CATEGORY: SAILING

After I moved to Port Townsend, Bob and I still went on sailing trips together.  He kept his boat in Port Townsend, the ideal taking-off place for the first stop north: Friday Harbor.  One summer day, the day after he had arrived, we started out early to catch the morning tide on our way north for two or three weeks of sailing.  We stopped to have breakfast at Crazy Eric’s, a restaurant on the water front.

We were almost through eating when the restaurant door opened and in walked my aunt and uncle from Florida.  At 7: 30 in the morning!!?  Aunt Lou and Uncle Es!!?  From Florida!!!!?????   I didn’t even correspond with them other than through a family letter that got mailed in a circuit all around the country.  I hadn’t seen them for at least fifteen years.

The family letter was the key.  They explained that they had read my contribution saying I was remodeling my house in Port Townsend.  They were just out driving around the country–just driving around—(?)—it wasn’t even Sunday—– and decided to come and visit me and help me with my house.  I was amazed at their generosity.  Bob was polite but clearly disconcerted.  Time and tide wait for no man.  I explained that we were just on our way to go sailing for a few weeks.  They said they wouldn’t detain us, but could they at least see my house?  I asked Bob if I couldn’t take the time to show it to them.  He mumbled something which I took as acquiescence.  So we showed them the house.  I thought I should at least offer them a cup of tea.  It was late morning before we got under way.  

We sailed all the rest of the day just off the end of Point Hudson and never got around the point.  The tide was, of course, full bore against us.  There was just enough wind to keep us sailing in one spot.  Bob did not say anything all afternoon.  I didn’t say anything either.  What was there to say?  Finally about five o’clock, he said one word.  He said, “shit”–a word similar to that used by Captain Vancouver in my imagination, and very close to the same place.  These men! All alike, eh? (Canadian for “shit head”) By this time I was in a “shit” mood myself, because I could have spent a whole day with my seldom seen relatives—maybe even taken them up to Hurricane Ridge.  He turned around and sailed back into his slip. We got up early the next morning, had breakfast at the same restaurant and caught the morning tide north.