Catamaran weekend and not hitting a million dollar boat

Under normal circumstances we would never consciously choose to rent a catamaran out of Seattle for a weekend sail in April. Cold, rainy, unpredictable being just a few of the top reasons. However, we needed time on a Cat before Tahiti — I was rusty and my first mate had never been on a catamaran. The only cat we could find for a weekend close by was with Windworks. After some back and forth with our resume’s they allowed us to rent the boat but required a check-out before we could leave. This means there was always a chance we wouldn’t pass the check-out and everyone we had invited to join us for this adventure would have to go home. I wasn’t overly worried but it was a risk.

Friday

“What types of catamarans have you skippered?” she asked with her eyes closed. The person checking us out was a very experienced woman but it was clear from the start that she was also very serious with very little room for boaters who don’t respect the craft. When she looked at me, I sensed suspicion and even a little scorn. When she explained things she felt should be obvious, she’d close her eyes and speak slowly as if to a child. “Skippered…um…none….but I was a first mate on many…” I stammered, but before I could finish her eyes closed, “It’s my understanding that you had skippered catamarans before”. Suddenly, three hours of driving from Portland and only a few minutes on the boat, the whole trip was sinking. I hadn’t lied when we reserved the boat, and my resume was clearly attached to her clip board. “I made it clear that I hadn’t in my resume,” seemed like a logical response but the demeanor of this seasoned vet said otherwise. Her next question didn’t help. “Ok, tell me the size and type of boats you were first mate on.” Again, in my resume, and again I stammered. I don’t geek out on boat models. Her suspicion was growing. I blabbered on about the places we went and how long we were out, and some of the situations we were in. My hope was that my stories and experience would overcome my inability to get technical about the boats. This seemed to ease the pressure, or she just realized it was more trouble to not allow us to rent the boat, but without a blink she moved into full check out mode.

As she walked around the boat pointing out bilge pumps, circuit breakers, heads (toilets) I made sure I was incredibly focused on her every word. Making eye contact as much as possible, not interrupting, and in general trying to provide her as much trust in our abilities as possible. Overall things went smoothly from there. She was thorough and clear. We were supposed to also take the boat out for a spin and practice the docking but the winds were too high and she said it would be “unfair”. I was thankful because to be honest I was nervous. Despite my confidence, it was my first time skippering a catamaran and it had been a several years since I maneuvered a catamaran in general. Instead, we’d do our checkout with Victor in the morning. The rain and wind continued and rather than worrying about the next morning we headed out for dinner.

At this point only half the boat crew had arrived.

Saturday

Morning arrived as did the rest of our crew and Victor, otherwise known as “Popcorn”. Young, calm and confident, Victor arrived to take us through our final checkout. Before we could sail into the Puget Sound we needed to get past Popcorn. “We’ll dock as many times as needed until you feel comfortable.” was probably the third thing he said after hello. My emotions jumped from nervous apprehension to genuine excitement. What felt like a test suddenly felt like an opportunity to learn, a much different feeling.

Before we started we reviewed the situation. Port side (left side) was tied to the dock. Behind us was a rock wall and in front of us was a 1.5 million dollar boat. Not a ton of room for error but the lack of wind or current made the situation completely manageable. Popcorn walked us through using the stern line to spring our bow off the dock. Once in place the bow floated off the dock like a Japanese wedding lantern floating down a lazy river. We could then gracefully drive forward out and away from the rocks and the million dollar boat.

We each took turns docking at the fuel dock which was quiet this time of day and provided us ample room to awkwardly maneuver this hulking cat into place. Victor’s calm voice would guide us each time; “Port forward. Good. Starboard back. Neutral. Port Back. Neutral. Good. Let it ride. Starboard forward. Nice”. His mantra still reverberates in my brain and calms me when ever I’m maneuvering a cat. Satisfied with our skills he signed us off “for life” and waved us on our merry way.

Destination Rain

Because the crew was a mix of friends we had convinced would enjoy a soggy weekend out on the sound, friends looking to learn cat maneuvers and strangers who were friends of other friends also looking to get some practice time on a cat. An odd crowd for sure but it all seemed to work. Everyone got a bit of what they wanted be it card games, relaxation, cat docking experience or sailing. The first day was a bit of motoring to Port Madison where we anchored the cat for a short lunch. We then headed back out to the Puget Sound, raised the sails and tacked back and forth for about an hour in the same spot. I used this moment to nap on the galley couch lulled by the gentle rocking of the waves, and the joy of knowing others were excited to stand exposed to the elements futzing around with sail trim and curvature.

We ended in Eagle Harbor tied to a mooring ball surrounded by fog and a light rain. Some headed in for beer while dinner was prepared. Despite being exhausted from the day, the check-out and the long drive the day before, our cabin had a slight problem that needed to be dealt with. We had woken up with a few drops falling from the hatch above us. Nothing super alarming in the moment. It could have been condensation from our breath at night like a tent when camping. However, by the time we arrived in Eagle Harbor the drips had kept coming and in an effort to keep our bed dry, all the bedding and mattresses had been shoved to one side. In the exposed area under the drip was a pile of paper towels and my t-shirt from the night before – all soaked with a new drop every two seconds splashing unwelcoming into the area. We ended up having to take apart the window screen and rigging up a tarp on the outside while also using a shower curtain and a sponge to build a catch inside. This would prove successful and allow us to sleep the night.

The night extended late into the evening with Cards Against Humanity. Nine people crammed around a table, a mixture of friends and strangers, the familiarity and laughter flowed with no fog of awkwardness. Outside it was cold and rainy.

Sunday

Being the first to wake on a boat can provide miracle views. But when someone is sleeping in the galley because nine people are staying on a boat with only three cabins, you tend to lay awake staring at a rigged leak catcher for longer than you’d like. Time would creep by as I’d listen for tell tale sounds of life on board. Once I heard footsteps on deck and I was up and out. Not all were awake, but the poor soul who had to sleep outside was clearly awake and restless. It seemed like a good time to take the dingy into shore, grab some coffee and squeeze out a non-boat poop. We were quick, but by the time we got back the entire crew had risen and had decided it was time to drive the entire boat to the dock for a tour of the town and potentially additional non-boat poops.

As we sat parked at the dock in Eagle Bay, the sun peaked out and other boaters and their dogs arrived along with a shirtless solo sailer showing off by maneuvering around the bay working the sails as a skilled painter works a brush. We all watched jealous but annoyed by the missing shirt, this was still April in the North West and it reeked of too much bravado. Once everyone was back from their duties we set about taking turns practicing to dock…except for me. I knew my time was coming. The arrival back in Shilshoe bay was inevitable, and the million dollar boat sat waiting for me.

We gobbled up some pancakes, practiced taking turns docking and headed back to Shilshoe Bay. The wind had decided to show up despite telling everyone it didn’t plan on arriving. The sailers enthusiastically raised the sails and went about tweaking, adjusting and debating points of sail, trim, etc. I too enjoy this but the sound of the wind against the sails was a constant reminder that sailing back into the marina would now be more complicated.

The Marina – Final Chapter

As we entered the marina going the appropriate 4 knots I could feel the wind. I had hoped it would be less once in the marina and it was, but it was enough to create an extra variable when docking. We essentially had three remaining maneuvers; gas, pump out, and the final dock behind the expensive boat. For the gas we docked port (left) side with the wind against that side. This means, as I approach the dock the wind was working against me pushing me away. I would need to compensate more. The bow (front) of the boat kept getting pushed more because it was lighter. We docked with no issues and filled the tanks. Next was the most vile of all jobs.

Pumping out the boat of all waste takes place using a machine that is simple, durable, but typically not the cleanest. The process is very manual and there are many moments when the slightest wrong move or miscommunication could send excrement in all directions. The dock was situated differently such that we would get pushed into the dock. All I had to do was line the boat up and let the wind gently push us towards it. Getting away was more difficult. The dock was too small to do a good spring line and as soon as my nose was out the wind would push it back. I had to be a bit more aggressive and it ended up rolling the fenders up and out from between the boat and the dock. Luckily the dock was covered in rubber.

The final dock would be behind the aforementioned expensive boat. In order to dock I would need to back down the marina towards the wall and between the fancy boat on one side and other docked boats on the other. I figured with the wind I’d stay closer to the docked boats on my starboard and assume the wind would push me towards the fancy boat. This would buy me time to get past and then the wind would benefit me by pushing the cat into the empty spot. Oddly enough, there was little to no wind in this pocket, so I actually found myself too close to the docked boats on starboard. The joy of a cat is the instant maneuverability. I drove forward and started over again with less wind compensation. The docking was picture perfect but once docked and secured I couldn’t help but yell out as if I’d just scored a goal.

All that was left was the mad exodus and cleaning of the boat.