Fall Cruising in South Puget Sound

Fall weather in the Northwest can be pretty iffy. Rain and wind are the norm for this time of year, which took its toll on our boating time back when we sailed. Unlike my more hardcore sailor friends, the novelty of freezing my ass off in the cockpit lost its appeal some time in my mid-forties. Each year, as fall turned its gaze to winter, I would grudgingly decide to put the boat away. Off would come the cushions and bedding to avoid mildew. Three or four dehumidifiers would decorate the cabins of the darkened boat to soak up the winter moisture. Dock lines would be inspected for chafe ahead of the winter storms to come. Sadness would creep over me as I walked up the dock, perhaps for the final time of the year, already pining for spring. 

Trawler life has changed all that. We no longer hibernate. Why would we? It can be freezing outside but still toasty warm inside the pilothouse and salon. In fact, fall and winter cruising on a trawler here in the Pacific Northwest is downright amazing.

One of the great things we’ve discovered is how little planning or effort it takes to head out on an impromptu cruise. We keep Indiscretion’s freezer and pantry full of food. There are always cold drinks in the refrigerator. Her closets hold plenty of clothing for any kind of weather. She has plenty of fuel and water to go just about anywhere we choose. 

So, when the weather forecast predicted a week of sunshine and calm seas in late October, we didn’t think twice. A quick trip to the local market for fresh produce, fruit and snacks and then straight to the boat.

We decide to spend the week visiting the southern reaches of Puget Sound instead of venturing back north to the Seattle area or the San Juans. With our home marina on Vashon Island, it’s roughly the same distance to Olympia as it is to Seattle. The only south-bound constraint involves timing the trip through the Tacoma Narrows with an appropriate tide. Currents run through the Narrows at upwards of six knots, so we must wait for a flood tide when traveling south and an ebb tide on our way back north. 

Departure

Lisa and I have perfected our departure logistics. We work through our departure checklist: the forced-air hydronic heating system and navigational instruments are switched on in the pilothouse. Lisa stows the groceries and readies the cabins for sea. I visit the engine room to check oil, fuel filters, belts, and coolant levels. Lisa finagles the half-fender covering our exhaust stack with a boat hook (our low-tech way of keeping rainwater out) and pulls off the instrument covers at the flybridge helm. I fire up the main engine and energize the stabilizers. Lisa hands me the shore power cords from the dock as we talk through our departure from the slip: the wind strength, the order she’ll untie dock lines, etc. The whole process from start to finish now is under 20 minutes. We make a good team.

When the engine is warm, I usually head for the flybridge, where visibility is terrific, and Lisa handles dock lines. Today is different. I untie us from the dock, and Lisa takes the helm. Before today, I’m the only one that has docked this big trawler, which is a safety concern. Should something happen to me, Lisa needs to be able to get safely back to port. I stand by, ready to offer pointers, but Lisa calmly backs the boat and spins us around like a pro. I put away dock lines and stow fenders, a job Lisa normally handles. I am huffing and puffing by the end. I hope I get my old job back. 

Heading South

We enjoy blue skies and flat blue water as we motor out of Quartermaster Bay. We catch occasional glimpses of Dall’s Porpoises as we put the Tahlequah ferry terminal astern on the southern end of Vashon Island. Seals pop their heads up, watching us, like stray black labs. We ride a nice flooding current as we passed under the Tacoma Narrows Bridge, past Fox Island, and on into proper South Sound. 

The hydronic heating system has thoroughly warmed the boat by now. The system employs a diesel-fired boiler to heat a network of water tubes that run the boat’s length beneath the floor. Forced air heating ducts in the salon, pilothouse, and the two sleeping cabins provide a pleasant warmth. We could heat the boat with our HVAC system, but that requires the generator and doesn’t offer the same quality heat. The automatic thermostat clicks off in the pilothouse as the temperature rises to 70 degrees. Hydronic heating is a godsend for off-season boating.

We confer over our Waggoner’s Guide and a nautical chart splayed on the pilothouse table and decide on Olympia as our first destination, which is at the far south end of Puget Sound.

We pass McNeil Island off to starboard as we proceed through Balch Passage. I give this island a wide berth. McNeil served exclusively as an isolated Washington state prison for more than a hundred years. In the early 1960s, Charles Manson did time here for car theft before becoming famous for his more notorious crimes. The prison closed in 2011 but now houses 214 of the most dangerous sex offenders in the state. These “residents” have served their allotted sentences in prison elsewhere but are now held indefinitely at McNeil under a controversial civil commitment statute. This is not a place you ever want to visit.

Rounding Harstine Island, we enter Budd Inlet. We have the water to ourselves. Throughout our five-hour journey, we see only three other pleasure craft — all trawlers. The empty water is so different from our cruise last month in the San Juan Islands. Like us when we sailed, the colder weather has chased almost everyone back to land. 

Percival Landing, Olympia

We visited Olympia earlier this year and chose Swantown Marina for our moorage. This time, we opt for Percival Landing on the western end of Budd Inlet. There are two side-tie docks for overnight moorage, but only E Dock has power and water hookups. Space is available on a first-come-first-serve basis, and other than yacht club gatherings, you can’t make an advance reservation. We arrive around 2 pm on a Tuesday, a little worried that the dock might be full, but find the dock completely empty. We spin around in the narrow fairway and tie up on our starboard side. It feels like we’ve parallel parked our trawler on the beautiful water-facing Main Street of town.

A five-hour trip is long enough for our two trawler dogs to get antsy for shore leave, so we power down the instruments, plug into shore power, and head out. Up a nearby ramp is a park for the dogs, and many restaurants and shops beckon nearby. Two blocks north is the wonderfully serene Capitol Lake with spaced out benches, runners, walkers, and lots of ducks and geese on the water to tease the dogs. We follow the path that winds around the lake for a scenic two-mile walk. 

I pay for two nights of moorage at the registration office at the Olympia Center. $68 for two nights with shore power is a good deal for a 43′ boat. The central location of Percival Landing is perfect for exploring the downtown area on foot. We broke out our Ninebot scooters to get around when we stayed at the more remote Swantown Marina, but we find we don’t need those here. We walk a couple blocks to the famous Spar Cafe – McMenamins for dinner, passing a dozen or more restaurants on our way. We enjoy great food and safe distances between patrons at the Spar. We also have a delicous lunch on the deck at the Olympia Oyster House, which is so close you could hit with a well-thrown rock from the cockpit of Indiscretion.

During our two days at Percival Landing, a few other boats tie up, but most leave after taking on water, a few hours of free shower power, and running errands in town. 

Our only concern during our stay is the noise and foot traffic at night. The environment changes quite a bit after dark, and we feel a little nervous walking the dogs through the park at night. 

Jarrell Cove, Harstine Island

We say farewell to Olympia after our two days and nights of exploring, but vow we will make this a regular stop on future South Sound tours. The weather gods treat us to another day of light winds and calm seas. We head north up Case Inlet, slowly making our way up the east side of Harstine Island.

We arrive at Jarrell Cove on the northern end of Harstine Island after three hours of uneventful motoring. We see just one other powerboat during our trip. This bay is a popular summer destination, but we find it utterly empty of visiting boats. We wonder to ourselves, where is everyone? We tie up to one of the 14 mooring buoys that take up the middle of the bay and then notice that the state park dock has shore power. We cast off the mooring and are soon tied up to the dock, plugged into power. We’re big fans of the Washington State Parks annual moorage permit, which allows you to use any state park buoy or dock at no additional cost. There is a $6 per day fee to use shore power, which we gladly pay. 

The dock leads up to a nice network of trails and campsites. The main park facility has bathrooms and an outdoor amphitheater. The grounds are as empty as the bay. 

Our night time walk with the dogs is quite a change from Olympia. A heron’s grumble from the shore creeps the dogs out, and something growls at us from the underbrush along the trail. Back on the boat, we flip on our FLIR night vision camera to spot the heron (or bear!), but find only empty shore. 

We spend two lovely days at the dock. We have the place to ourselves until our second night when two smaller boats tie up for the weekend. There’s still plenty of space along the 650′ dock for four or five more boats, and the buoys remain vacant during our entire stay — so different than our last visit in early May when every buoy was taken, and more boats were anchored in between. 

Dock Street Marina, Tacoma

We leave Jarrell Cove early to catch the ebb tide through the Tacoma Narrows. It’s pitch black at 6:45 am when I planned to leave, so we dawdle until first light at 7:30 am to depart. 

A beautiful sunrise greets us as we leave Jarrell Cove, and calm seas accompany us as we reverse our course back the way we came, through the Narrows and along the waterfront of Ruston and Tacoma. We decide to spend Halloween at Dock Street Marina near the end of the Thea Foss Waterway. We call ahead for a slip assignment and are told that there is plenty of space; pull into any vacant slip on G or H docks.

We end up taking the same slip we used on our last trip here, back when I was still learning how to dock this big boat. Fortunately, I’ve improved a lot as a skipper, and there is no drama as we tie up. We count just four other visiting boats in this spacious marina, with its convenient access to downtown Tacoma, the Glass Museum, and wonderful Foss Waterway Promenade. 

We spend Halloween night on the boat watching scary movies on the Salon TV. A full moon shimmers through clouds out our port salon window, adding to the movie’s suspense. 

The Marina offers a slip side pump-out system, which makes emptying the holding tank especially easy. The fee is $5, but the affable dock manager waives this if you handle the “dirty” end of the job. 

Homeward Bound

We leave Dock Street around noon on Sunday for the quick trip home to Quartermaster Marina. Once back in our slip, I spend a couple of hours cleaning up the boat and putting on her winter covers. Our week of sunshine is ending as the forecast calls for rain, rain, rain, which of course is typical for this time of year. 

Our first fall cruise of the year has been spectacular, and we’re excited to take many more of these mini-cruises during the offseason. And yet, the sailor remains strong in me. I can’t shake the notion that this all feels wrong somehow, like a Northerner spending Thanksgiving with family in Southern California, with its sunny weather and palm trees. It’s nice, but not tradition to celebrate the holidays without rain, clouds and cold. 

Though we’ve owned Indiscretion for more than two years, my memory of cold weather boating is embedded in my DNA. I recall that feeling of a deep, pervasive chill at the wheel in the cockpit while the rest of the family sheltered below. It was probably a cold spell in August, which, with our even-keeled Pacific Northwest climate, can be hard to distinguish from a typical day in February. The windblown rain found purchase inside my foul weather gear, and water squished in my boots as I tended the sails. Off to port, I watched a 50-foot trawler slowly pass us by to windward. The pilothouse windows were steamed up, but I could make out the captain taking a sip of hot coffee after a friendly wave. I waved back, usually a no-no to show any kinship between a sailing vessel and stinkpot, but I appreciated his kindness in allowing me right of way under sail. I am ashamed to admit I also muttered a curse of envy and spite at that happy captain, like Ahab and his bitterness about a certain white whale.

It took many years, but it seems I’ve now become that happy captain who waves with kindness and heartfelt concern from a steamed up pilothouse (yes, I wave to sailboats). Perhaps it’s my long history of discomfort under sail that makes me feel so grateful for it all. Curse me if you want, I whisper to myself after a sip of hot coffee, but trawler life is good.