A Northwest Outing
Merrily rowing your boat when the gentle stream gets choppy.
“You don’t have the game you played last year or last week. You only have today’s game. It may be far from your best, but that’s all you’ve got. Harden your heart and make the best of it.”- Walter Hagen
Summers in the Pacific Northwest can be a little ‘iffy’. But this one was great; a real summer with warmth, sunshine, bare-feet and beach margaritas!
The girls, then 7 and 3, were spending a lot of time at our little community Lytle Beach. The tide would decide which adventure would be had. If it was out and the water low, there was the exploring of rocks, shells, crabs, seaweed, kelp and geoduck holes. And then the ferry would come by and send everybody chasing the waves or just chasing.
When the tide was up and the weather fair, we would go for a row in the Whitehall. She was our ‘Nancy Blackett’, a rather heavy fiberglass version of the Bailey Whitehall on display at the Mystic Seaport Museum.
I had made a ‘temporary’ trailer using 2 x 4’s and wheelbarrow tires for a relatively easy launch- that is if the tide was high. We were only half a block from the beach and I’d be damned if I was going to drive to a boat launch and voluntarily fork over money just to park a rusty trailer. Once underway, the girls would sit in the back with their sun hats and snacks and keep a weather eye for pirate ships and killer whales. And I blissfully afloat as the Merry Dream Rower.
‘Terror of the Seas’
So we planned a weekend trip; to row across the channel to Blake Island and take advantage of the non-motorized boat campground on the open, scenic beach. It was the best and least used camp spot on this little uninhabited island.
I had learned from an Bainbridge old timer that if you could see Mt. Rainer after 4 o’clock in the afternoon, tomorrow would be a good day. If you are a regular ferry commuter, it’s an easy urban legend to verify.
I did not ride the ferry that Friday afternoon, but the weather had been great and the forecast was good, or so I figured…
With Saturday’s first high tide at around 7 in the morning, we got an early start. There was the usual morning marine layer, which would burn off soon enough. But I did notice a bit of breeze as we were making way. And just some gentle ripples, mostly from the passing boats….
We rowed along our home island, toward Beans Point where we would then turn and cross the channel for the short row to our sea-camping adventure. There was a bit more wind, but the waves were fairly small and well spaced.
It wasn’t until we had committed to the crossing that I saw them; the fast ferries, one coming from Seattle and the other from Bremerton, and both would be passing one another about 500 yards directly ahead of us.
Hydrodynamics
As the big car ferries make their way to and from Bremerton, Washington in the Puget Sound, they pass through Rich Passage, a narrow channel between Bainbridge Island and the shoreline of Kitsap County. The ferry’s wake makes small waves that ripple along the beach. Since the waters are fairly protected, the ferry waves are the only waves of consequence for the beach kids to enjoy.
The passenger ferries are even better. They are a smaller, catamaran type passenger only craft. They go faster and make bigger waves. And sometimes the ferry schedule has them crossing each other directly in front of the neighbourhood beach. When the waves are compounded they get much bigger and for about 30 seconds or so, are very exciting!
However, at this point in our present crossing, a good way from shore, the compounding waves were terrifying.
The girls, though still a little morning sleepy, were peacefully sitting together on the sternsheets, bundled up in their wool sweaters, homemade fleece hats and dough boy life jackets. Their mother was in the first rowing station, making good, solid strokes that I would shadow like a synchronized team. Our bow would be greeting the waves head-on.
I must have made a sound. “What’s wrong?” queried the other two strokes of our four stroke engine.
“We’ve got some big waves coming,” I calmly presented, to which the first mate calmly responded, “What should we do?”
“Harden your heart!” is what I was thinking.
“KEEP ROWING!” Is what I commanded. And row we did. Digging the oars just behind the passing waves we would give a full pull and power the boat forward. Our 17 foot length would teeter momentarily atop the 10 foot swell, then dive down into the base of the next big wave and then back up and over- dig and pull, dig and pull…
To my utter amazement, not a drop of water came aboard. The rollercoaster settled down, the sun came out and we had a fantastic weekend. The hull design of the Whitehall is perfect. But it is a symbiotic relationship- you must row!
Bewildered But Determined, The Wager Cup
“Seven,” I shouted for the 3rd time. I guess Rob didn’t hear me the first two times he asked for my score after the par 4 10th. He does that to mess with me and we chuckle. We were playing the Wager Cup, Rob Birman’s annual event on the Northwest Hickory Players’ calendar.
Somehow, through the first 3 holes of the back nine, I was 13 over. The waves were indeed compounding.
“Keep rowing,” I was telling myself, “soon it will settle.” But the winds were picking up. I would need to steady my shaky, achy heart to keep it from panicking and dragging us both down into the unsounded abyss.
I remembered some clutch warrior advice,
“An elevated spirit is weak and a low spirit is weak. Do not let the enemy see your spirit.”- Miyamoto Musashi
While enjoying the good play of others and feeling the welcome sun on my resigned face, I was hardening my heart. Carl’s Mantra of Middle was echoing in my skull, “Middle of the fairway, middle of the green, middle of the cup!” By not slipping into the sloppy dance of despair, like an awkward wallflower, I would just try to feel the beat- stick with the routine, check my breathing and be sure to look at the ball.
Eventually the waves would settle with an unlikely birdie on a tricky par 5. And at the closing 18th, in front of a packed balcony of interested onlookers, possibly wondering if it is possible to make a nice golf shot with a 100 year old hickory shafted club, hemmed knickers and a full Windsor knotted tie, I managed my best iron shot of the day.
The crowd roared! (In my mind…) And two putts later I had a routine par at the gorgeous finishing hole of the White Horse Golf Club.
While somewhat dashed and bruised on the toothy rocks of expectation, it was still a wonderful outing; glorious weather, good company and a fine course. Sure there was some bad golf, but it's just golf. Nothing worth smashing a club, vandalizing the course or otherwise souring the good mood of people whose presence you enjoy.
“Not all adventures are ponies rides in May sunshine.”- Bilbo Baggins
Look closely, what is that in Sir Walter’s hand? Perhaps it is his hardened heart, plucked out for a momentary display; tempered with time and a champion’s hammer, which now rests loosely across a weary shoulder. The eyes might agree…
The Sovereign Golfer may not always play great golf, but at least they can always be a pleasant golfing companion.
Take heart, carry on!
So great. I’ve heard this story before and it was a good one for sure but I love how you put this all together Sir! Thanks for the ride .
Truly a masterful piece written very well. Hats off to ye lad.