Heron’s adventures got off to a now-almost-routine start this summer as James drove Kim and Jeff down to the dock early Saturday morning, untied their lines, and waved goodbye. (Phew, would they ever leave?) After much last-minute wrangling, everyone is happy: James gets the house to himself for a few days, Mom and Dad get to move the boat north, and Sam (who finally landed a job in San Francisco last week, hooray!), gets to join the trip after all.
Heron motored out of Elliott Bay, the Seattle skyline receding beneath a blanket of low clouds. The water was glassy, the wind a whisper at just 3.5 knots. The morning was completely uneventful, routine even. Then, as we proceeded through the shipping lanes on autopilot, an enormous Evergreen container ship passed us to port. It wasn’t any bigger than any other behemoth container ship, but for some reason it threw up a wake that was 8-10 feet high…
“Holy shit, look at those waves!” Jeff yelled, coming up from below. Too late. We watched in a mix of awe and horror, as we buried the boat’s nose in the giant wake and green water crashed over the bow. As two to three feet of water poured over the foredeck, slammed into the windscreen, then sloshed back funneling down the deck drains, we realized we’d left the hatches open a crack. Uh-oh…
In the cabin we found salt water everywhere: sloshing back and forth on the office’s wooden desk, puddling atop the front stateroom comforter, soaking the leather banquette and wood floor under the dinette… We spent the next 15 minutes on our hands and knees cursing and using every fresh-laundered towel we had to clean up the mess.
“That was the most water we’ve ever had on deck, I should have immediately throttled down… what a dumb-shit,” Jeff said in retrospect. Kim was just glad Chet was the one who’d left the hatches openJ As the old saying goes, a little salt water never hurt anything.
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