I leaned over the gunwale of the “Bear”; a replica of an 18th century longboat, like the ones Captain Vancouver used in 1792 when he explored these waters. The boat is part of the fleet used by the Port Townsend Sea Scouts, a group of adventuresome young sailors. The water of Puget Sound lapped peacefully against the side of the boat as we sailed forward.
“But how far forward?” I wondered. I glanced at a nearby peninsula to check our progress. We were no farther along the peninsula than the last time I looked. “Strange.”
“We’re not making much headway,” yelled a sea scout. “I think we’re going backwards!”
We were stuck in a strong current, created by the tide flowing out of the inlet that we were heading for.
“Take in sail! Out oars!” called the skipper, Norm. “We’ll head to shore.” I grabbed my oar, my blistered hands screaming in protest. We inched forward, all the effort that we put into each stroke seemed to be stolen by the current. But gradually we got closer, until finally the hull scraped against the bottom. We jumped ashore and examined the situation. Finally we decided to skirt the shore where the current would be less and then cross the inlet to Port Townsend.
Thankfully the plan worked and an hour and a half later the longboat and her exhausted crew slid into port. We had sore arms and blistered hands, but a great story to tell.
“But how far forward?” I wondered. I glanced at a nearby peninsula to check our progress. We were no farther along the peninsula than the last time I looked. “Strange.”
“We’re not making much headway,” yelled a sea scout. “I think we’re going backwards!”
We were stuck in a strong current, created by the tide flowing out of the inlet that we were heading for.
“Take in sail! Out oars!” called the skipper, Norm. “We’ll head to shore.” I grabbed my oar, my blistered hands screaming in protest. We inched forward, all the effort that we put into each stroke seemed to be stolen by the current. But gradually we got closer, until finally the hull scraped against the bottom. We jumped ashore and examined the situation. Finally we decided to skirt the shore where the current would be less and then cross the inlet to Port Townsend.
Thankfully the plan worked and an hour and a half later the longboat and her exhausted crew slid into port. We had sore arms and blistered hands, but a great story to tell.
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