Three Sheets Northwest

by Marty McOmber

‘CRUISING IN PLACE’ UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE IN THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST

On a gloriously warm and sunny weekend in early May, we trooped down to the marina to spend some time onboard our Passport 40, Meridian. Over a glass of wine in the cockpit our conversation turned to summer cruising plans. Would it be the San Juans? Or maybe farther north to the Gulf Islands, or even a return to the Broughtons?

And then reality hit us. We have no idea what we will be able to do on our boat this year.

The coronavirus has upended everything. We don’t know if the border to Canada will be open for travelers like us. We don’t know which marinas will be open for transients, or which fuel docks and pumpout stations will be available. We don’t know if services and shops ashore will be open.

And quite frankly, we don’t know whether many of those waterfront communities we love to visit will want visitors at all, which is completely understandable.

By the time this piece is published, everything could change for the better, or for the worse. We just don’t know.

As cruising boaters, uncertainty is something we’re accustomed to. We rely on information to keep us safe: weather forecasts, charts, tide and current tables, cruising guides. But while the virus won’t impact meteorological forces, it has completely destroyed the predictability we have come to expect when we cruise in the Pacific Northwest.

The nature of this pandemic means not knowing what the future will be like. Not knowing, not being able to anticipate or plan or think through scenarios—it runs counter to our basic instincts as safe and responsible boaters.

We understand just how fortunate we are to even have the luxury of worrying about how we will use our boat this summer. Many, many people right now are more worried about vastly more important issues, such as their health or the health of their loved ones. Some have buried family members or lost friends. Others have lost their jobs or are in danger of becoming unemployed. Many are struggling just to pay bills or put food on the table.

We haven’t experienced those

Bell Harbor marina on a quiet spring day.

challenges yet. We can work from home and both of our jobs are safe for the time being. Our family members remain healthy at this point. And so we can indulge in making use of a boat that we have poured countless hours into fixing up and that holds our dreams of travel and escape for the future.

But how do we use the boat now? It is a question not just of where we can go and where we will be welcome, but also of our responsibility as boaters to not risk the possibility of unknowingly spreading the virus or needing to use medical facilities in smaller communities with fewer resources.

As we write this column, the San Juan Islands Visitors Bureau has a very polite but clear message for folks like us in boats—stay the hell away. Citing the governor’s stay-at-home order, the bureau is asking boaters not to visit the many local communities dotted across the islands. And if you do show up and drop a hook in one of the many cherished bays and gunkholes, they want you to stay on the boat. No shopping. No eating. No long hikes followed by cold beers at that great little pub.

The website optimistically says that they hope to have some tourism-related activities and supports open by midJune. But the key word there is “hope.” And even if they do begin to reopen by then, the question remains whether many of the people who call the islands home will want a bunch of boaters, many

from the hardest-hit areas of the state, spending time in their communities. I wouldn’t if I were them.

At first glance, a boat seems like the perfect way to escape during this pandemic. You can isolate yourself from others while still being out in nature. But that is not really the case. Because travelling, even close to home, is a twoway interaction. There is the visitor and the visited. And it requires that both parties are happy with that arrangement.

So for us, we are taking a wait-andsee attitude about this summer. We are, maybe for the first time, contemplating hauling out in August — rather than the colder, rainier times of year — to work on some much-needed repairs to the hull.

When we do take the boat out, we will provision with enough food and water that we will not have to step ashore — especially in places where we aren’t wanted. And we will likely stay pretty close to home, no more than a day’s sail back to our homeport. We consider ourselves under a self-imposed “cruising at home” order until further notice.

It’s not ideal, but given the circumstance, we are incredibly fortunate to have it as an option.

Marty McOmber is a longtime Pacific Northwest boater and the co-founder of Three Sheets Northwest with his wife Deborah. You can find them sailing their Passport 40 around the Salish Sea.