April 7^, 2006.

            A Storm, a Storm, Ohhh batten down the hatches ya young man, batten down the hatches!  I suppose we could not hold out forever.  While the day started out elegant enough, by mid afternoon we were in what I would consider a little bit of a tough.  The winds were against us now, having not shifted yet from the South.  If they didn’t change within the next 48 hours, we were going to have a rather difficult time making our way back to Olympia.  With 15-20 knots on the nose, we close hauled and pushed the distance to Eagle Harbor.  We had to go through Sinclain Inlet East, South of White Point and North of Glover Point.  We then “played” in Elliott Bat to the East and Port Blakely to the West until we could reach Eagle Bay.  As far as the eye could see were white caps, and not a single other vessel on the water to great us.  What should have been an easy days sail turned into a hard fight.  We sailed it all, however, having not wanting to use the engine until we reached the breach of the channel.  Seattle’s skyline provided a back drop as we pushed our way, tacking back and forth all of the way across Elliott Bay, until we were able to reach the slight shelter at Eagle Bay.  I was glad to do so, as this was the first real wind Barb had ever been in, and the children did not seem to take kindly to it.  We were close hailed the entire way, and as we passed the Glover Point we could only reach the bay by tacking back and forth to reach the correct angle.  In addition to the strong winds and waves, we also had to contend with the ferries, which frequented these waters moving back and froth from Seattle to the various little islands in the area.  More then once we had to give way, tack, or heave too in order to allow one to pass ahead or behind.  More then one wave made it over the bow and in our laps.  It was refreshing for myself, who had not been in a strong breeze for quite a long time.  Nesaru held strong, but I could see the toll on the Staysail, which was now beginning to fray, particularly around the head and foot of the sail.  Around 4 PM we made the channel.  The bay was small, but seemed to do well in protecting the boats within it.  We were approaching during low tide, and I found myself more then astonished as Barb yelled to me on the deck (I was coiling rope and sail) that she could hear an alarm sounding from below deck.  A quick scan of the horizon showed that we were still in the channel, albeit a bit to the West.  I could not imagine our depth being to low as Ferries passed through here day and night.  I could still see Seattle on the back drop as I yelled back to have the engine temperature checked.  Barb yelled forward that the temperature was a solid 180 degrees, but the depth gage read 5 feet!  I thought ridicules as I looked over the side.  How could we possible be at 5 feet?  We have an old depth meter, and so it could possible have meant 105 feet, as once it reaches 100 is simply starts over again.  I quickly changed my mind as Barb and I both simultaneously notices star fish below us as the murky waters finally revealed Davy Jones hidden secret.  We were on a reef!  A reef less then 50 meters from the channel…  Lesson learned.  We jibed as quickly as we could and headed for deep water.  Luckily, and by the skin of our teeth, we missed bottom.  It would not have been good for us if we had hit, as the tide was going out at the time, and we would have been stuck there for much longer then I would have liked, in a channel very heavily used by ferries, with the sun going down.. 

            As we moved into the bay through the channel, we were greeted with a sight I can only describe as reminiscent of a Disney Black beard movie.  It was truly surreal.  There were dozens of older schooners and Catches moored in the bay.  All of which, however, showed there age, and several were tied to rafts and “raft boats” were people had built homes right on the water next to their boats.  It was truly nostalgic of another era.  Before we even headed for the marina we circled around several of the vessels at anchor.  Some had holes in their sides which were clearly visible.  Although old and perhaps on their last leg, it seemed to me as if we had entered a play land of old retired boaters.  As we approached the docks, Barb noticed the location of the night harbor masters boat.  I was in shock – there truly is no other word to describe it.  The vessel was a large tug boat, but I could only discern that from shape alone, as she was covered from bow to transom with both firewood and gasoline cans!  The deck was completely covered with old crab cages, lines, trash, fire wood, and gasoline cans…  After seeing the bay, and now this, I completely expected to see Poppy step straight out with pipe in mouth and all!  We loved it.  Truly.  I decided within seconds that I would want to visit this bay again.  I simply do not have the necessary writing skills required to portray to you the “1800’sh” feel we gained from looking around.  I’m surprised that some of these boats didn’t have cannon’s – and would not have been shocked if they had.