The wind was up. It was time to go. I had spent the morning walking the trails on Sucia Island, waiting for the wind. As expected on a sunny day , it came in around noon, like it had every day this week. It was time to go.

Sugar Magnolia was hanging from a State Park buoy in Fossil Bay. That is a narrow bay on the south side of Sucia. Cliffs on both sides block it off from the rest of the island. At the time there were only two buoys in the bay. Mine was the only boat there. They bay is well sheltered, but there was easily enough wind to sail out.

We had raced Son of Pitch, a Labor Day Regatta in Everett. Me, myself, and I were bring the boat home to Olympia. It had been a week since I left Everett and I was out of ice. That was not an immediate problem however, as I was also out of fresh food. I thought it was time to see what was happening in Friday Harbor.

The dinghy dominated the foredeck. So before I laid out the jib, I opened a couple valves. Like something out of Harry Potter, the dinghy shrank to just the right size to fit. I closed the valves. Why do more pumping than needed? As I raised the main the boat went head to wind. I let the buoy go and went back to the cockpit.

Backing the main caused the boat to fall off and catch the wind. Sheet in to get moving, then out as we fell off. And we are on our way. When we were out of the bay I raised the jib. Force 3 wind with blue skies; it doesn't get a lot better.

It was a close reach to President Channel. I balanced the sails, loosely tying the helm. The boat held her course nicely, as she always does. I looked around; there was not an other boat in sight. Just the islands and blue water. A pretty day.

I went below to get lunch. Out of bread, but there are crackers. Put them in the cockpit and look around. Not an boat anywhere. Back below to find something to put on the crackers. Canned baby oysters and up for an other look round. Below again to get something to drink.

Before I got lunch on deck, the boat came to a gentle stop. No lurching. We just gently slowed to a stop. Like running aground on a very soft bottom. I looked up the open hatch The sails were still drawing, but we were stopped.

I stuck my head out and looked around. There was Orcas Island in the distance. Sucia was well behind. We were on course. No boats around. Nothing. The chart was open on the bunk. A quick look assured me there was no shoal near. It showed it was too deep to anchor.

What ever the cause, pulling and not moving was not good for the sails. To lower them I went to the mast. Then it all became clear. Looking down into the water it was easy to see what held us firmly in its grasp.

The boat was in the middle of a large patch of floating weeds, maybe a couple of boat lengths in diameter. The current must have gathered it all together. A miniature version of the Pacific gyro.

With the help of a boat hook, it was easy to free the boat. We continued on to Friday Harbor and re provisioning. The next day it was time to head south.

Steve Worcseter, Star 6932