Living where we do, in the San Juan Islands, the opportunities to explore are virtually endless. There are 176 named islands and most are only accessible by boat. The Gulf Islands, just across the aquatic border in Canada, have over 200 islands. This is what makes our region a popular boating destination. People, mostly in big comfortable boats, spend weeks or months island hopping and anchoring in coves and harbors.
The allure of this lifestyle was irresistible. We saw an opportunity to leave home for days at a time and explore. This would be our form of vacation travel. Almost 2 years ago, we invested in a motor boat just big enough to sleep two people and two dogs. She’s a Jeanneau NC 795 that is 26’ long with an outboard motor. We named her Novella and started the long journey of becoming more competent boaters.
As we searched for boats, our friend LJ, a very experienced boater, reminded us of something important to consider. When you have dogs aboard, they will need to go ashore multiple times a day to relieve themselves. She said to think carefully about how that process would work. This was sage advice. For most boaters, this process happens with an inflatable dinghy that attaches to the boat when not used.
During our first summer with Novella, we borrowed a dinghy on a couple of trips and I learned to steer with the tiller of a small electric motor lent to us by our friend Will. The system worked, so we made plans to get our own dinghy for the 2024 season and store it on the roof of Novella. I named it Footnote, in keeping with our literary theme. Thankfully, Will said we could continue using his motor. We were set.
Learning never stops in boating. The basics, like driving and docking, are pretty easy. What takes time is getting all the processes and systems down for safety, comfort, and optimizing time on the water. For example, when we’re at anchor and not connected to the shore, we have to manage and conserve electricity and potable water. We need to feel confident about how we’re anchored and how the weather and tides will change over time. Every trip gives us practice and teaches us new lessons.
Our version of cruising is a lot like camping. The space and supplies are limited, and we sometimes cook with a Coleman stove. It feels like having your own little island that is completely independent. You don’t need anyone’s permission to anchor. We both love the feeling of being alone. The big difference is that your campsite could sink and you could die. That fear is in the back of every boater’s mind, and for good reason. It can happen.
A few weeks ago, we planned to spend two nights on Novella in Fisherman’s Bay, which is off of nearby Lopez Island. This trip seemed easy and more carefree. The bay has a reliable anchorage, a couple of marinas, and a classic restaurant/tiki bar at The Lopez Islander Resort.
Leading up to the trip, we both looked forward to having dinner at the Islander and Sachi said, “I’m definitely going to have a drink Wednesday night”. I agreed wholeheartedly and didn’t think much of it. On Tuesday morning, I was reminded of something important: Wednesday was our 20th wedding anniversary. No wonder she wanted a drink! Shit. We laughed. Anniversaries have never been a thing for us.
This realization provided the trip with new resonance. We were now there to celebrate and looked forward to spending our anniversary day afloat and carefree. On Tuesday evening, just before sunset, we loaded Piper into Footnote, our new dinghy, to go ashore. Most marinas have “dinghy docks” which are low-lying docks that boaters use to access land-base amenities.
Piper and I made our way to the dock and she did her business before we made the return trip. These evening trips feel like a tiny sunset cruise and we both enjoy them.
Just LJ advised, we’ve developed a system for getting dogs off the boat. Sachi waits at the swim step and as we arrive, she grabs a short line and attaches it to Novella so the dinghy stays close. Once that’s secure, Piper can jump out and I can prepare to disembark. When the motor is switched off, we use a longer line to attach Footnote to Novella so it floats safely nearby overnight.
On the eve of our anniversary, my return to Novella was a little different. Sachi was cooking dinner and didn’t want to leave the galley for too long. Sachi tied the short line to Novella, got Piper onto the boat, and said, “You got it?” I said, “Yep, I got it. I got it.” I then switched off the motor and unhooked the short line from Novella so Footnote could float using the long line. I stepped out of Footnote and into dinner.
We hung out for about an hour as the sun went down. With just a bit of light left, I looked at the back of the boat and it felt like lightning went down my spine. Footnote was gone. I said, “Uh, where’s the dinghy?” We both started to panic. Shit. Shit. Shit. Sachi put her head between her folded arms and took measure of the situation.
There was no time for analysis or recrimination. The light was going away, and with it, any hope of finding Footnote that night. Tidal currents are constantly flowing into and out of Fisherman’s Bay. When Footnote was lost, the tide was going out and the wind was blowing in the same direction. So, we decided to try to find it.
We pulled up the anchor and Sachi grabbed our spotlight. As I started the engine, she was perched on the bow of Novella. With everything in place, we puttered around the bay for 30 minutes in the dark, our spotlight sweeping the shore. The navigation screen at the helm was essential for avoiding obstacles and shallow areas, but it was so bright I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t know how to adjust the brightness, so I put my hat over it and leaned out of the window to see and talk to Sachi. It was fruitless. We’d returned to the same spot as before, set the anchor, and started to prepare for a restless night.
It was obvious what happened. When Piper and I returned from shore and Sachi said, “You got it?”, she was referring to me attaching the long line. I thought she meant unhooking the short one. When I stepped off, Footnote began to drift and we didn’t notice. All in all, it was my fault for not checking everything before heading inside. I was embarrassed and feared having to explain this situation to fellow boaters. I was THAT guy.
We were both exhausted and wondering what to do. Our new dinghy and borrowed motor could be lost forever. Could it have washed ashore somewhere as the tide went out? Was it now floating aimlessly in the Salish Sea? I considered using our VHF radio to alert other boaters that night. Who knows, the Coast Guard could even get involved. Nothing sounded worth pursuing until morning when we could take a look ourselves.
On the morning of our 20th anniversary, we awoke to low tide and a lot of anxiety. I started to map a path for the search using our paddleboard. We decided that the best starting point would be the dinghy dock at the marina. Could someone have seen Footnote, grabbed it, and tied it up for us? Fat chance. It was almost dark when it floated away.
As I got closer to the dock, I saw something familiar but dismissed it. Then, as I paddled closer, it became clearer: Footnote was there. OMG. A weight was lifted and I slouched in relief. A kind and anonymous boater had saved our dinghy, and with it, our anniversary celebration. I stepped in, slid the paddleboard across Footnote like airplane wings, and cruised back to Sachi and Novella like a conquering Viking with inflatable booty. There was much rejoicing and our plans could begin again.
For all the stress and anxiety this caused, it ended up being such a valuable lesson. I’ll never let a dinghy float away again. And if I see a random dinghy float by, I will do everything in my power to save it and return it to the owner. Also, I now know how to change the brightness on the navigation screen.
But more than that, it made me rethink the idea of boating being independent. Yes, we were alone, but we were also part of a community of other boaters who are motivated to help one another. Cruising can be incredibly fun and easy, but the reality remains: your campsite could sink and you could die. Because this is the case, we look out for one another. We ask for help and offer help. It’s the boater’s code and this time, we were beneficiaries. I hope some day to return the favor.
We still have so much more to learn and it will come in time and through experiences like this one. As long as we stay afloat, we’ll have a good time.
As a Lopez person, it makes me happy that you have your footnote back!