Chapter ll: Relections of Cruises Past

During the late 1940's to mid-1950's my parents, Bee and Willard Bergh took me and my sister, Patty, out on the water as often as possible. On weekends it was taken for granted that we were leaving to go somewhere. We might head east from our moorage near the Ballard Bridge, traversing Lake Washington Ship Canal to spend a summer day on Lake Washington. After cutting the engine, we would picnic and sunbathe; drifting aimlessly with no concern about meeting other boats on the lake. There weren't many. If heading west, we might go through the locks and cruise to destinations around the sound...Port Madison to try out the fishing hole, Hood Canal for oysters roasted over a beach fire, or perhaps Silverdale or Vashon Island to visit relatives. For a description of our boat, see Chapter I: The Boat.

Beginning as an eight year-old, I can remember the excitement of going through the Ballard (Hiram M. Chittenden) Locks. Our boat's engine was very unpredictable, and because of this, I dreaded seeing the light at the end of the pilings at the approach to the lock area. If red, that meant we would have to tie to the siding and wait for the locks to open and empty. The decision had to be made. Should we kill the engine? One more chance for it to get the better of us. The experience of "locking through" was traumatic enough as it was.

It was my job to push on the slippery, slimy, moss-covered concrete and keep the boat off, to get signals from the tiny man way above my head, and to dodge a curl of heavy rope as it plummeted to our deck. Most important was keeping the bow line taut (without tying it down). That was a big responsibility. I felt self conscious standing on the bow handling the line, but always enjoyed smiling back at the spectators who were obviously envious of anyone lucky enough to be able to have adventures on her family's boat.

My favorite cruises were the extended ones from Seattle to the San Juan Islands (and occasionally to the Gulf Islands). By 1952, my parents had bought property at Pear Point on the north shore of San Juan Island's Griffin Bay. When arriving by boat, we would anchor in a small niche that was wide open to south winds. Many times dad and I would have to get up on a stormy night, dinghy out to the boat, and move her to the shelter of Turn Island or farther into Griffin Bay. Our home was in a retired Navy tent that was set up among the trees. Cooking was done over the campfire in front of the tent. Later, we built a one room cabin, equipped with a big wood stove. Coleman lanterns brought us light and, for water, we filled five gallon jugs in town. Dad built three outhouses, each located behind a tree. That way we didn't need front doors.

Each summer we made several trips to the property. After leaving the locks, we would stop for herring at a small shack on the north shore, check out how many diners were watching from the windows of Ray's Boathouse, and finally toot at Jim and Lois Tregoning as we passed Tregoning Shipyard on the Shilshole Bay shore. This was a well rehearsed ritual, and marked the beginning of a cruise north.

Traveling at full speed of seven knots and slowing to troll made our trips long ones. I did get to use a fishing pole and choose my favorite sppinners and handy dandy plugs, but,, if I had a bite, dad would always have the fun of reeling him in. My job was to lean over the side and net the innocent victim. Cruising along, if not fishing or steering, I would be on the top bunk in the bow looking out the porthole, watching the land pass by, listening to the bow breaking through the water. By leaving early in the morning, we could go through the locks and arrive at Possession Point at the south tip of Whidbey by late afternoon. Upon reaching the hallowed fishing grounds, we would try our luck and then anchor for the night opposite a row of summer cabins along the eastern shore.

In the morning, if dad had his way, we would take a short cut and go the most direct route up the outside (west side) of Whidbey Island and cross the Strait of Juan de Fuca to Cattle Point and Griffin Bay. The rips near Point Wilson and the swells in the open waters near Smith Island gave us many frightening times. I always hoped that it wouldn't be foggy. We did have a compass, but we did not have a marine radio or depth sounder, let alone radar.

Depending on the weather forecast and the whims of my mother, we would often take the inside route up Saratoga Passage and either go through Deception Pass and cross Rosario Strait, or, if adverse conditions dictated, take the calmest route up Swinomish Channel (Swinomish Slough in those days) past La Conner to Anacortes.

I can remember passing the mama-papa fishing resorts along Camano Island. Rows of identical cabins stretched along the beach with ramps or marine ways to launch all sorts of small boats. From there, many an expectant fisherman would head for the rich fishing grounds of Hope Island in Skagit Bay. When we were in the area, we would go ashore at the Hope Island Inn to enjoy their famous clam chowder.

We often stopped at La Conner to walk around the waterfront buildings and hike to Pioneer Park. We enjoyed reading about early Skagit County history when La Conner was County Seat (Mount Vernon is today) and when pioneer Louisa A Conner and her husband started a trading post. Once, when about ten, my cousin and I wandered nonchalantly into the La Conner Tavern and were quickly shown the door. We had seen a big stainless steel ice cream cabinet in the window.

It was often a challenge to leave La Conner and head north in the slough. In agreement with this was an article by Doug Nash in the December 2002 issue of 48 degrees North. His consternation was when the railroad bridge at the north end of Swinomish Channel was closed, not allowing boat traffic to pass. Bridges have long been hazards at that spot, somewhat relieved by the two modern highway bridges which span the channel today. My mom's Ship's Log of July 28, 1949 reads: "Left La Conner at 8:15 a.m. Tide running north. Expected to clear bridge, but when realized it should be up, reverse wasn't strong enough to buck current. Carried us under and we cleared with damage to the aluminum ventilator cowl. Cleared next bridge easily, but after four blasts on our horn, had to circle clear of the third bridge while the bridgekeeper went to close each end by hand before he could swing bridge open."

The inland route often made for an even calmer trip than that of going through Deception Pass. For example, the log of July 1952 reads: "Trolled in Skagit Bay, arriving Cornet Bay about 3:30 p.m. Tied to logboom to await tide for Deception. Decided to spend night when another boat returned twice after running the pass and said it was too rough outside. Moved past dock and dropped anchor. Boats thick around. Dragged anchor about 11:30 p.m. Tide running fast. Rain and strong wind. Slid past one boat and grabbed a line from another. Tied up but kept swinging around. Another boat, nearby, dragged about 3:00 a.m." I can still picture my mom standing on the deck in her nightgown, holding a line and bracing herself against the wind and rain.

When cruising through the islands we would poke the bow into nooks and crannies in the shorelines and make frequent stops to dig clams. Other than the ferries, there was very little pleasure boat traffic during those years. After anchoring, it was common practice to take a dip to enjoy a brief swim, and to do the laundry in the salt water.

The communities at Olga, Eastsound, Orcas Landing, Deer Harbor, Lopez, Friday Harbor, and Roche Harbor were intriguing and we'd go ashore to stretch our legs. Some floats were available, but marina and resort facilities were much different from what they are today. Rosario was a private estate (until 1960) and Roche Harbor was a lime mining community (until 1956). Pantley's Resort (formerly Ebb Tide Resort and Lopez Inn), was located on Lopez Island's Fisherman Bay. Today it is the Lopez Islander Resort and Marina. Also on Orcas, Doe Bay Resort, Bartel's Resort, and West Beach Resort welcomed families. In fact, Orcas was known as The Resort Island.

A favorite stop-over was in a little bay on Decatur Island. Today it is known as Sylvan Cove and is home to a private development. We knew it as San Elmo, a peaceful bay with a wharf and farmhouse at the head. There, one could tie to the dock and go to the farmhouse for breakfast or a delicious chicken dinner (reservations advised). This destination was noted many times in our log.

If traveling the La Conner route, we would often meet friends and relatives in Anacortes, take them around the islands for a day or two, and leave them at Orcas Landing to take the ferry back to Anacortes. It was on one such day in July, 1949 when we arrived at Orcas Landing to find the charred remains of the very popular Orcas Store, previously located adjacent to the ferry landing. Soon after, the store was rebuilt and remains the center of action today.

Deer Harbor was another popular site on Orcas Island. Norton's Cafe, (Deer Harbor Inn) was famous for its fried chicken. The floats at Deer Harbor Resort provided shore access. In 1950, I remember great, warm-water swimming in the concrete-walled tidal saltwater swimming pool on shore to the left of the floats. Today it is filled with earth, but the bulkhead can still be seen. The July 29, 1950 log reads, "Cruised from Double Island anchorage to Deer Harbor while rafted alongside Babe and Lil on the Klootchman. Lost flag staff. Too much wake so had to separate. Chicken very good at Norton's. Deer Harbor crowded with boats all partying-except us. Debated going to community dance. Instead, in sack at 12:20 a.m." I can well remember the noise from the Deer Harbor Community Hall where people came from miles around (by both land and sea) to dance the night away.

My mind's eye quickly recalls a sleepy San Juan Island in the early 1950's. Extensive pastures and farms spread through the island's central valley. Friday Harbor was noted more as the site of the County Seat than as a tourist destination. Friday Harbor was the business center for the island's farmers, many of whom turned into fishermen during the summer. Rafted fish boats lined the wharves and Saturday night fishermen's dances were big on the social calendar. There was no port-operated marina facility. The ferry landing was at the bottom of Spring Street. Steam puffed from the huge cannery standing proudly on pilings along the waterfront.

Brown Island, located in the middle of the harbor, was offered to the city for $16,000 to be the site of a city park and swimming pool. Virgil Frits and his Friday Harbor Journal were the authority regarding the news and, for the price of a nickel, you could find out everything that had happened that week, not only in Friday Harbor, but in all of San Juan County. My dad dreamed of running that paper someday.

In the early 1950's I used to walk the streets and window shop. You could look through the window of the telephone company on Second Street and watch the back of the switchboard operator as she busily plugged in cords to connect numbers on the party lines. Spring Street store fronts contained real estate offices, a studio of a noted woman artist, the upper and lower taverns, cafes and restaurants, the Friday Harbor Journal, Robert's Hardware, the Snack Shack, Scribner's and King's Markets, the San Juan County Bank, clothing stores, the famous Friday Harbor Drugs, a barber shop, laundromat, and the post office. Near the intersection of Spring and Argyle, the Darigold Creamery, Moore's Motel, and the auto garage were always busy.

After being a Brownie turned Girl Scout, it seemed natural to become a Mariner Scout during the Jr. High and early High School years. Six of us composed Mariner Troup #649, North Star. My mother was the leader. She worked with us to earn our badges and took us to the University of WA to attend Boating Small Craft Safety classes, (with a stop at Dick's 19 cent hamburgers on Holman Road. Dick's is still there today.) We had great times being invited by Sea Scout troops around the sound whenever they were launching their renovated boats and wanted some girls to do the christenings. The girls, with the help of parents, would come to Friday Harbor by ferry. We would campout and, during their visit, dad and mom would take all of us on cruises around the islands. We sun bathed, hoping the Sea Scouts were around, and sang songs as we went along. I remember Cruising Down the River became Cruising Down the Straits.....

On the island, teenagers wondering what to do would hang out at the Snack Shack. It was a fine gathering place, and, in the tradition of Happy Days, it was a good place to go. On my 16th birthday I walked over two miles from Pear Point into town to gorge on one of their delicious banana splits. Other entertainments included going to see feature films, weekends only, at the vintage theater. There were always snipe hunts, beach parties, rabbit netting parties, and the perennial cruising of Spring Street to Turn-Around-Park and back up again. Summer nights weren't complete without a visit to the ferry landing to greet islanders returning home on the last ferry. Lastly, for many townspeople, the highlight of the week was the Saturday night dance and twirling to the music of the Reynold's Family Band.

It was about this time that Vic Reynolds was laid off at Browne Lumber Company and the family pondered what they were going to do to survive. Margaret worked at Friday Harbor Drugs and Vic Jr. and Jeannie were in high school. While all of us sat on their living room floor brain-storming, someone mentioned the lot next door to their house. Located across from the high school, it would be a perfect place for a drive-in. No time was wasted. This family affair demanded all of their time, money, and energy for many years. Today, nearly 50 years later, Vic's Drive-in, the oldest restaurant in Friday Harbor, still makes the best burgers in town (my opinion, of course). Try the Pro-Deluxe....today's most popular menu item. I called Vic's Drive-in on June 7, 2003 and learned of an article at http://www.sanjuanislander.com/businesses/restaurants/vics.shtml It is headed Vic's new owners continue restaurant romance. On February 14, 2000 Kevin Widmayer and Linda Jensen purchased the business from Trish Harris and Mike Sharkey, who had owned it for ten years. And so the story of Vic's continues. Judging from the faces in the pictures, a good time is still had by all.

Without a doubt, other than the County Fair, the most popular event for visitors and residents alike was the San Juan Island Rendezvous. This annual event was an all-day-all-night affair. Originated in 1948, boaters from throughout the northwest would come to Friday Harbor on the second Saturday in August. After anchoring or beaching boats south of town near the Friday Harbor Shipyard, the visitors would roam the beach and indulge in a feast of barbecued salmon, cole slaw, bread, and coffee. Over a ton of salmon was cooked each year. The dinner was free, donations appreciated. Activities were planned in town and on the beach. These included crowning the Rendezvous Queen, touring the University of Washington Labs, and tripping the light fantastic at the Rendezvous Dance.

In the third paragraph, change to read In 1959, my dad bought the Friday Harbor Shipyard and renamed it the San Juan Island Shipyard and Boat Service. (He had always been a frustrated mechanic, as noted in Chapter 1: The Boat.) He wisely hired experienced shipyard owners, Lois and Jim Tregoning, to run it. By 1962, after retiring from the Seattle School District, dad built a cedar home on Brown Island (the development was called Friday Island at that time). Living on the island until his death in 1978, his favorite job was piloting The Cove forth and back on her runs to downtown Friday Harbor. As a Captain in the Navy Reserve, his love of boats and the water was exemplified in many ways throughout his life.

Today's young people boating with their families may well be collecting similar memories of their experiences. Who can ever forget the excitement of buying your first souvenir to bring home from vacation? (Mine was a little white porcelain poodle dog from Robert's Hardware.)

Who can forget the soft scraping sound as the boat's bottom scratches the beach just before going aground?

Who can forget the peaceful, still waters reflecting majestic forests as seen from a boat at anchor in a secluded hideaway?

Finally, who can forget sitting in front of the fire on a wintry day, re-reading the Ship's Log, recalling the good times, and making plans for another summer of good cruising.......

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