I’m ashamed to admit the weather caught me off guard yesterday. We had family visiting who hadn’t seen the boat yet, and our plan was to head out into Elliott Bay towards Blake Island. The idea was to either circle the island or turn back earlier, depending on time and Crescendo’s speed given the winds.
The winds started light, but we still managed 5-6 knots. Mental note: we still have a lot to learn about proper trimming techniques to squeeze out just a little more performance. Crescendo is a heavy full keel boat, built for sturdiness rather than speed. But I can’t use that as an excuse. I’m certain there’s some finesse involved in getting better performance out of her than I currently know.
As I enjoyed chatting with our younger passengers about different aspects of the boat, the wind started to die. Quickly, it dropped from 10-12 knots to 3-4 knots. Realizing we’d never make it to the island and back at these speeds, we furled the genoa and fired up the “iron wind” (diesel engine) to pick up the pace.
I noticed dark, ominous clouds on the horizon, but they seemed too distant to worry about. Lesson 1: Pay more attention to the horizon. Soon after, Nan called back from the bow and pointed out not just those distant clouds, but the darker ones forming directly above us that I’d completely missed. Lesson 2: Pay attention in all directions. My eyes had been scanning at water level, watching for cruise boats, ferries, tugs, and other pleasure boaters, but I wasn’t watching the weather.
As we turned towards home at Elliott Bay Marina, the winds suddenly kicked up. We went from 3 knots to 35+ knots in a heartbeat. The VHF radio lit up with the Coast Guard announcing warnings and requests for assistance from kayakers and disabled sailboats all over the region, including an overturned catamaran. Whitecaps appeared everywhere, with the largest swells we’d yet experienced on Crescendo.
I wasn’t worried about our safety – Crescendo is a very seaworthy vessel with rigging in fine shape. My concern was how to safely return to our slip without damaging her, the dock, or other expensive boats. Nan called the harbormaster, who confirmed 30-40 knot winds inside the marina, though the water there was just ripples.
Deciding the squall would pass, we focused on keeping our passengers comfortable as we rode it out in the Sound. The adults were all fine, but we did have a couple of nervous kiddos. We alternated between heading into the wind and swinging 180° downwind. After several cycles, the whitecaps started to subside, and winds dropped to the 20s. Time to bring her in.
The approach was fairly uneventful, though the wind pushed us closer to the next dock than planned. I think we just barely rubbed the corner of the opposite dock with our stern as we made our 90-degree turn to port. Friends from two other boats came out to help catch our lines – no need to ask. They saw the weather and us coming. It’s just what boaters do for each other.
After safely tying up without any dings or scrapes, I thanked Mike who lives aboard just a couple of boats away from us for his help. When I mentioned being caught off guard despite checking weather apps on my phone, he gave me a brief weather lesson. He emphasized the importance of listening to local weather on the VHF, telling me he’d heard this very squall predicted on the radio. Lesson 3: Always check the local VHF weather channel.
Thank you, Mike, for that valuable lesson. It’s a reminder that I have a lot to learn, especially when it comes to respecting the ever-changing moods of the sea and sky. After securing Crescendo in her slip and re-hooking her up to shore power, we started getting dinner ready. By the time I was putting the brats on the grill the squall had fully passed, and the weather looked just as beautiful as it had before we departed. It came and went that quickly.