I have made mistakes in my sailing career but I hope to never repeat this one. I started out from Fiddlehead on the Wave Walker bound for Longbranch. That was the first mistake. I said I was going to Longbranch, but my real intention was always to land in Gig Harbor. I’m sure I won’t need to explain this or any other poor decisions/judgements.
I left at noon, arriving outside Longbranch at 1715, 45 minutes ahead of schedule. So, I decided that I would have plenty of time to make it to Gig Harbor before sundown. Since it was summer I figured I had five to six hours of daylight left. Wrong.
It became necessary to motor instead of sail. I really truly, especially now, truly appreciate sailing and not motoring the boat. I continued on between McNeil and Fox Islands. I’ve always gotten the creeps going around McNeil for some reason. Finally, I was in the main channel headed for the Narrows Bridge. The sun was not down but it was heading that way. It was beautiful for a while, even as the lights of Tacoma were starting to twinkle on the bank.
It certainly looked like the bridge was close. I knew that the Harbor was just around the corner after I was on the other side of it. But looks can be deceiving. That bridge looked close, but it was not. And I was in the middle of the channel in the swirls of the whirlpools traveling but not making much headway since a lot of the motion was side to side instead of forward.
I turned on the running lights only to find that they were not working. So, I tied a flashlight to the stern to have some semblance of light, albeit weak. I had an innate fear that this could possibly be my last trip so I sang what I believed would be my eulogy: two religious songs, two southern songs as I originally hale from New Orleans, and then two patriotic ones just in case that would help. And I vowed I would never do this again, if God would just help me through this trip.
Finally, I reached the bridge. Just on the other side of crossing it, I almost had a head on collision with a speed boat, followed by an encounter with its wake. Then I saw two tugs shining the banks on the east side followed by an even larger tug that was pulling a very large barge behind it. I miscalculated how soon the wakes would arrive, so I took the first wave at 45 degrees instead of 90. That was followed by at least seven more huge, six to eight foot rolls of water. I’m sure that caused the boat to be airborne more than once. After that was over, I recalculated my bearing with the compass to make sure that the beautiful lights on the port side were, in fact Gig Harbor, at last.
They were so I headed that way. I was admiring the lighthouse in front of me when I realized that I was about three feet from running aground. I quickly turned and avoided that disaster and made my way into the safety of the Harbor. I then saw a very big dock with huge cleats to tie to, so I moored and went ashore to call my two contacts.
I was a little curious about the building in front of me but did not pay much attention to anything about it except that the gates had locks so I placed things in the way of them closing so that I could get back in. I went to the Tides and found a phone. I called home but no one answered. I left a message that I was to the left of the Tides as you faced it from the road and then hung up.
Next I called my friend and told her where I was. She laughed but she is not a boater so she was probably not sure of what danger I had put myself in. One more call home, but no answer. What I did not know was that Bill was already in his car headed for Gig Harbor, Not understanding the message; he thought I had said to the west of the Tides, which is the opposite side from where the boat was.
He also knew that the water at the public dock at low tide was low enough to put you aground, if you were too close to shore. He had some concerns, of course, possibly as much for me as the boat but I’m not sure about the me part.
I went back to the dock. It was now past midnight so I ate something I called dinner and went to sleep for about five hours. When I woke up, there was someone in that building working. I know he was not expecting to see someone coming in on the dock. He told me I could not use his phone but to go to the Tides. Upon my return, I needed to move my boat. This was a private dock belonging to someone I believe was named Mr. Russell.
I started to do just that, except the object holding one gate open fell. Now, I was locked out, no longer able to return to the boat by those gates! I called home, explained where I was and Bill said he would be right there. Somehow, I found four guys who were going out. I hollered to them from the public dock. They said they would bring me to my boat. It took them a long time to understand me since I was crying by this time.
I guess the whole experience had finally hit me. I was very emotional and thankful that I was alive. I boarded their boat and they dropped me off at mine. I shoved off and went over to the public dock I got tied up right before Bill arrived. He really never expressed any feelings of anger; he said that there was nothing he could say that would make me feel as bad as I was already feeling, so he said nothing.
Then I went home and slept a while. We returned to the boat later that day. He brought gas. I had I teaspoon left. He fixed the running lights, it ended up being a burned out fuse. Then he took the boat on to Seattle. I said I would never do that again and never go that far again. But he said that next, I will probably take the Wave Walker to Seattle. Maybe, but I will do a lot of checking things out first: the boat and the tide book. And, that’s the truth.
It has taken me two years to even write this story much, less to admit it to anyone. I still get the creeps a little when I look down when we are going over the Narrows by car. I hope that my story has been a lesson rather than amusing. Bill has told me that the water is a hostile environment so we do things to make it as safe as possible so it is less hostile. That’s what I need to remember in the future.
Debbie Behre, Wave Walker