We cleaned up our little boat and washed out all the coffee & pots. Instead of using a camp coffee pot I insisted on the European style french press. The french press is one creation that always is a joy to watch. You fill it with any blend of ground coffee and then pour hot steaming water and watch as the hot water surrounds and manipulates the coffee. It’s a poor man’s lava lamp.. only with that pungent coffee aroma that always smells good on a morning like this one. Pouring the black elixir into my Disney “tigger the tiger” coffee cup and dressing up with my sun faded green lifeguard hoodie… I stood on the helm like a true Nor’ Westerner.. It’s been commented that NW people have a style about them.. A way of speech, a look, a feel. Perhaps it’s because for every blend of Starbucks coffee we have a matching name for rainfall.. “Mist” “Drizzle” “light down-pour” “trickle” and our clothing is just as exotic. Never do I wonder why I have two different fleeces in my car along with a flannel shirt.. You must always be prepared!

 The hour was upon us to leave the comforts of the docks. St. Helen’s giant old glory flapped in the light winds blowing as if it was directing us to our future. The sight of a giant flag always inspires the deepest critic I think… It’s just there full of history and symbolism… Awe inspiring you are… Ole’ old glory!

I brought Tink up from her burrow down below to make a strategy for turning around and leaving. One suggestion was to leave a rope tied up and to motor around it.. Another was for me to just pull the pulpit around… But seeing our woes, a passerby yhaghty started coaching us giving us that $100 dollar advice.. You know.. that advice you give people that sounds real good, but as soon as you start doing it the situation gets ugly… fast. That advice… And the advisor classically always says, “Well it’s because you’re not doing it right…!”

He untied both our lines and instructed me & Tink to stay on board. “Now what you’re going to do is turn the motor on, put it in forward and swing that tiller all the way to the right and you’ll just spin right around…” Perhaps I didn’t hear right because my eye was staring at that big metal bridge up ahead. My hand felt the current pushing against the tiller and we were inches away from tragedy. The advice to just pull ‘er over didn’t work.. in fact it failed miserably.. we were headed right at that steel walking bridge and there was nothing to stop us.

Quickly the mass of hunter people came rushing to our aid.. Going from rich sailors to a help squad.. I was nothing less then shocked at the response. People came from everywhere grabbing our lines and moving us around.. “pull it up a bit.. reduce the power… turn it in more…” they all directed. It was a circus act that would amuse anyone, but we learned something about something.. I think.. What ever the results we did aim the bow towards our destination and powered our relatively unscathed…

More to come.. “the Nor’ West’s own Amazon”

~J out

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