Fall Cruising on Hood Canal

The crew of Indiscretion achieved a matrimonial milestone this month — our 25th Wedding Anniversary. This is remarkable, not only because our marriage has lasted far longer than the statistical average, but also because our friends all expected this spur-of-the-moment marriage to dissolve within six months of our elopement in Greece. There had been a large quantity of Ouzo consumed the night before we wrote out marriage vows on a rocky outcropping on Skiathos, so even we wondered early on how this would all work out.

We decide to celebrate our anniversary at Alderbrook Resort and Spa on the southern end of Hood Canal. We could have driven to this beautiful resort from our home on Vashon Island in about an hour, but what would be the fun in that? Instead, we would travel there by boat, which requires voyaging about seven hours north to the entrance of Hood Canal, and then heading south for another seven hours. Such is life at seven knots.

On our way north, we stop for the night in Eagle Harbor on Bainbridge Island. With the cooler October weather, the crowds of boaters we encountered in the high season have vanished. We tie up to the city dock in Eagle Harbor, where we join just one other boat. By late afternoon, another six boats traveling together from Port Ludlow arrive, but there is still a couple of open spots on the dock. Ah, fall cruising!

From Eagle Harbor, we push on for Hood Canal. We consider stopping at Port Ludlow, a favorite waypoint of ours and conveniently located at the entrance to the canal, but the weather forecast for the following day predicted high winds, and we want to make more progress on such a fine, calm day.

In all our years of northwest boating, this is our first time cruising Hood Canal. Part of the reason is the limited clearance under the bridge itself. Roughly 50 feet of clearance exists on the bridge’s eastern span, too close for comfort for our former sailboat’s 49-foot mast. The bridge does open for large ships, but it’s a hassle. Besides the bridge, the glacial-carved canal itself is extremely deep — some 500 feet even close to shore — limiting the number of suitable anchorages along this pristine 50-mile stretch of waterway.

We pass under the Hood Canal bridge on a beautiful, calm fall day. My grandfather owned a home about a mile from the bridge, and I spent my summers there as a kid, beach-combing on that sandy beach, throwing rocks, sitting around driftwood campfires while my grandfather played the accordion, feeling like life went on forever. He was the captain of a small ferry boat that took two or three cars and a few passengers across the canal where the bridge is now, and I of course adored him. Most of the ideals of how life ought to be came from that man and those summers — moving our family to an island, spending all my free time messing around on boats, and the decision to buy this trawler — all can be traced back in some way to those years. It’s funny how we attempt to recreate the carefree bliss of childhood.

After a full day of cruising, we pull into Pleasant Harbor, a popular destination about halfway down the canal. We arrive on a rising tide to navigate the narrow, shallow entrance and soon find ourselves inside a well-protected, glassy bay. We tie up to the state park just past the harbor entrance. The dock has plenty of room and is free for us since we have an annual pass with the State, but we discover there aren’t any good walking trails for the dogs. We walk down the highway with cars speeding by closer than I like, but soon find ourselves on a lovely waterfront strand with a couple of large marinas that offer surprisingly ample guest moorage. We’ll take advantage of this guest moorage or the nice anchorage at the southern end of the harbor on our next visit if only to avoid walking the highway. And we’ll have to check out the inviting dockside pub and grill.

We get an early start the next morning as we depart Pleasant Harbor. A storm system is headed our way later in the day, bringing gale-force winds, and we want to be safely tied up to the dock in Alderbrook before it arrives.

We settle in for a three-hour cruise. The tide is ebbing, so we fight a half-knot current. There are few navigational hazards, no ferries or container ships to evade, and for whatever reason, hardly any logs or other flotsam to avoid. I know from childhood memory that this stretch of water can be treacherous during winter storms. I recall the picture glass window at my Grandfather’s waterfront home bowing and flexing during the gusts of one particularly fierce Christmas Eve gale. But today, even with 20 knots of wind on the nose, the sea remains flat, docile.

The morning passes almost hypnotically; the steady hum of the big Lugger engine plays bass to the oldies playlist I have on low in the pilothouse — Beyond the Sea, You Belong to Me, Earth Angel. I sip hot coffee and enjoy the warmth of hydronic forced air heat as a mostly untouched shoreside with all the colors of fall slowly passing by the pilothouse windows.

After three years and thousands of miles under our keel, I am tuned to the boat’s operation. My eyes flick to the instrument panel above my head every five minutes to check engine temperature and oil pressure. I glance at the radar screen to my right every minute or so for any new dots behind us that represent overtaking vessels (I see none the entire trip). Unconsciously, I feel for any change in resonance in the main engine and am alert for any new sounds. While off watch and napping, a change in engine RPMs brings me wide awake from the deepest sleep. Even after three years, my heart rate elevates when the coffee maker completes its brew cycle and emits three loud beeps.

We pull up to the sizeable end-tie dock at Alderbrook Resort after this quiet trip from Pleasant Harbor. The predicted wind hasn’t yet arrived, and docking is uneventful. I imagine this place fills up in the summer months, but on this October Saturday, just two other vessels share the dock with us. We loll around on the boat after taking the dogs on a hike through a few of the many walking trails that span out from the report. We devour take-out burgers from the resort.

We see every kind of fall weather the Pacific Northwest can drum up on this trip, but our anniversary on Sunday morning brings calm seas and brilliant sunshine. We drop the tender in the water to make the three-mile trip to the Hood Canal Marina for brunch at the Hook and Fork Café (delicious!). We check out the resort grounds with its fire pits, heated pool, sauna and bar. Lisa enjoys a massage at the spa time while I chat it up with resort guests down the docks who are curious about this unique trawler.

We enjoy a nice dinner at the lodge on Sunday night. The staff find out it’s our anniversary and seat us at a romantic table for two by the window. We can just make out Indiscretion in the gathering darkness. This is the way to celebrate an anniversary, I think. We skip the Ouzo but still count our blessings.