Okay… it’s taken me a while to finish my tale about our charter in the San Juan Islands in late September. I got temporarily distracted by the “election” and slightly addicted to writing a diary on Daily Kos.

After leaving Rosario Beach, Rich made me practice man-over board skills for several hours using a buoy that he’d rigged together with weights on the bottom so it stood upright in the water. After my attitude changed from “I think I can sail” to “I hate sailing,” we decided to mosey to our next stop… Spencer Spit, a finger of land with mooring balls on either side.

By the time we reached the spit, the wind had kicked up and even though I was able to grab a mooring ball twice, the wind was too strong for me to hold onto the grappling pole until Rich could scramble from the cockpit onto the deck and tie a line around the metal loop at the top of the ball.

Frustrated with my obvious whimpiness, Rich decided to give it a try while I steered the boat. He missed the ball and while trying to reach out and grab it, he dropped the grappling pole in the water. Ha! Fortunately, the pool floated and I was able to grab it off the back of the boat when it floated by!

We then decided to motor to the other side of the spit where the wind was hopefully calmer. Once again, I grabbed a ball, but the metal loop was stuck so we zipped over to another ball. Success!

Also moored was another sailboat. I’m sure the couple aboard were laughing so hard at our fumbling that their sides hurt. And no doubt they had plenty to “write home about” after seeing me on the beach half an hour later with my pants wet from falling out of the dingy and my life vest buckled incorrectly. In contract, they were nattily dressed with deep tans, swanky clothing and dry boat shoes… even though they’d rowed ashore moments earlier with their Wheaton Terrier. It’s surprising how many people sail with their pets and are dedicated to going ashore several times a day to let their dogs use the terra firma.

The next evening, we had an easier time grabbing and tying up to a mooring ball. We were also more successful at rowing ashore to the tip of Orcas Island. We wandered around and heard some rustling down by the beach and were able to catch a glimpse of a young deer with blotchy black, tan and white fur, trying to scamper up the steep sea cliff

Several other deer, with more solid-shaded fur, were already on top of the cliff. The young deer splashed through the water to the next beach, then ran up a trail to join the rest of the pack. It was a very magical moment.

The next morning, we gingerly sailed along the coast, avoiding dozens of crab pots and small fishing boats. Unlike the crab pots used in the Bering Sea on the show, Deadliest Catch, the pots used in the Puget Sound are small, about the size and shape of a car tire.

A line (rope) extends from the pot, usually on the sound floor, to a colored buoy that floats on top of the water. Because aanyone can apply for a license to crab, there are many make-shift crab pots with a chunk of driftwood instead of an easy-to-spot colored buoy. When sailing close to shore or in an anchorage, you need to always be on the look-out for crab pots. 

As we neared Bellingham Bay, a man who was on a sailboat behind us called to us. His engine broke and he needed a tow to part of the bay that would allow him to catch the wind and sail back to Bellingham. We tied a line between the boats and towed him for thirty minutes or so until the wind picked up. We then motored back to the harbor where San Juan Sailing is located.

We spent the rest of the day wandering around fisherman’s wharf and studying for my final written bareboat certification exam. I knew that I would be required to show my docking skills at the fisherman’s wharf so we scoped out the area. We also talked to several of the fishermen who had just returned or were going out for Dungeness crab, salmon, flounder, cod, or squid (in California). Their boats are fascinating (and savage) with large lights to fish at night, pulleys, outstretched poles with rows of hooks, and large purse seine nets.

The next morning, the weather took a turn for the worse. It was bitterly cold, windy and rainy. Nevertheless, my instructor was waiting at the dock at 9:30 to test my skills. I motored out of the harbor and quickly turned into the fisherman’s wharf where I successfully docked and undocked. We then sailed into the bay to do man-overboard and other maneuvers. The wind – 20 to 26 knots — was so bad that the boat dramatically heeled over when I tacked and jibbed, and according to Rich, the deck would nearly touch the water.

My instructor, however, having sailed since she was 16 years old, wasn’t perturbed and gave me courage to continue sailing. It took all of my strength to hold onto the wheel and to yank out the Life Sling when it came time to demonstrate this skill. Rich, meanwhile, skillfully handled the sails, which were reefed (made smaller), and was an amazing crew-of-one. My instructor, who’d had knee surgery a few weeks before, hung on, gave commands, and assured Rich and I that the boat wasn’t going to tipped over.

After an hour of sailing, we pulled in the sails, fired up the engine, and motored back to the safety of the harbor. I then took my written test, got 85% (go enough to pass), gave my instructor a gift basket we’d put together earlier, and fantasized about curling up in a warm bed.

After a quick lunch, Rich and I cast-off from the dock and motored to Chuckanut Bay (south of Bellingham). Chuckanut is a beautiful bay with tree-lined shores, pretty upscale houses, and a train track that weaves through the landscape. It looks like something a train enthusiast built because throughout the day and evening, you can see and hear the trains as they chug through the trees, around the houses, and then disappears. When we were there, the trees had already turned orange, red, and yellow, making the scenery more dramatic.

Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t in our favor. After a rough windy and rainy trip to the bay, we attempted to anchor. We had no problem initially dropping the anchor, but Rich felt we’d drift into the shore with the horrific winds so we decide to find another spot. The problem was that I couldn’t get the anchor up so Rich and I traded spots. I thought the boat was in gear, which would have helped Rich pull up the anchor. The boat wasn’t in gear so Rich pulled, and pulled, and pulled.

Exhausted, he gave up and we met in the middle of the boat to discuss our options. It was then that I realized that there was a traditional winch on top of the windless to help pull up the anchor; Rich discovered that I didn’t have the boat in gear. Using the winch and putting the boat into gear, we were able to get the anchor up and relocate further from the shore.

Because of the winds, however, Rich couldn’t relax and set his GPS to “monitor” the movement of our boat. If the boat drifted, an alarm would go off. Nevertheless, Rich stayed up most of the night “watching” the boat. I got up periodically, having been completely exhausted from taking my tests.

Around midnight, we put on our warm fleece clothing and sat on deck for an hour or so. By now, the sky had cleared, but the wind was still fierce. It was wonderful seeing the moon-lit sky, listening to the trains in the distance, and talking about our week of “almost perfect” sailing.

The next morning, we quickly pulled up the anchor… using the winch and windlass… and headed back to Bellingham Bay. We had the boat unloaded and cleaned up before noon then zipped to Mount Vernon to shower and conk out!

In late September, Rich and I chartered a 34-foot Hunter sailboat named Wave Dancer, from San Juan Sailing in Bellingham, Washington (a hiccup from the Canadian border).

The first day of our sail, we left the Bellingham Marina in the early afternoon after getting acquainted with Wave Dancer and stashing several sports bags and bins of fresh, frozen and packaged food; bottles of water, clothing, rough weather gear; maps; books; sailing instruments; pillows; and bedding (feather quilt, flannel sheets and fluffy pillows). The boat sat a little lower in water after we loaded everything.

Our first stop was Pelican Beach on Cypress Island. We picked up a mooring ball, downwind from the beach where many kayakers had pitched tents and started smoky fires for cooking and keeping warm. Ah, the luxuries of a boat… propane stove, refrigeration, bathroom (complete with a shower), large bed in the aft cabin, comfortable seating, and if necessary, a heater… all the creature comforts one would expect at home with the benefit of being on the water in the scenic Puget Sound.

The next morning, we sailed to the Rosario Resort & Spa to meet Rich’s friend, Mike and his wife Teresa. They’d spent a long weekend on Orcas Island, kayaking and sightseeing then drove to Rosario to see us. The marina was closing up for the winter and most of the slips were empty so the harbormaster, Gary, let us enter our slip early so we could pick up Mike and Teresa… and also get assistance with our docking. 

It was the first time we’d docked the boat and quite windy so there was the danger of ramming into the dock. As Rich expertly pulled into the slip, Gary was on the dock so I was able to throw him a line rather than wait until the boat was close to the dock, “step” down, and stop the boat from moving any further before tying it to the dock. I was very relieved when the boat was secured to the dock.

Our docking and casting off (leaving the dock) was more elegantly executed than our sailing with Mike and Teresa aboard. It was the first time unfurled the mainsail (big sail). The afternoon before and earlier that day, we had sailed using only the jib (small sail) or motored. Both the jib and mainsail on Wave Dancer are roller-furling, meaning the sails ‘wind’ around a roller and don’t need to be hauled up or lowered. While traditional sails enable you to sail better because of their shape, roller-furling sails are super easy to “pull-out” and “roll-up” once you get used to their idiosyncrasies. In addition, you can manage all of the lines from the safety of the cockpit.

Along with having to figure out what lines to release, pull, and hold, we had to deal with the wind, which had kicked up making it difficult to trim the sails when tacking, jibing or reefing (make the sails smaller). Nevertheless, it was exhilarating sailing with strong winds, blue skies, and open waters with no boats in sight… except for seaplanes touching down at Rosario then zipping off to other destinations.

After we dropped Mike and Teresa off, we decided to spend the rest of the beautiful day on land, wandering around the resort, enjoying the amenities that were included with our moorage fee, chatting with Gary, and hoping that Gary’s cat would grace us with his presence.

Gary’s cat, whose name we never found out, is the unofficial ambassador of the marina. He lives on Gary’s 42-foot Catalina (excellent boat for a cat) and maintains order by jumping onto and inspecting people’s boats. He’s also been known to taunt dogs that arrive on boats. When chased, he’ll dive into the water and swim to shore. Gary explains that the cat is also an excellent fisherman and has no qualms about catching and eating fish… often in front of bug-eyed kids.

Gary, who lives year-round on his boat, was in the midst of pulling in docks and preparing the marina for the winter. Because the resort was days away from being sold, many aspects of it were also being closed.

The resort had originally been listed for $18 million, which is a steal considering a high-rise condo in downtown Seattle can cost several million dollars. With no takers, it was going to be auctioned on September 30th. The winning bid would receive nearly 74-acres of what’s considered the “Gem of the San Juan Islands,” including 116 lavishly furnished guest rooms and suites, three swimming pools, several restaurants and retail shops, a spa, marina with 30 slips, and the 25,000-square foot Moran Mansion, which is listed on the National Register of Historical Places and the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s Historical Hotels of America.

While wandering on the grounds, I couldn’t help thinking that the end of an era was coming. People speculated that whoever purchased the resort might turn the mansion into a private residence and build private residences instead of offering lodging. The marina and the other amenities could conceivably only be available to property-owners.

Reinforcing the dreariness of what could happen were the closing sales at the little grocery store/pub/restaurant by the marina and gift shop in the mansion. The former was selling almost everything at 50% off. We left with many items we normally wouldn’t purchase like canned artichoke hearts (unexpected addition to a pasta dish I made that night and salads later in the week), local wine, and bags of barfy-bad T.G.I.Friday potato skin-flavored chips. We also purchased necessities like Ben & Jerry ice cream bars and cheddar cheese.

Down by the marina was one of two outdoor pools. That afternoon, we enjoyed the outdoor pool at the mansion where we met a musician and seller of rare guitars and his wife from the Bronx. They were visiting with friends in Seattle and decided to do some sightseeing on their own. We spent a good hour chatting about politics, the Pacific Northwest, and music.

As the breeze picked up, we retreated to the indoor hot tub then the toasty-warm therapeutic pool, which was part of the original mansion, built in the early 1900’s. Most of the bottom floor of the mansion, where the therapeutic pool, spa, and gift shop were located was mosaics from tiny tiles imported from Italy. The owner of the gift shop said that the floors took years to craft.

To remember our visit and also commemorate our six-year anniversary, we purchased a small, engraved ivory box with two teeny compartments. Rich and I are both writing our wishes for our 12-year anniversary. We’ll place these wishes, each in a separate compartment, in the box then resist opening the box until September 28, 2014.

The ground-level of the mansion hosts several restaurants, meeting rooms, offices, and registration for the resort. Moran was enthralled with the Arts and Craft movement, which emphasized workmanship, quality and beauty over economy and profit. As a result, no expense was spared in building the mansion, including extraordinary mahogany woodwork throughout, Arts and Craft furniture, stain-glass windows, and ornate light fixtures.

The third story is the Moran Museum, which is a tribute to Seattle shipbuilder (Moran Brothers Company in Seattle) and former Seattle mayor, Robert Moran, who built the mansion. The music room is also on this floor, featuring a two-story 1,972 pipe Aeolian organ and 1900 Steinway piano. Throughout the year, you can attend free organ and piano concerts by renowned musician and Rosario historian Christopher Peacock. Unfortunately, he didn’t perform on the day that we were there.

The fourth story of the mansion was closed to the public, but no doubt featured the same type of woodwork and detail as on the other floors.

On the grounds of the resort, tame deer roamed. The buck in this picture was less than two feet from me… so there was no need to zoom-in to take the picture. A short walk away, a family was feeding a doe an apple. She was like a giant dog and had no objection to being pet and hugged. 

It was magically walking in such beautiful surroundings, petting deer, hanging out on Wave Dancer, wandering through the mansion and other historical buildings, enjoying the spa… and taking a late-night stroll. I was disappointed when the morning came and we had to leave. Although, before we “officially” left, Rich made me practice docking and backing up the boat in preparation for getting my bareboat certification.

Update: Rosario Resort and Spa was auctioned for a paltry $4.5 million to “someone” who lives in Anacortes who loves the Puget Sound. In a month or so, the winner of the bid will be formally announced along with plans for renovating the facilities.

Stay tuned for more details of our trip and how I finally succeeded in passing my bareboat certification practicals and test.