BRAVING FREEZING TEMPERATURES, TOR JOHNSON ENJOYS A RARE OPPORTUNITY TO EXPLORE THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST’S SAN JUAN ISLANDS IN TOTAL TRANQUILLITY
The weather looked truly terrible for a sail through the San Juan Islands. The week’s National Weather Service forecasts displayed that unwelcome ‘cloud and rain shower’ graphic, puffy gale symbols, and even a few icicle icons. But what did I expect in December at 48° north latitude, on Washington’s west coast?
Yet I was determined to go sailing. Optimism, that essential sailor’s friend, ruled the day. I counted some factors in my favour: tucked 70 miles inside the Strait of Juan de Fuca, the San Juans lie in the rain shadow of both the Olympic mountain range and Vancouver Island. This would temper both rain and gales. I’d also have plenty of shelter: the San Juans abound in perfectly protected anchorages, with good depths and sticky mud that positively grabs an anchor. And I’d have this popular cruising ground almost entirely to myself, since few boats sail here in the winter.
This would also be a chance to visit friends who live in the islands. And in case conditions got really bad, I could even stop at some popular harbours like Friday and Roche, where I could hide in a marina and sip hot cocoa in town. Docks would be wide open, without the summer boats.
Sure it would be cold. Temperatures would hover around freezing for much of the sail. I’d be single-handing Kāholo, our 2012 Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 509. I’d sailed this boat across the Atlantic and Caribbean from Europe a few years back, and cruised here in this area. She was ready to go. Kāholo has roller furling all around, and all sail control lines lead aft, so she is quite easy to single-hand.
I hadn’t had time to install heating, but thanks to Amazon, I did have a new portable diesel heater that I was just itching to try out.
DEPARTING DECEPTION PASS
Despite dire predictions for gales on my departure day, it dawned beautiful, if a bit late (we were nearing the shortest day of the year in December at a bit over eight hours of daylight). And cold. The first step was dicey: the steep ramp to the dock had a thin coating of treacherous ice.
I decided to pile on extra layers in advance, starting with some good insulating fleece, and ending with full foul weather gear, hat, gloves, and sea boots. Once I shoved off, going below to locate and then wriggle into another layer while solo navigating through tight channels might not be an option.
Motoring out of Shelter Bay into the Swinomish Channel, I was serenaded along the Skagit River delta by several hundred loudly honking Canadian Geese, flying in perfect Vformations, their s
