her Lore. Lore is stout, heavy, stiff, and rigged as a yawl with a gunter main. I could see why Webb would choose such a vessel for a grand voyage. I performed the usual new boat rituals—fresh varnish, a new sail, waxing and buffing. I even placed two large inflatable rollers along the centerboard trunk. I figured if they couldn’t sink us, they couldn’t stop us. These would also prove handy for getting Lore off the beach at low tide.
I learned just how seaworthy she was in incremental phases until circumstances forced me into our first real challenge. I had set off on my first solo mission in the San Juan Islands out of our homeport of Anacortes. I aimed to cruise for a few days before meeting some friends in Deer Harbor for the 3rd of July festivities. I had a pleasant and uneventful passage to Sucia and had stopped off for a night on Clarke Island before hanging a right for Obstruction Pass. Somewhere along the way, I had gotten sick and was already laid up on the beach. I fastened a brown canvas tarp over the yard and made a comfortable home in Lore’s open cockpit.
The illness was bad enough, and then the weather came… heavily. The last time I felt that cooped up was while stormed into my bivy for two days in Boston Basin on an attempt at Forbidden Peak. Sick, wet, cold, and suffering from cockpit fever, I determined that I could wait no more. Lore was going to sea, and I was going with her.
A 25-knot southeasterly had kicked up quite a sea state, but with a double reefed main, a partially furled jib, and a struck mizzen, we set out to weather. The iron butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I perched on the windward rail and departed the relative protection of the anchorage. My demeanor shifted about halfway to Lummi Rock. I was cold, sick, and wetter than ever from the relentless deluge of sea water gulping over the gunwale, but my confidence in Lore soared, and I donned a slight grin knowing that there were now few places we couldn’t explore together.
Dried out, recovered, and back at home, bigger plans with Lore began taking shape. We chose the towering, glaciated
peaks and warm tidal waters of Princess Louisa Inlet as the primary objective of our upcoming trip to British Columbia. I’d visited the area as a teenager and had longed to return. Our vessel may have been nearly invincible but, sadly, so were our time commitments; and thus it was determined that instead of sailing the roughly 150 miles to Chatterbox Falls, we would tow the boat to Egmont and sail the 40-odd miles of Jervis Inlet before slipping through the infamous Malibu Rapids.
Jervis Inlet offers a unique challenge for eager mariners as the narrow reach tends to funnel thermal winds up and down at different times of the day and— in anything but the calmest conditions— provides a dearth of suitable anchorages along the way. We departed Egmont early in the morning and were quite pleased to
haunting. Our one-pot dinner prep was interrupted by a frightening crash not far from where Lore rested, stern-tied to a tree overhanging a quietly babbling creek that worked in vain to dilute the sea. We braced in statuesque form, catching sight of a massive bull elk as he rummaged through the bush, he offered us nothing but a slight glance and carried on his way.
The following morning, we fired up the trusty outboard and steamed the final 5 miles to the tidal rapids, which Captain Vancouver had mistaken for a coastal river as he sailed toward Queens Reach some 230 years prior. Once inside Princess Louisa Inlet, one can’t help but be overwhelmed by the beauty and grandeur. The inlet is a diminutive 4 nautical miles long and only a quartermile wide at points. The glaciated peaks
I also harbored some strange sense that with larger boats and modern equipment, the Salish Sea was beginning to feel small. I wasn’t sure if I liked that; after all, a life at sea with no pucker-factor is missing the point.
find the morning calm, giving way to a 15 knot run with a nice following sea. We experimented with wing-on-wing sailing and eventually found success poling out the loose-footed mainsail with a telescoping boathook butted into a shoe that was lashed to the mast with a sail tie.
Lore was many things, but a fast boat was not one of them. She surfed along enthusiastically as the rumbling foam billowed along her quarters. I would have reported 10 to 12 knots of boat speed had I not seen the sorry 4.2 as clear as day on the GPS monitor. I am no mathematician, but before long it became evident that we would not make our tidal window at Malibu Rapids. I began to scour the charts for a modest bight in which to spend the night. We honed in on Deserted Bay near the northern arm of the fjord. The afternoon thermal had abated, and we found good holding in a muddy clam bed.
The solitude was gorgeous and slightly
rise to an immediate 7,000 feet of elevation, and the water plummets to depths of more than 500 feet.
The approach to Chatterbox Falls was otherworldly, and my eyes remained fixed on the stony prow of One Eye Peak, a summit I had stood atop as a younger man. The falls are the crown jewel of the inlet and, with the tide just past the morning low, we pulled up the centerboard and brought Lore’s bow to rest in the outflow of Loquilts Creek. Her Delta anchor was novelty-sized for most cruising boats, yet held well in the glistening glacial till.
The inlet’s shores are so steep that Lore’s bow rested in just inches of water while her stern floated over an invisible abyss. We rewarded ourselves with a chilling plunge in the turquoise water and basked in the hot, still August air before relocating to the nearby dock where we would cement our standing as
the smallest craft in the crowd. The other cruisers were friendly, and many would approach with the usual questions. Did you sail here? Where do you sleep? Can we bring you anything? While it was generally our policy not to accept any pity from the yachties, we made an exception when it came in the form of ice—and we were then generously treated to many cold Dark and Stormies aboard the sprawling decks of a neighboring sailboat, enough to have us stumbling back to our sleeping bags that evening.
Don’t let the excitement about ice at the dock fool you into thinking that Jordy chose the cooler in our exacting preparation—she didn’t. That ice and those Dark and Stormies were just a welcome contrast to the non-perishable, one-pot meals and air-temp tap water that we had filled jugs with at the campsite in Egmont. All of these were packed snuggly around the crown jewel of our cockpit space—the porta potty. Throughout my twenties I was an alpine guide working primarily around the north-central Cascades. We had a fun way of engaging clients with a “fivestar” rating system—they could report back upon their return from whichever wilderness privy they had wandered off to. There was a star for the freshness of the air, the comfort of the seat, the lack of mosquitoes or other nuisances, the precariousness of its perch and, above all, the view. Let’s just say that our cockpit throne’s employment in Jervis and Princess Louisa deserved more than five stars!
Back at the dock at the head of the inlet, it was our version of Groundhog Day as we passed the time in a repetitive loop. Wake up, dive into the sea, swim as far up the progressively frigid outflow current as possible, hike the trail back to the boat, eat a snack, fall asleep, and repeat. We interrupted our usual programming for a strenuous hike up past the old trapper’s cabin, across the creek, and onward to a secluded window in the forest canopy offering vistas of the inlet and on to Lake McCannel, which lies hanging in the cleft of the opposing ridgeline. We returned wobbly-legged and joined some new friends for a dinghy ride to explore Macdonald Island and the
Chatterbox Falls was the scene of the author's own blissful Groundhog Day.
Jordy hikes back toward the boat after a swim.
The author is at home on boats big and small, like their schooner Anse La Roche Photo courtesy of Iliana Kazi Photograhy.
painted images left by First Nations who frequented these waters long before Vancouver.
The halcyon daze of Princess Louisa was destined to end. We began to turn our focus back to what had now become lesser realities, although everything seemed to beckon us to stay, including a looming low-pressure front that had been working its way north and was closing on our hidden paradise. We awoke the following morning to a disparate scene. Rain pattered on the canvas enclosure, and a low, mysterious fog lay trapped beneath the steep surroundings. We weren’t the only ones with places to be, and a small exodus of vessels marched back toward the rapids.
Once through, we were met with a one-two punch right to the teeth. Twenty-five knots of cold, hard air and a steep breaking sea were blitzkrieging their way up Jervis Inlet. Both Lore and the 4-horse Mercury were immediately thrust into their greatest testing ground with no viable retreat. I’ve been told
that the fundamentals of seamanship are: keep the water in the people, keep the water out of the boat, and keep the people out of the water. We were hoping for two out of three.
Lore bashed along violently, and we did our level best to hang on. Anything not properly stowed was airborne, and Lore’s bilge pump was working hard to keep up with the spray and occasional green water being shipped over the bow. After the first hour, our nerves had numbed, and we settled into the discomfort. The motor ran steadily, the pump kept up, and we received the occasional, comforting encouragement from new friends over the VHF radio as they passed us by, no doubt sipping tea and warming their feet by the stove. After eight hours of torment, the wind simply vanished, and the sea lay flat as if nothing had ever happened. We motored the final two hours in silence and, upon reaching Egmont, we found ourselves bellied up to the marina bar.
Jordy was a complete trooper through
the entire experience, although it may not have been her personal passion. Not just this trip but the many warm-up missions that preceded it. The nights spent shivering under the brown tarp; the wet, splashy crossings of various straits; even the way the bunk boards would pinch our hind quarters when you sat up just wrong on the sleeping platform—she soldiered on without a complaint, although I could sense that I had asked, and received, more than enough.
Indeed, the Salish Sea felt big again. And though I’d seen one of its unquestioned highlights, I couldn’t wait to see more of it with Lore
Kevin Pratt is a lifelong adventurer and professional mariner. Owner of Sail Anacortes and skipper to the schooner Anse La Roche, he finds fulfillment in the ebb-and-flow balance between the complexities of fatherhood, family life, mowing the lawn, and longing for whatever lies beyond the horizon.
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THURSDAY - SATURDAY 9:30 AM - 3:30 PM
RACE WEEK BELLINGHAM 2025
Race Week is the centerpiece of many Pacific Northwest racers’ calendars, and has been for decades. In recent years, it has changed homeports and racing areas a couple of times, but its primary draws endure, and it really is the soul of summer sailing for many around the region.
This year, Race Week debuted in its new surroundings of Bellingham and, by all accounts and in pretty much every way, the regatta experience was stellar. There was breeze every day, all day on Bellingham Bay, summer sun, fabulous competition and learning on the water, great live music and themed parties, and the special connections that form or are reinvigorated during a lengthy event like Race Week. One sailor visiting from outside the area (who happens to be a big-wig for an international
sailmaker) told a race week sponsor he thought this is the best regatta… anywhere.
The fleet that assembled in Bellingham consisted of 44 boats, and offered an extraordinary range of size and style. The smallest were a fleet of seven Melges 15s who raced only on the first three days. It’s remarkably cool to see boats that small sharing the course with some seriously fast 50-footers. There were other one-design classes—J/70s and the ten J/105s representing the largest class on the water—as well as varied handicap fleets with two classes racing under ORC and two under PHRF.
For a great window into the 2025 Race Week experience, here’s a report from Tom Perry, who shares the story of racing his B-25, Blur.
Photo by Jan Anderson.
ISUNSHINE AND BREEZE, COMPETITION, CAMARADERIE, AND GOOD CHAOS
BLUR’S RACE WEEK 2025
f I ever had to introduce someone to the sport of sailing, Race Week Bellingham 2025 would’ve been the perfect way to do so—equal parts sunshine, adrenaline, tactical puzzles, and humbling misadventures. Five days of racing on Bellingham Bay brought starts from clean to full-faceplant, winning calls and navigational toe-stubs, and a whole lot of champagne sailing to smooth over a few of the mistakes that make you question your life choices.
We trailered our boat, Blur, up from Shilshole on Sunday, rigged her, splashed, and tucked into Squalicum Harbor in postcard perfect summertime conditions—70 degree sunshine making snowcapped mountains shimmer above the bay. What a welcome, Race Week had officially begun!
DAY ONE: SUNSHINE, SPEED, AND A LITTLE BIT OF CHAOS
The week opened with three races in a steady 13–15 knots that gradually tapered as the day went on. We had a secret weapon aboard: guest tactician Alex Simanis of Ballard Sails. From tuning the rig to sail trim adjustments, Alex played boat whisperer and elevated our game immediately.
I admit it, starts are my favorite part of racing. The electric energy, the jostling, a little chaos and a bit of yelling, the surge of adrenaline—when you pop off the line with clean air and good speed, there’s nothing like it. Monday's starts were aggressive and fun!
We began the day sailing clean and fast and posted a third in race one. Race two was even better—we found our groove, hit our shifts, played the favored left side, and sailed to our first bullet of the week. Another third in race three left us sitting second overall in PHRF-B. It was our best opening day at any regatta, and I was over the moon. We joined the huge group of usual suspects and friendly new faces at the pavilion—beers in hand, sunburns glowing—and felt like rockstars, our tired bodies notwithstanding.
DAY TWO: THE TOW TRUCK TANGO
On paper, Bellingham is the ideal host: a charming college town, craft breweries, mountain views, and brilliant sailing conditions. But it comes with one quirk—Tuesday night street cleaning. At 2:30 a.m., tow trucks prowl downtown like apex predators, hauling away unsuspecting cars. Two of our crew vehicles, including mine, were snatched and ransomed. By the time we recovered them, I was tired, grumpy, under-caffeinated, and nursing a lighter wallet. Not the ideal pre-race mindset.
That fatigue carried onto the water, where there was a bit of fog to start the day. The breeze was a little lighter to 8–10 knots, the fog burned off into sunshine, and the starting line trended toward demolition derby. The protest room did brisk business that evening. Our starts were “interpretive” at best—late, early, or just plain wrong. Blur’s willing speed helped us salvage a few places, but mostly we found ourselves farther back in the field that day.
by Tom Perry
Still, we found glimmers. The fleet began to spread tactically— less of the automatic “bang the left corner” play, and some gains could be found sneaking right on the beats. We clawed out a third in the final race, which felt like a moral victory after a rocky morning.
That evening’s party pavilion theme? Christmas in July—tacky sweaters, fake snow, and rum drinks in Santa mugs. Cheers to that!
DAY THREE: EVERYTHING HURTS, BUT WE’RE FAST
By midweek, the romance of Race Week started to feel a little, well, sore. Every muscle ached, my knees crackled like Rice Krispies, and even my fingertips were tender. But pain aside, Day Three was magic.
The wind held steady at 10–15 knots with enough shifts to keep it interesting, and our class sailed four races. Consistency was our story: a string of thirds with sharp crew work, smooth roundings, and even communication. Best of all, my starts were the chef’s kiss. We hit the line powered up, in phase, and ahead of the fleet in almost every race. After Tuesday’s flailing, the turnaround felt euphoric.
The crew was clicking, too. We found a tighter leeward mark rounding maneuver on the fly that shaved seconds off each leg. That’s what a week like this does—five straight days of racing improves everything. By the time I’m back at Shilshole, I feel like a finely-tuned monster.
Sure, we were sore, but the vibe on the boat was so good, the learning was real, and our performance was trending up.
DAY FOUR: WE CHOSE POORLY
Thursday brought the pursuit race—a 20-mile loop from the harbor south to Eliza Island, around Vendovi and Viti Rocks, and back. The kicker: you had to choose whether to sail the course clockwise or counterclockwise. Each boat got its own staggered start time, and if everyone sailed perfectly, we’d all cross at the same time.
With no local knowledge and nothing but weather apps, tide
Day three of Race Week found the Blur crew hitting their stride, from starts to speed to crew work.
Photo by Jan Anderson.
It's easy to smile on sunny, windy spinnaker runs when you're dialed in with good friends. Photo courtesy of Tom Perry.
charts, and hunches, we gambled on counterclockwise. Cue the Indiana Jones scene when the villain chooses the wrong grail and turns to dust: “He chose… poorly.”
We started strong in 16–20 knots, with reefed main and #2 headsail, Blur charging upwind like she was on rails. But then the current turned traitor. Every tack felt like pushing uphill on a treadmill. We pinballed around Viti Rocks in slow motion, watching our rivals disappear over the horizon. Nothing dramatic, death by a thousand paper cuts compounded into a tactical shipwreck and last place.
By the time we hoisted the chute for the downwind run home, the boat flew but the ride was a quiet mix of resignation and reflection. We finished still clinging to third overall by a thread. Every sailor knows this truth: some days, you just get humbled. Thursday was our turn. But despite the tactical trainwreck, the conditions were stunning, the wind was exhilarating, and Bellingham once again served up a spectacular day on the water.
DAY FIVE: BIG BREEZE, BIGGER BEATING
The final day dawned with whitecaps already flecking the bay. The breeze was a steady 18–20 knots with steep chop, and we were shorthanded—down a crew member when we needed weight on the rail most.
Three races, three slugfests. Blur was quick and pointing well enough, but we were overpowered and getting tossed about, every maneuver demanding more bodies than we had. We were overwhelmed, physically and tactically, and it showed in the results—fifths and sixths were all we could manage. It was the kind of day that rewards a fully crewed, dialed-in team, and punishes anyone who isn't.
By the time we rolled the boat back onto the trailer, I was utterly drained—salt-crusted, bruised, completely wiped. We finished fourth overall, just missing the podium. Disappointing? Sure, but this was our best Race Week result ever. We held third place for three out of five days, and had some of our cleanest, fastest sailing ever. The competition was fierce but fun—especially with the J/27 Zephyr and her crew, who ultimately edged us out for third. Racing them was an absolute blast. The kind of rivalry where you’re trading barbs, cheering each other on, and cracking jokes every time your boats cross paths. That’s what good racing is all about.
So there you have it, the Blur skipper’s excellent recap of a full, fast, fun week at Race Week Bellingham. Perry’s compatriots in PHRF-B pushed him to the limit. In the end it was the Cal 39 Back Bay taking the class win ahead of the Santana 30/30 Jasmina and Blur’s sparring partners on Zephyr. Perennial Race Week attendees and consistent performers on the Dash 34 Mad Dash stood atop the PHRF-A podium with a single-point edge over the fast-sailing locals on the Beneteau 36.7 Vitesse
In ORC-A, the biggest, fastest boats on the water, another longtime Race Week participant, Charlie Macaulay led his friends and family team on Farr 39ML Absolutely to the win ahead of the accomplished sailors on the Santa Cruz 52 Rosebud
ORC-B's group of fast mostly 30-something boats went to yet another Race Week regular, John Hoag’s 1D35, Shrek Always well sailed, the Shrek team was on fire in Bellingham, winning every race and sailing into the coveted winner’s circle for the Race Week Overall title. Congrats!
The J/105s saw 48° North’s #1 Race Boat of the year for 2024, John Aitchison’s Moose Unknown, continue to display their speed and smarts with a dominant performance. Rounding out the podium were Jaded and Panic
Paul Garner’s Jabberwocky sailed to a class win in the J/70s, followed by Mike Powell’s Tally-Ho! and Boris Luchterhand’s Riff. And the Melges 15 class went to Brian Savery’s Bote Blanco who outdueled longtime Race Week supporter Paul Krak Arntson on Arntson Marine
John Hoag's 1D35 Shrek won every race, taking home the overall title for Race Week 2025. Photo by Jan Anderson.
Around the fleet, in vessels and classes both large and small, from Race Week lifers to first time participants, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who didn’t think 2025’s Race Week Bellingham was a genuine all-timer. This was the kind of week when a less-than-ideal finishing position in your class couldn't dampen your spirits. This experience with this group of people is the stuff of dreams.
Race Week Bellingham was a display of good times and success on every level—the committee ran a stellar event, the organizing was spot-on with terrific parties, and there was a smooth competitor experience throughout.
Perry summed it up beautifully, “This week was a gift. Five straight days of champagne sailing, steady breeze, and great people. I’ve never seen a Race Week deliver so consistently on conditions. I’m running on adrenaline and ibuprofen, totally wrung out, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. We left it all on the water. And that, my friends, is how you finish a regatta.”
Full results at www.raceweekpnw.com
Photos courtesy of Jan Anderson.
Tom Perry's B-25, Blur, had a great week in Bellingham.
Photo by Jan Anderson.
COW BAY REGATTA 2025 HAVE YOU HEARD OF THE HERD?
The Cow Bay Regatta has become my favorite sailing/racing event of the year. Cowichan Bay, British Columbia, is absolutely stunning with beautiful hills and mountains surrounding the bay. The geography also provides favorable conditions— as the land heats up, the wind starts to build—that’s when, as the locals say, “The doctor is in.” A crewmate asked if we were going to practice in the morning before the race. I grinned as I explained that there is no wind in the morning—that the calm, flat state of the water in the morning is one of the simple pleasures of Cow Bay. Instead of sailing, it’s an invitation to enjoy a quiet morning on the Airbnb deck watching the seagulls and, if you’re lucky, an occasional bald eagle. Or it can be a chance to enjoy some of the non-sailing fun to be found in the area.
I was fortunate to be a part of the Farr 36 Wicked Sister program for Cow Bay this year, as I was last year. The boat is owned by Jerry McKay and his lovely wife, Chona. After racing their J/130 in the South Sound, they are having a lot
of fun with something a little sportier in the Farr 36. Jerry and I have been sailing together on and off for more than 20 years—he’s a longtime friend, and a good sailor with a big heart.
The crew assembled on Thursday night, aside from a pair of stragglers joining the next day. The good times with this superb group of sailors and people started immediately. Several, like Galan Potter and JC Bitseff, had sailed Cow Bay with me previously. Others I know through the Glory program, like Bob Pistay and Rob Lindley—both extraordinary sailors, fantastic teachers, and great friends. Another crew, Alex Shemwell, and Rob brought crucial Farr 36 experience to the team; Alex from trimming on sistership Annapurna and Rob on this very boat back when it was new. Energetic and dedicated Ian rounded out our crew.
Before the racing even got started, we were having a grand time on the water. Slightly north of Cow Bay is Cowichan Lake, where we went to while away a hot and sunny Friday afternoon, relaxing on rented one-man tubes and floating down a lazy river for a couple of hours. Rested
by Leif Fuhriman
The author in his happy place, racing with friends on Cow Bay.
and sunkissed, we were ready for some buoy racing.
The conditions for sailing in Cow Bay tend to be very consistent and steady with “the doctor coming in” around 9:30 or 10 a.m., and races starting at 11 a.m. Flat water is the norm on Cow Bay, and the first race sent us upwind to Patey Rocks and then a leeward mark before the finish—a simple 10-mile course, one that we sailed several times throughout the weekend.
Our class was a varied and competitive group of the fastest monohulls at the regatta, and as racing got underway we got a good sense of the fleet dynamics. We were the fastest rated boat in the group, but knew we were racing very well sailed boats including the J/111 65 Red Roses, J/109 Double Time, Aerodyne 38 Kairos, Flying Tiger 10 My-Tai, and the J/112e Mystery. As the first race unfolded in light to medium wind, the talented sailors on 65 Red Roses beat us to the weather mark, but once Wicked Sister turned downwind, we sailed faster and reached the leeward mark slightly ahead, finishing first; third after the time correction. The second race was in similar conditions and yielded similar results, though we corrected into second this time.
For Saturday’s third race, the wind picked up and Wicked Sister got to show a bit of her speed, as we ran downwind on plane at 16 knots with Rob working the vang like a kite sheet. We flew by wide-eyed sailors in the Martin 242 and smaller boat fleets. After a fast and fun spinnaker run to the bottom of the bay and a short upwind to the finish, we crossed the line at least four minutes ahead of the competition—our best race
of the regatta, and a bullet to wrap-up a terrific Saturday on Cow Bay.
Back at the dock on the 48-foot Grand Banks, Quest, owned by Bob and Andi Pistay, we relished the satisfaction of being first to finish in all three races for the day, even though we knew 65 Red Roses corrected ahead on the first two. Advil and Tylenol were on the menu for the sore and tired after such a full day of fun sailing in spectacular weather in a stunning setting.
Saturday night’s BBQ is a highlight of the event each year. Plump, juicy steaks grilled to perfection, with baked potatoes and salad (served out of a dinghy by my better half, Jennifer, at the request of the crowd!) accompanying the delicious meat options. Dinner was followed by a dance party with a DJ and lots of glow accessories this year. This is a regatta party done right!
Come Sunday, our crew may have been sore, but we were ready to go. We headed out as “the doctor came in” and we got into race mode. The first race brought us familiar results, second to round the upwind mark, first to finish, just not far enough ahead of 65 Red Roses to get the first-place pennant. The final race of the weekend proceeded similarly, but was the weekend’s best showing for Double Time, who took the race win and by doing so, they got us on the tie-break for second in class behind 65 Red Roses. All in all, we were very happy to have finished first in every race of the regatta, and a third in this competitive class was something to be proud of.
Of course, we were not the only class out there. An impressive group of fast multihulls assembled for some great racing—this year to contest the NW Multihull Championship. The wide ranging fleet had a rating band that spanned 99 seconds per mile under PHRF. In the end, the slowest rated boat in the fleet, Eric Pesty’s Geneva (the skipper and vessel of R2AK singlehanded record fame) would take the class win ahead of two boats that rated 93 and 96 seconds per mile faster respectively, F-85SR Mail Order Bride and F-9AR Redshift
It was also a fleet championship for the Martin 242s, who had the largest class with 17 boats racing. Their hotly contested one-design group was topped
by Robert Britten’s No Worries. Michael Clements’s Too Wicked and Alex Fox’s Crantini rounded out the podium.
Around the fleet, other class wins went to Paul Faget’s Left Coast Dart Ogopogo, Ron Turner’s Tartan 3700 Blue Shift, Paul Gibson’s Hotfoot 27 NVS, and Graham Heath’s Windward 30 Pitoraq
The Race Committee had a busy couple of days with the maximum allowed 70 boats out on the water, but did an excellent job. The races were efficient and run without much delay—no time to dawdle with your sandwich with this committee.
Attending the Cow Bay Regatta is now an adventure that I excitedly look
forward to annually. When I was asked to be on the planning committee years ago, I felt it was an honor and I happily accepted immediately, and it remains fun and rewarding to be a part of this event and group of people. Exposing my friends and fellow sailors to such fantastic sailing in a stunning setting along with all the many shoreside delights is a highlight of my sailing year. And that was especially true this year, as our rag tag Wicked Sister team had a fantastic time on and off the water! I encourage more boats around the region to come check out Cow Bay in the future. Once you do, you’ll be proud to count yourself as “part of the herd.”
Full results at: www.cowbay-regatta.ca
A river float got the regatta weekend off to a relaxing start.
The Wicked Sister team. Photo by Jennifer Mathis.
55th SHAW ISLAND CLASSIC
by Peg Gerlock
The story of this year’s 55th Shaw Island Classic hosted by the San Juan Island Yacht Club (SJIYC) begins with a remarkable finish—the Martin 242, Purple Martin , skippered by Betsy Wareham, was the only boat in a fleet of 35 to complete the full course, placing first in the PHRF-C division, first on elapsed time, and first on corrected time.
Saturday, August 9th was a picture-perfect day to be on the water but promised to be challenging due to light winds and a nine-foot tidal change. This unique race starts and ends in Friday Harbor rounding Shaw Island in either direction with a mid-course boat recording times in case no one finishes the full course.
Most of the fleet attempted a counterclockwise course betting there was enough wind at the start to make it to Turn Rock and catch the flood in Upright Channel. This would allow them to ride the current through the notoriously narrow and windless Wasp Passage.
“We were going to go counterclockwise, but I kept looking at the wind coming down San Juan Channel and there was no wind ahead to the east. We started going east but that northerly breeze changed my mind and off we went clockwise,” said Betsy Wareham. “We set the kite going into Wasp Passage and kept to the Shaw shore until Horton’s Hook, then jibed out past Bell Island reef. We had breeze until just past Broken Point where we ran into converging winds. The easterly won out and we were moving again, but, uh-oh, here came the leaders of the counterclockwise boats [across the mid-course line]. So, we figured we had to make it all the way around to win and hope they ran into dead air!”
Dead air indeed! The lack of wind spurred creative strategy and tactical maneuvers. Matt Wallis, skipper of Pulelehua, a Dash 34 and first-place winner of the PHRF-A division on mid-course time going counterclockwise shared his strategy. “After the start, we took a flyer, sailing back through the harbor and around Brown Island to use a shore breeze and avoid the currents in San Juan Channel. It worked as planned, however once we got to the narrow, rocky exit channel there were light shifty winds and strong currents. We were able to string together a few puffs to get out—barely.”
“Big flood, no wind. Find back eddies. Go to Turn Rock, cross fingers for a little breeze and make it across,” said Boris Luchterhand, skipper of Riff, a J/70 and winner in the PHRF-B division on mid-course time going counterclockwise. “Battling through the [Wasp] passage and coming out, we hesitated going to Shaw or cross to San Juan. Shaw was money. We passed the fleet who went to San Juan. But then we saw the black pearl aka Betsy and gang on Purple Martin miraculously appear as the only clockwise boat. What? How? They beat us all. Kudos Betsy!”
Spirits were high as racers gathered at the lovely SJIYC clubhouse overlooking the harbor for post-race banter and a hearty lasagna dinner served by the First Mates. Thank you to the Washington State Ferry captains who maintained communication with the race committee and, once again, carefully maneuvered through the racing fleet.
Complete results and photos are posted at sjiyc.com/shaw
The overall winner, Purple Martin, flies their chute through Wasp Passage. Photo by Sue Corenman.
Photo by Peg Gerlock.
The winning team from Purple Martin. Photo by Jim Corenman.
CLASSIFIEDS
BOATS FOR SALE
1983 J29
6 sails: 3 Spinnakers, 2 #1 Genoas, like new Dacron Main, all sails lightly used. Ready to race, Micron22 on the bottom. Fast, fun boat to sail. It will out perform most 40 footers on any point of sail. I have had many boats over the years and this is definitely the most fun boat to sail. Honda 8 HP outboard runs great and is very quiet. 6+ Kt under power. » Contact Tim Rogers • (360) 215-0419 • timr2157@gmail.com • $14,500
LIKE-NEW
$137,500
1990 PACIFIC SEACRAFT 37
WELL MAINTAINED AND WELL OUTFITTED
Plenty of recent upgrades across electronics, engine, safety, sails, running and standing rigging, ground tackle. She comes with dinghy, outboard, monitor windvane, watermaker, solar. ~2,150 hours on yanmar. Spinnaker. Diesel heater. Winter boat cover. Pedigree blue water cruiser which also functions as a PNW liveaboard. » Contact Gary • gobillsgary@gmail.com • $137,500
$30,000
BLUE WATER INGRID 38.
Ketch, hull, deck spars, keel engine mast hardware made and installed by Blue Water, interior finished by owner in Santa Cruz. Purchased 1977 launched 1982. Minimal electronics, VHF, Radar, Depth sounder, Dickenson diesel stove, Glacier Bay refrigeration, Volvo MB3D, Skipper head. This boat loves the sea, has been south to Cabo San Lucas and North to Juno Alaska and beyond. » Contact Ethan Currier • (203)364-7146 • mygreenboat@gmail.com • $30,000
$35,500
BOATS FOR SALE
2017 DARK HARBOR 26'
PACIFIC TRAWLER 40 ENDURANCE
Powered by John Deere, averaging 2.2 gallons per hour. An Alaska and British Columbia veteran, ENDURANCE easily circumnavigated Vancouver Island. Her storage capacity, auxiliary generator, diesel heat, water maker, and general amenities make her an ideal couple’s boat. Equipped with a bow and stern thruster, close-quarter maneuvering is easily accomplished. For information please visit: https://pacifictrawler.com » Contact Stephen Makar • (509) 599-5549 • sgm-2@ msn.com • $249,000 $249,000
Beautiful plank-on-frame construction Dark Harbor 17 1/2 (25’ 10 LOA). Built in 2017, “Kotimana” offers the classic lines of this B.B. Crowinshield gaff rig design. Torqeedo electric sail drive with two brand new batteries, sail and boat covers, mast stripped and varnished Nov 2024, fresh topcoat and bottom paint Nov 2024, she is in excellent condition and looking for her next owner. » Contact Paul G Webster • (425) 444-1580 • pgwebster9@gmail.com • $35,500
2003 JEANNEAU SUN ODYSSEY 40
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 $135,000
$98,656
GRAND ALASKAN 46
Hull 15 Built Hong Kong Mahogany plank Yakal frames designed Art DeFever. Recent hull survey. Princess propane Nova Kool fridge freezer deep freeze washer dryer Espar, two heads separate shower 350 gal water 780 gal diesel 120 Lehman diesels Raymarine C140W Radar 380 W solar Victron controllers. A great little liveabourd ship with fuel efficient hull » Contact Denis • denis@deniswoodske.ca • $98,656
2014 BENETEAU OCEANIS 45
3 Cabin, 2 Heads/Showers. Fully Off-Shore Sailing equipped: Furnace Heater, Fresh Water Maker, 650W Solar, Hydrovane, Full Cockpit Enclosure, Extra water and fuel tanks, Digital Engine Gauges, Radar, Gennaker Sail, Jordan Series Drogue. Singlehanded sailing with furling main and jib, 3 Power Winches. Winter Boat Cover. Excellent Condition. » Contact Malcolm Crow • (250) 418-5196 • mpcrow1965@gmail.com • $322,500 $322,500
$15,000
1969 CAL CRUISING 36
Lapworth “deck saloon” design, wonderful sailer, simple and robust cruiser. Schattauer main and 120, line ctrl cars, rigid vang, new chainplates. 4-108 w 3K hrs, 85 gal fuel, 3x gp31 AGM. Lewmar CQR 35 lb, 140’ 5/16” BBB + 300 ft 9/16” nylon, elec windlass, BG plotter, 4G bb radar. Hard dodger, mast pulpit. Wallas 30DT heater, Force 10 LPG range, Alpenglow lights, Lavac head, 70 gal water. » Contact wwsorcas@gmail.com • $15,000
$35,000
BENETEAU OCEANIS 321 1996
Freshwater only – located Flathead Lake Mt. Roller furling main and genoa. Yanmar 3GM30F 1400 hrs. Steel Cradle for dry storage. Shoal draft (4.5’) bulb keel. Zodiac dinghy with electric propulsion. New sunbrella full winter cover, bimini frame. Bottom paint 2025. Everything works. Many extras including storm jib, Ardic diesel cabin heater » Contact Les F Whitney • (406) 239-9694 • wsid301@hotmail.com • $35,000
“TOM” is a Garden 12 ft 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 • $5,000 $5,000
$49,900
2016 BILL GARDEN TOMCAT 12' CATBOAT
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
CAMPO DESIGN '81 34'x11'x6' WOOD CUTTER ABRAZO EXPEDITION YACHT 150 hrs. Beta diesel. 140 gal. diesel, 150 gal. 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
Recently restored custom ketch built in Seattle, WA. Very sea-kindly and easy to single hand, she has been a live-aboard her entire life. Located in Vancouver, BC, Canada in a legal, live-aboard co-operative marina. Option to purchase a share in this marina to continue living-aboard (lets you skip the 12-year waitlist!) » Contact Nancy Frosst • (604) 765-7768
• marinerboatforsale@gmail.com
• $150,000
RARE SAGE 17 NEN
An adaptation of the original Catspaw Dinghy carvel plank design to strip plank construction which consists of 1 X 1/2 inch yellow cedar strips edge-glued. The inside and outside are fiber glassed. Transom and seating are French mahogany. There is no internal frame making the interior smooth and uncluttered. » Contact David H Lester • (253) 670-3033
• dhlester@gmail.com • $9,950 $9,950
$6,000
HVALSOE 16 WOODEN ROWING BOAT
Hvalsoe 16 rowing boat, 3⁄8” Western red cedar over white oak bent frames, mahogany stem and transom, hardwood scantlings, copper and bronze fastenings. Custom cover. 15’ 9” long, 4’ 6” beam, minimum 1’ 6” draft, 7’ oars, 3 rowing stations. For three adults or two adults and two kids. Search Google, or go to https://smallboatsmonthly.com/article/the-hvalsoe-16/ » Contact Robert Piston • (509) 724-6710 • chstaple@gmx.com • $6,000
Hull #31, one of the last boats built by Dave Scobie. Near perfect condition. Includes Pacific trailer with tongue extension, 2HP Honda long shaft motor, custom electrical system, all LED lights, Rocna 9LB anchor with 25’ chain and 300’ of rode, and other goodies. Unique Solent storm sail setup (roller furling sail hoisted just aft of the headstay). With the roller reefing 130 headsail, the Solent offers an effective storm sail option. Kept covered. Please no brokers!
» Contact Richard L Proctor • Text (206) 817-4410 • rickproctor@nwi.net • $28,000 $28,000
1977 19’
Restored 2024. New Tohatsu 6hp long shaft w/tank. Mainsail, Genoa & Spinnaker. Newly painted hull & deck. New teak trim varnished. All new Harken hardware (winches, sail tracks). Aluminum mast (25’) & spinnaker pole. Bow pulpit. New operable port lites. Cockpit & interior cushions. Anchor & line. Fenders & mooring lines. Boarding ladder. » Contact Roger
CATSPAW DINGHY DEJA VU STRIP PLANK VERSION
1941 ED MONK SR. 47' CUSTOM KETCH
MARINE EQUIPMENT
2012 40’ GARTSIDE YAWL LA VIE EN ROSE
This gorgeous Bermudian Double Ended Yawl was designed by Paul Gartside, built by Jespersen Boat Builders in B.C., Canada and launched in 2012. The Hull is cold-molded with Western Red Cedar, Douglas Fir, Fiberglass and West Systems Epoxy. The boat is beautiful, incredibly well-built and ready to sail for any horizon! View article: https://www.woodenboat.com/onlineexclusives/la-vie-en-rose » Contact (360) 316-9370 • Rob@PortTownsendBoatCo.com • $249,900 $249,900
PARTNERSHIPS
SAILBOAT SHARE
1/3 sailboat share available in Kia Ora, a 2001 Hunter 340. Partnership has been active since 2008. Cost is $16K and $300 per month for moorage, maintenace, documentation, and insurance. » Contact lrschultz@comcast.net • $16,000
In box, as new. Incompatible with my current electronics, so I am offering it to you. Works, clean, ready to install. Wires even stripped back to connect to your chart plotter. » Contact Robert A. Salmons • (510) 409-0729 • bobandmilly@yahoo.com • $320
Available September 8 until June 1, on San Juan Island (Friday Harbor). Hard to find location, and great slip. Great location, just 5 minute walk from ferry terminal in Friday Harbor. Additional photos available on request. First and Last month rent required. » Contact Mark • (206) 240-6978 • scheerlaw10@gmail.com • $450/month
BAY MARINA
VESSEL MOVING
REDUCED MONTEREY
66’ GORBON 66 ’97
$425,000
....................
“BAJAVENTO” A luxurious performance vessel that can easily be sailed shorthanded. Professionally maintained. Cruise in style and comfort.
54’ ROBERTS 54 ’79
$225,000
....................
“SPIRIT” Rugged bluewater vessel designed with comfort and safety in mind. Nicely upgraded.Coast Guard Certified for up to 42 passengers.
37’ ISLAND PACKET 370 ’08
$229,000
....................
“PELICAN” Extensively upgraded, fully equipped, and maintained to the highest standards. Better than new and ready to go right now!
70’ SANTA CRUZ 70 ’85 $199,000 “CHARDONNAY III”Turnkey Subchapter T vessel ready for business. Swift boat with charter slip and management available.
53’ SOUTHERN OCEAN GALLANT 53 ’70 $124,900 “AUNTIE” Beautiful lines and superb proportions. No crew needed. This one completed a solo circumnavigation.
49’ OCEAN CATAMARAN 49 ’00 $149,000 “LICKETYSPLIT”Fast-cruising catamaran recently updated with new sails and electronics. She’s priced to sell NOW!
46’ HUNTER 460 ’00
$105,000 “ALE ER RON” Versatile yacht for liveaboard, easy daysails or serious ocean passages. Reasonable offers considered.
Lightly used and well maintained. Upgraded electronics. Great for a single-hander or a small family.
Hunter 44 Deck Salon
Ranger Tugs R-29
Bracewell Pacesetter
Barefoot is an aluminum expedition sailing yacht designed by renowned naval architect Angelo Lavranos and built by Dearden Marine in British Columbia. Her design emphasizes offshore performance, safety, and reliability, with a rugged long fin keel, watertight welded aluminum hull and deck, and insulated interior for comfort in both high latitudes and tropics. Her owner, an experienced sailor with more than 60,000 ocean miles before Barefoot, incorporated this extensive experience into build details and systems fitout. A powerful rig includes a full sail inventory optimized for shorthanded offshore sailing. Steering and autopilot systems are robust and redundant, and tankage is extensive, including integrated diesel and water tanks within the keel. Below deck, Barefoot’s layout is designed for life at sea, with dedicated mechanical room and an interior with master cabin forward, spacious salon, U-shaped galley and a open quarterberth aft. Barefoot is a well-engineered, expertly built yacht for serious bluewater voyaging.
