Valentines Day Cruise 2000—Circumnavigating Vashon
Looking over Patience's transom at Seattle. Elliott Bay Marina breakwater to left. February 18, 2000. The tide is high, so high in fact, that I can easily see over the Elliott Bay Marina breakwater just by climbing up a few of the Patience's mast steps. As I look across the expanse of Elliott Bay, there is little to see but sun and water. There are no clouds in the sky, and few boats on the Puget Sound. The winter sun has already passed its shallow noon zenith and will be setting in a few hours. I think to myself, it's a beautiful day to be out on the Puget Sound. Looks can be deceiving though—it's not always so nice here in the middle of winter. Almost exactly one year earlier, I was on my way to work, when one of our infamous windstorms swept through the area. The storm raged from the south, with winds gusting to 60 knots. The storm blew down trees and knocked out power. I stopped at the marina to check the boat and take a few pictures. I guess you never know when it's going to blow in the Puget Sound, and it is always wise to be prepared.
We depart Elliot Bay Marina at 2:30PM. It is officially our 5th Valentines Day celebration on the s/v Patience. Amy is below with our two-month-old daughter while I am up at the helm. We are virtually alone with the ferries as we motor across Elliott Bay and around Alki Point. It is a beautiful sunny day with a light 5 knot northerly. Looking south from Elliott Bay at Alki Point.
As we continue down the Puget Sound we stay near the eastern shoreline, or mainland. This part of the Sound is formally called the "East Passage" on charts, although I have never actually heard anyone refer to the passage by that name. Regardless, the passage is virtually free of dangers and navigation is simple to the point of being boring. We pass Lincoln Park and Coleman Pool on the mainland. Coleman Pool is an Olympic sized saltwater swimming pool—fortunately for swimmers, the seawater is heated. After passing Lincoln Park, we set course for familiar territory—Three Tree Point. Previously, Three Tree Point was charted as Point Pulley. Some time in the 1980s, NOAA caught up with local tradition and changed the name of the point to its local name. Given the name, one has to wonder where the three trees are or were. Having grown up on Three Tree Point, I also pondered this point (no pun intended), but never really determined where the three trees were. Chart of South Puget Sound with Patience's course noted.
We moved into our house on Three Tree Point around Thanksgiving 1976. Beach living was quite "uneventful" until the following Fourth of July. I will never forget waking up on that July 4th. Our normally quiet and peaceful beach was swarming with people. Scores of people were arriving at the point to attend parties up and down the beach. Throughout the day, partygoers wielded hammers to build massive bonfires. Most of the bonfires were quite elaborate and were built on stilts to survive high tide. Many bonfires featured the prior year's dried-up Christmas tree as a top-piece, while others were multi-floor masterpieces, laced with strings of firecrackers. All in all, it was quite a scene. Throughout the afternoon, illegal fireworks would whoosh off into the atmosphere and M-80's would thump and throw up waterspouts. Despite the amazing arsenal of illegal fireworks, the bonfires always stole the show at the end of the day. The fires were always lit around sundown. When there was no wind, a think poll of smoke would cling to the entire point as the fires crackled and burned the hair on our arms. If there was wind, the fires roared hot and we all collectively hoped and prayed through our drunken stupors that they wouldn't catch one of the cedar houses on fire. Fortunately, to my knowledge, none ever did. The next morning we would always walk the beach and collect washed-up fireworks and marvel and the carcasses left by the bonfires. I'm not sure if this tradition has been continued, but those were fun days. The Wahington State Ferry 'Sealth' headed eastbound for Seattle. Beautiful Mount Rainier in the background.
Still reminiscing, I take the Patience to the north side of the point and transit down the beach where we used to live and launch bottle rockets. It is literally like motoring through the backyards of old neighbors. Some things are unchanged; in other places, new houses have popped up where one would have thought there was only space for a beach cabana. We finally reach the end of the point and admire the house that is actually built on the end of the point itself. While the house isn't an architectural masterpiece, the 270-degree view is stunning. Leaving Three Tree astern, I set course for Point Robinson, the southeastern corner of what is officially called Maury Island, although we always considered Maury as part of Vashon Island. When we are about parallel with Tramp Harbor, I watch the nearly full moon rise over Normandy Park, while the sun begins to set in the southwest. We spent much of our childhood in quiet Normandy Park, but the city didn't achieve its moment in the spotlight until the classy Mary Kay LeTourneau decided to sleep with one of her students. As opposed to the sad LeTourneau story, the moonrise over Normandy Park is quite beautiful. Sunset at Point Robinson. Looking south at Mount Rainier.
Tramp Harbor to the east is hardly deserving of the designation of "harbor". Chapman's defines a harbor as "a safe anchorage, protected from most storms..." Exposed to the North, East, Southeast and potentially the Southwest, Tramp Harbor is not my idea of a safe overnight anchorage for small craft. Perhaps Tramp "Crescent" would be more appropriate. About 600 feet behind Tramp Harbor is the Northeast end of Quartermaster harbor. A narrow isthmus divides the two harbors and connects Maury and Vashon Islands. If you're curious, like me, you might be tempted to take a dingy to the isthmus and stroll across. I tried this very thing when I was younger. For some reason it was not as easy as it looks like it should be—I was never successful.
As we round Point Robinson the sun goes down. It is quite a beautiful site—a big bright full moon rising in the east over Des Moines and the winter sun setting in the west. I watch as the colors get progressively deeper and the Puget Sound gets progressively calmer. Mount Rainier looms up 14,410 feet directly off our starboard beam. The summit of Rainier is only 41 nautical miles away (as the crow flies) from us, but feels much closer. Rainier and the windows of homes south of Des Moines catch the last rays of sun. We continue down the south side of Maury Island, just staying out of the shipping lanes. Much of the south side of Maury Island has a precipitous 300–400 foot cliff I never really noticed before. We slowly pass an area on the south side of Maury we used to refer to as the "sandpits". As kids we used to come by boat from Des Moines to the sandpits for day-trips and play on the nice beach. Commencement Bay. Tacoma and Mount Rainier.
If you are lucky enough to cruise the cruise the south sound in clear weather, you will feel like you are always in the shadow of Mount Rainier. The mountain is the highest and third most voluminous volcano of the Cascade Range. It dwarfs all nearby peaks and anchors the southern skyline. If the mountain were ever to blow, changing one's course to due north and pushing down throttle is probably advised. Mount Rainier's snow-encrusted mantle apparently boasts 25 times as much snow and ice as Mount St. Helens (which blew in May 1980). Experts say that the floods and mudflows that could result from an eruption could be devastating; potentially reaching as far as the Puget Sound, Tacoma and even the suburbs of Seattle. Despite its potential danger, the mountain is beautiful tonight as it illuminated by the last rays of sunlight.
By 7:00PM, both sun and any trace of wind are gone. The moon is nearly full and is so bright I can easily see my shadow. The skies are clear—perfect weather for nighttime navigation. Nearby in the shipping lanes are one inbound freighter and one outbound freighter and a tug. After these vessels pass, we are alone. We pass the entrance to Quartermaster Harbor and then see the Point Defiance–Vashon Ferry on its way to Vashon. Gig Harbor--looking out at Arabella's Landing as the morning fog clears.
Like Mount Rainier, George Vancouver named Vashon Island when he and his crew surveyed this area from 1791–1795. Mount Rainier was named after Peter Rainier who later became an Admiral in the British Navy. Vashon Island was named after Vancouver's friend Captain James Vachon. Interestingly, while Vancouver was in the Tacoma area, he was accused by the natives of cannibalism. He and his boat crew were eating some venison meat that the natives thought looked a little too much like human flesh. While Vancouver quickly set the natives straight, the thought of food gets my stomach growling for some dinner.
As we get closer to Gig Harbor, I can see streams of commuter's car lights going across the Tacoma Narrows Bridge. While I am feeling sorry for the commuters, I manage to identify the flashing Point Defiance light. At the same time, I am not able to see the charted light (supposedly visible for 3 miles) at the entrance to Gig Harbor. I end up navigating to the entrance of Gig by electronics and gut feel. While the entrance looks different than I remember, navigating it with the electronics and bright moon is easy. We push into the harbor against about a 1.5 knot ebb. The ebb is nice in that it gives me good control as we crawl forward. I see a minimum depth of 11 feet (on a 4.7 foot tide) in the entrance fairway. We pull into the public dock (at Jerisich Park), but find it has no power. Power is a necessity as we need to run a heater at night to keep our daughter warm. We move on to Arabella's Landing, which is a marina about an eighth of a mile further into the harbor. After a near docking disaster, I get us secured to a spot that I later see is marked reserved. In fact, it turns out that the entire marina is booked for a power-squadron rendezvous. It seems that President's Day weekend is a popular winter cruising date for power-squadron's as we also met up with a power-squadron during our 1998 Valentines day cruise to Pouslbo. Ignoring the "reserved" sign, we settle in and have lasagna and wine for dinner and then hit the sack. It gets to a chilly 27F outside, but in the cabin we never get much below 60F. Patience moored in one of the 'reserved' slips at Arabella's Landing.
The next morning we get up and stick our heads out the companionway—it looks like the beginning of another glamorous winter day. We slowly get up and go for a stroll around Gig Harbor. The southwest side of Gig Harbor (where we are moored) is packed with docks and moorage. Behind the dockage is what I consider the old town of Gig Harbor. This part of Gig is a cute small touristy strip of stores and shops about half a mile long. There are a few clothing stores and a couple eateries. I know there is at least one place to get a good ice cream cone. The strip is very nice and the views of the harbor are pretty. The northwest side of the harbor is strictly residential—Tacoma's elite are housed in the tasteful homes on the waterfront of Harbor.
We walk south down Harborview Street to the much anticipated Tides Tavern. We get a lesson in the reality of parenting when the staff there won't let us eat lunch because our daughter isn't 21 yet. It seems like a bit of a poor joke to us, but so much for some of our favorite bar breakfasts and brunches. We walk back to town and end up having lunch at a non-tavernesque café that serves coffee and sandwiches. The food is excellent. When we are done, we head back down to the Patience and start to get underway before a power squadron affiliate gets angry at us stealing their berth. Entrance to Gig Harbor, loking southeast at Mount Rainier. Not bad weather for the middle of February.
Today we will be heading up the west side of Vashon through Colvos Passage to Winslow. Lieutenant Charles Wilkes of the United States Navy named Colvos Passage. Wilkes and his small squadron were the first official U.S. ships to visit this area in 1841. It is quite amazing to me that the first official U.S. visit to the Puget Sound occurred a mere 160 years ago. Despite the fact that it sounds like Wilkes was quite an ass, he sure had a cool job—I image President Van Buren's orders read something like this:

   "Lieutenant Wilkes, you are hereby ordered to take a mini-flotilla, and cruise the Puget Sound. Be sure to eat plenty of venison and assign your friend's names to geographic features. Please keep your expense report within reason. You are dismissed."

Blakely Rock in central Puget Sound. Seattle and the Cascade Mountain Range in the background. Note the Kingdome is still standing. It was imploded almost a month later on March 26, 2000.
The trip up Colvos Passage is uneventful. The passage is unencumbered with dangers and Magic Mike (the auto-pilot) steers most of the trip. I read a book while Amy naps below with the baby. We make good time, which probably is correlated to the fact that both the ebb and flood set northwards in Colvos Passage. It feels almost like a summer day as we head east of Blake Island and then inside of Blakely Rock. Unlike yesterday, there are hundreds of boats out on the Puget Sound enjoying the nice winter day and calm conditions. We get to Winslow by around 4PM and stay at the Winslow Wharf Marina on the north side of Eagle Harbor. We take in a few movies and then go out for dinner. An islander we know recommended Thai Bainbridge, so we decide to give it a go for dinner. While the food doesn't compare to such Seattle classics as Tup Tim Thai or Siam, it is not bad. Not bad at all. Cafe Nola in downtown Winslow.
The next day we walk up to town to peruse the shops and have for ice cream cones. Our daughter seems to like the fresh air and small town feel. Winslow is more of a "real city" than Gig Harbor. There is a wonderful grocery store, a good coffee shop/bakery and a superb bookstore. More importantly, there us a take out pizza joint. About a half a mile up the main road that comes away from the Washington State Ferry Terminal is the Bainbridge Island Winery. We have never been, but my mom has gotten me some wine from the winery. It would be a fun walk.
When we get back to the Patience, I spend the afternoon washing the boat in the sun, while Amy takes a nap with the baby. After a few more movies, we retire early and sleep soundly, baby and all. The next day we get up late and get coffees from the bakery. After settling up with marina manager we head for home. As we chug across the shipping lanes, the skies start to get cloudy, and a few raindrops hit the deck—the change in weather makes going home a little easier. Valentines Day Cruise 2000 is over, but we are happy to have had a mini-vacation on the Patience in the middle of winter.


















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