Life's a giggle

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June 1- Day 1 (Tacoma to Port Townsend)
We wake just before 4am. Captain Dave passive-aggressively says “No, don‘t you guys worry, I’ll do this part. You guys just sleep in“. A little stung, we all got up anyway as this was our last chance for a shower. Confused, I wondered how in our sleep we had somehow pissed him off. For six months I had been mentally preparing for this moment, and physically for last three weeks, so I have to admit there was some disappointed. But I was also amenable, trying to put myself in his shoes- a captain heading off on a trip for five months wanting to double check everything was set up and working correctly.

We stood by idiotically while he ran around the boat in the dark like a mad-man doing everything himself- setting the sails, untying the bow, stern and spring lines while simultaneously reversing the 42ft boat from the dock. For the first few hours we sat in silence, Dave muttering to himself, his anger boiling and boiling. It was just bizarre.

Finally after a few hours, he asked Valdas and I to take the helm as he and Marie went below to sleep. Valdas and I took turns and the two of us weaved our way through the ferry traffic and past the Seattle skyline. A couple of hours in, I did a 360 degree scan of the horizon (no boats), checked our bearing (we were on course) and the water temperature was ok (the single most important thing to watch while motoring). Then I went down to use the head (toilet). I’m just wshng my hands when I hear the engine gradually slow and then stop. Both Dave and I emerge to see why Valdas has stopped but he looks as baffled as us. Dave hits the roof. Screaming his head off. Swearing at us, that we let the engine get too hot. Not knowing if the engine could overheat in the 30seconds I had left Valdas’ side, I sat silently as Dave belittles us. After drifting a while as Dave banged around the engine he admits we ran out of gas. No apology for his behavior. We fill up from one of the fuel cans on board, and Dave takes the wheel. Another few hours of silence goes by before he explains his solo sailing tantrum was done to make the point that he didn’t need us on board. He could “do things F*&#ing 3-4 times faster than explaining it to you three”…“It’s a privilege for you to be here“. That evening we anchor in Port Townsend and not so convinced our passage was such an honor, the three of us held a crisis meeting. We were convinced he’s taken us aboard simply to stock the boat with food and alcohol. It was clear he was both broke and unstable. Despite everything, we decide to give him another day.

June 2- Day 2 (Port Townsend to Spencer Spit, Lopez Island in the San Juan Islands)
We started the day with a group meeting on why Dave had invited to teach us how to sail, when it was pretty clear he didn’t want us there. He explained he had a lot going on and people in Tacoma were screwing him over. The long and the short of it, we agreed to be more gracious (he mentioned a couple of times how it would have been nice if we had brought gifts in exchange for his knowledge) and he and asked us to bear with him until he was able to leave his stressed behind.

One hour later, the negative energy was back. Dave was ignoring me, and instead directed his moodiness at Marie, patronizingly sniping “do you understand English” when she would stare at him blankly, trying to comprehend his rudeness. After yelling at her for things like using too much milk or storing things in the wrong place, he asked her how to say “cleaning lady in Swedish”, then spent the afternoon barking an appalling pronunciation of “pull cleaning lady, pull” whenever she would set a sail.

Finally Dave asks me to join him down below. He said he was thinking of asking me to leave the boat because of the negative aspects I saw before we left (I.e., not paying his workers, fights he had with them, the all-round bad relations he had with everyone around him. There‘s plenty more but I‘ll leave that out). He essentially said he couldn’t relax with me around knowing what I know. Secretly relieved, I said not a problem I’d get off at the next stop. Then the conversation took a strange turn. For the next five minutes he did a complete circle and pleaded me to stay. Then the following five minutes he flipped again almost threatening me to make him want to have me around. I made up my mind he was crackers and it was only a matter of time until I was out of there.

The rest of the day was actually quite pleasant. In certain situations I’ve become quite good at being unaffected. So while the unpleasantness was going on around me, I was actually having a nice time, especially when sailing. And Marie and Valdas had joined the crew (FYI Shauna didn’t set sail with us, Dave wouldn’t pay her for her work so she opted to stay in Seattle with one of her new 22 year old beaus). Marie (a 35 year old Swede working in construction management has been living in South Africa and Australia for the last five years) and Valdas (53 year old Lithuanian-American masseuse living in South Carolina) were the perfect shipmates- fun, intelligent, lighthearted, conscientious, a real pleasure to be around. And I never felt unsafe, I knew I could always get off. I’d wake up every day for three weeks and with an approach of a fresh start. But how many red flags does someone need, and these flags were not just raised, but wildly flagging me down.

June 3- Day 3 (Spencer Spit to Friday Harbor, San Juan Island, San Juans)
My 30th birthday. Anchored off the Spencer Spit, I woke up to a gorgeous still bay. What a wonderful way to spend a birthday- waking up with the light, sipping coffee on the deck, the waves lapping at the shore from the occasional passing boat. A midday beachcombing, complete with fairies (a one and a three year old with glittery wings). We had a lovely sail up from Lopez island to Friday Harbor where we anchored.

And then the final straw came. While we wandered around this lovely little town the captain tried to cash a money order for $900- all the money he had for the next little while- and was told he couldn’t. He just blew up. He had absolutely no money, and no way of getting money other than from us. For the sake of grandparents, I‘ll say no more (throughout I’ve been overly generous and PG in my description of Dave’s antics- I‘ll tell the uncensored, unabridged version to anyone interested over hard liquor). But that was it.

Looking past Dave’s angry, bulging face at the gorgeous bay just over his shoulder, I thought about all the wonderful birthday wishes that were streaming in (thanks again- they really meant a lot) and decided this just wasn’t worth it. I knew Marie was thinking the exact same thing. Marie, Valdas and I had a quick crisis meeting and decided now was the time to flee. The only really unpleasant moment- when I was somewhat concerned for my safety- was on the boat ride back from town to the boat. The captain suggested we take a look around the harbor - 30minutes of intense silence. A quick sideways glance showed the captain’s face twitching, grumbling, biting his lip and sighing deeply- all I could think of was the possible ways he might react once we told him we were out of there. But after an uncomfortable but surprisingly calm discussion once we were back on board, Marie and I grabbed our stuff and jumped ship.

Well almost. On the way to shore, the boat fully loaded with our gear, the engine cuts out! It was a moment of surprising solidarity, Marie and I laughing, and even Dave chuckling at the hilarity of the situation. Grumbling something about a fuel filter and not getting a break, Dave gets to fixing the outboard while Marie and I grab paddles and start rowing us to shore grinning as only an escapee in such close reach of freedom can.

Within a couple of hours Marie and I had checked ourselves into a charming garden hostel, celebrated our escape over the 4 bottles of wine we took with us from the boat, and eaten a delicious dinner of oysters with hazelnuts and butter. The town’s local folk group playing at dinner sang me happy birthday over a piece of something that tasted the closest to sticky date pudding I’ve had in the US, before the band joined us at our table as we retold our ordeal. Marie and I ended the day back in the hostel garden, laughing and laughing. Happy 30th birthday to me! It was certaintly unforgettable.


A few days later, I’m still sitting here in the garden eating fresh local produce (hand made sourdough bread, goat cheese, sweet potato and sage ravioli with a burnt butter sauce, a side of peppery garden greens and a pinot noir ) thinking about what to do next. I’m back on find a crew to search out another boat. There are plenty around if I decide I have the energy for a second round. Incidentally, another captain I was going to crew with would still like me to join him- he‘s waiting the Whitsunday’s about to cross over the New Caledonia, Fiji, Samoa. I also walked around the marina here in Friday Harbor and in the north of the island at Roche Harbor and chatted to boats cruising the San Juan islands and Alaska. If neither of those work out, I’m thinking of visiting friends I met in Patagonia Rick and Bre on Quadra Island (off Vancouver Island) before maybe continuing up to Alaska overland, traveling through Canada, possibly wwoofing, going to Europe to join Mary Crooks, or just heading back to Australia. There’s plenty of options, and suggestions are welcome! Staying in the San Juans would work too. In less than 24hours, four people in town have all given me their numbers/addresses should I need anything.

Thanks for sticking out this long blog post. I promise to keep it brief from now on! Anyway, I want to end this installment with the following encounter. Earlier I wandered to the farmers markets to survey the local offerings. There I met Nick, an 81 year old sculptor. One of his sculptures really connected with me- a smooth black clay piece of an abstract human form. The rough definition of feet, legs and a head created the active movement of a human figure breaking out from an almost fetal position. - energizing and at the same calm and soothing. As I stood smiling at this particular sculpture, Nick approached and gave me the sculpture. I refused but he insisted that one of the reason he does his art is for moments like this. Finally, accepting my need to travel light, he agreed to keep the piece. Enjoying the bond, we chatted philosophically for almost an hour. Somewhere in the conversation I mentioned I had just turned 30. Nick smiled and said “wow, that’s wonderful. You have another 70 years ahead of you and life just gets better and better. You just get better. Wait 'til you get to 80, life’s a giggle“.

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