Back to School in the San Juans
by Hoyt and Steffen Schmidt
March 19, 1998
Hoyt: After days of dreamily wandering around the marinas in Seattle, Kelly, Steffen, and I drove up to Anacortes, Washington and walked into the Travelers Yacht Sales, Inc. Anacortes office looking for the instructor who we’d seen described in the brochure in Seattle:
Margaret (Marge) Reese is our Sailing Academy Director. She is a U.S.C.G. Licensed Captain and Instructor Certified by the American Sailing Association. She sailed alone or shorthanded on all the oceans of the world during a 14-year offshore odyssey. She offers a multitude of sailing experiences to share with her students.
This was exactly the kind of instructor I wanted; a mature woman who would be sympathetic to another mature woman wanting to learn to sail big boats.
“Are you the lady in the brochure?”
“Yes, I am.”
Margaret (Marge) Reese, partner in Travelers Yachts, Anacortes, Washington. Appearing to be in her 60s, she’s a pretty, leathery, wiry little person with sparkly piercing eyes that miss very little. She turned out to be a charming, articulate companion in the evenings and a no nonsense drillmaster during the day.
“Oh, great. You’re just the person we’ve come to see. We’re the Schmidts, from Iowa. I’m Hoyt Schmidt. This is my husband Steffen and my daughter Kelly and we would like to get qualified to charter large cruising sailboats.” Where on earth did that come from? I’m normally very shy.
“You mean bareboat charter?”
“Yes.”
“Um hum. And what experience have you had?”
“Well, we have a MacGregor 26 in Iowa now. We had a Pearson 26 and a Pearson 22 thirty years ago on the East coast and we’ve sailed other smaller boats like Snipes, a Lido 14 and Kelly took a sailing class on Lasers in Seattle. . . .and. . .and. . ”
“That sounds good. You do understand that getting qualified means four written tests (8 hours of testing) and many hours of sailing practice and testing on the water.”
“That’s OK. We’re teachers. We can do it. We give tests all the time!” I blithely replied.
“ I think I can get you qualified if you work really hard. What time period did you have in mind?”
“Well, how about the week of May 17 – 23rd? Would a week be enough? I was breathless as a child.
We discussed the financial logistics and it turned out to be less expensive to charter the boat and then hire Marge separately for six days. Hearts in our mouths, we chartered the Pacific Seacraft 40. Marge gave us packets of materials and books to study in the meantime. It was a long two-month wait to begin.
5/16/98 Seattle to Anacortes
We had arranged to spend the night before the charter on board and were to meet Marge at the office at 3:00 p.m. Steffen and I left Kelly’s at noon and arrived at Anacortes before 2:00. The Marine Festival was in full swing along the docks. We wandered around, ate Cajun pita and jambalaya, watched model boat demonstrations, and then went in to Travelers to let Marge know we’d arrived. She welcomed us graciously, gave us the boat combination at #83 P dock, and sent us off to find our boat. We walked all the way around the harbor and out to the end of P dock to Irotama II. . . AWESTRUCK! We climbed aboard, stood in the cockpit, and stared at the distant bow, frozen at the thought of getting her in and out of a slip and docking. My stomach rolled. Steffen looked green.
“Hey, we said we were going to do it, and we will! She’ll teach us. That’s what we’re here for!”
We swallowed the fear and spent the next hour tracing the lines and sheets. She’s a cutter! Both roller furling and lazy jacks. Wonderful woodwork everywhere. Forward cabin, double quarter berth, complete oven, refrigerator, double sink, comfy settee and sofa seat (also berths; she sleeps 7), chart table, head with a fantastic shower. . .light, airy, beautiful, brand spanking new boat. The chance of a life time.
Steffen: As we prepared to embark on our week-long adventure, I had knots in my stomach. There were several thoughts that raced through my mind on that night aboard before leaving the slip.
1. We were responsible for a vessel that cost more than most people’s homes.
2. We were going out into the San Juan Islands, an area that on the charts looks like someone took a case of Oreos, crushed and scattered them, crumblike all over the deep blue tablecloth of the sea. These are sharp cookies, some of them submerged, some of them submerged sometimes.
3. We had electronic devices, depth sounder, wind indicator, VHF radio, GPS to get our position from satellite signals. These would be very important. I have five computers. I trust no electronics!
4. Looking down Irotama’s 40 foot deck, I once again panicked at the challenge of steering this monster out of and into docks. In a way, the open waters seemed more forgiving than the jambalaya of bows, sterns, huge creosoted pilings, sharp, thick docks, rip rap in the harbor, electric outlet boxes with razor sharp edges, and other implements jutting out in a big marina – these seemed like the real threat!
Coupled with the apprehension was an air of adventure, even freedom. I assumed and hoped we would be essentially incommunicado. I could get no e-mail. I could not hit the Internet. I would not have The New York Times for a whole week!
Nervousness yielded quickly to excitement and exhilaration as we began our adventure. There were not many large sailboats venturing out. It was early in the season. It was the start of the week, so the San Juans were quiet. Once out, the cold air blowing into the rigging, all hands ready for the first leg of the trip; it felt wonderful! We might as well be headed out the Strait of Juan de Fuca aiming directly for Tahiti or Tuvalu.
Irotama. She was so huge!
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