Does the law require non-swimmers to wear life jackets (pfd) in the San Juan's - No it does not, but some folks on some boats must wear pfd's.

Oh boy, let's argue.

                  Seriously, you should be conversant with and follow pfd rules, they make sense and save lives.  

This article is a semi-non serious look at the actual usage on board cruiser vessels.

        First of all I'm not trying to make an argument but make a point of different thinking. (just for fun)
Here goes -

        If, and I mean if only one life jacket is worn on board, most would say it should be worn by a clumsy non swimmer because they will most likely need it

. In this intellectually challenged exercise I suggest that the one and only life jacket should be worn by the most capable person because no one else on board is likely to be able to save him.
       
             The most capable person will have to save himself when no one else is able, hence, he should wear the life jacket.  Because >> When the most capable person is gone the rest may perish, when the most capable person needs help, who will help him? So, with this way of thinking, we must preserve the most capable so that the less capable may then be helped.

       Was that clear? OK try this scenario  -- The skipper gets knocked overboard (crazy crew screws up) and is unconscious in the water without a pfd.  By the time the clueless crew can recover (if ever) him/her, it's too late.    Now, the remaining persons on board are at greater risk without the numero uno.

        Next scenario  --The clumsy, helpless crewman trips and goes in the drink without a pfd. The immensely capable skipper springs into action, rescues the klutz in minutes and saves the day.

        My backwards conclusion is that in the first scenario the skipper may have survived had he been wearing the only pfd, but the klumsy klutz crew probably would have survived without a pfd due to the skill of the skipper.

        What! What is he suggesting, that the skipper gets the only pfd? Outrageous! Blasphemy! What about the Master's responsibility to ship, crew and passengers - Keel haul the laggardly sot.

      On a serious note:
        Look around the docks where all the boats are coming and going and you invariably see the women and children  (even pooches) bundled up in the latest good looking approved flotation apparel. Makes sense, right? - save the hapless and helpless from succumbing to a maritime accident lurking around the next slip or piling. Look closely and many times you see the person stepping (we never jump do we) from boat to dock or dock to boat, handling lines, pushing off, keeping track of passengers, other boats, etc, etc, is not wearing a pfd. All the passengers that are seated and doing nothing are properly belted in, but the one person really in harm's way, the one person all others depend on, the one person the others may not be able to save - is not wearing a pfd at all.

       I need to end this tirade by saying that simply having pfd's on board may keep the regulators happy but won't help the unfortunate skipper over the side, while his helpless family watches him struggle.

        There are certain times (docking-working on deck) when all crew and skipper should be wearing safety gear - and that is just good seamanship.

Sobering thought!

Click below for a satellite view of Port Townsend

How many Anchors do you need for cruising in the San Juan Islands when Visiting the Marine Parks

One anchor!
Two!
More?

      The quick and easy answer is, "You need the same amount anywhere you go."

No help so far, okay, let's talk about a scenario that could be any of us.
You arrive at your first night's anchorage, a quiet little protected bay with a rocky bottom.

What a great vacation, hot dogs over a campfire onshore, some wine or beer, a really restful night's sleep, rich coffee in the morning, and then when you try to raise the anchor, your hooked to the biggest rock in the world. After hours of pulling from all directions, you finally give up and cut the line, ouch, 250 bucks worth of anchor and rode, gone.  Oh well, you're not going to let a lost anchor spoil a perfect vacation and off you go to the next idyllic spot in the San Juan's.
Now it really hits home, the dock is full, no one offers to or wants to raft your boat.  So you think, that's okay, I'll just go ashore in the dinghy, find an anchor-shaped rock, bring it back to the mother ship, and tie it to what's left of the cut rode. Except the rode is too short, and you need to stay on board to keep circling in the boat because no one in your crew (wife and children) is qualified to run the boat while you're rock hunting.  So your current ex-spouse rows to shore, and .... see where this is going?

What should happen is you break out a spare anchor and rode that's stored and ready to deploy once you tie off the bitter end.  Your admiring first spouse and children think you're a hero.

OK, dinghy scenario.  Your youngest children who have just mastered rowing are off somewhere nearby while you snooze or read a book.  Little do you know, but they just lost both oars, and the wind is quickly
Click below to read more

Solo Circumnavigation Under Sail Without an Engine No Less

It's true—I have officially joined the ranks of solo sailors. 

But before my head swells too much, I must admit my grand voyage was merely a circumnavigation of Coon Island. Still, I did it solo, and without a motor.

I cast off that melancholy mid-morning, just after breakfast, heading south. Almost immediately, I was met with a 1.5 mph adverse current that began dragging me backward. Fortunately, my 30-year-old, new-to-me 9.5-foot sailing dinghy performed admirably in the light airs, overcoming the current with ease. Soon, I was past the point of no return, rounding the tip of Coon Island while carefully avoiding the sunken breakwater barge.

Once around the point, my trusty vessel was suddenly caught in a swirling vortex that might have rattled a less experienced sailor.

 The tiller went unresponsive as we spun through several dizzying 360-degree turns. Desperate to regain control—and trying not to get clocked in the head—I used my free hand to tame the boom and backwind the mainsail. At last, we broke free from the barge’s swirling eddies and were off, rail down, on three or four swift tacks along the island’s western edge.

Just minutes after breakfast and with no food or water aboard, I was already nearing my final turn. Ahead lay a telling downwind romp back to the dock I had departed from a mere 1,500 seconds earlier

 Easing the mainsheet and slacking the outhaul, there was nothing left to do but bask in well-earned glory as I coasted toward the dock from the opposite direction of my departure.

As I handed my dock line to an admiring power boater, I was met with a warm greeting:

"I see your problem—you’ve got a loose nut on the end of your tiller."

One of two Coon Island floats, on shore are composting toilets, shelter, fire rings, and a few campsites.

       Coon Island is in the Multnomah Channel, a side shoot off the Columbia River. The entire half-mile-long 23-acre island  is a county park  (JJ Collins Marine Park)  and my favorite place to overnight near my home in Portland.

       Now that I have become infected with the circumnavigation bug, I am setting my sights on bigger and more challenging goals. This summer in the San Juans I will attempt Jones Island on July 5th, but I'm not promising any biggies such as Sucia, and of course Orcas is just a dream for my 9.5 sailing dinghy. (Maybe for Orcas, I'll bring my 2.5 hp Suzuki kicker, and a sandwich)
Loose nut indeed!
the rest of the story (I've sold the sailing dinghy and why I did it)