We were planning to travel south through the Swinomish Channel on our way to Kingston, our home port for the winter. Having never sailed south of Anacortes, I was looking forward to the experience. I had found surprisingly few accounts of traversing such an interesting stretch of water, and in general this is a good sign. People will often recount  their harrowing experiences and not bother when things go well.

Our trip through was uneventful, but I wanted to share some things about it.
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The Swinomish Channel is a 7.5nm long waterway, measured from the railroad bridge on the north end to the south exit located just west of goat island. It separates Fidalgo Island from the mainland and requires dredging every three to five years to keep it navigable. It is also one of only three ways to get between Puget Sound and the San Juan Islands.
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We timed things right and got a very nice current asset all the way through. We were not stopping in La Conner and so didn’t try to make it there at slack water, which simplified things. The available information says that the current flows south from 2.5-4 hrs before and after low tide in La Conner. By entering the channel at low tide we were guaranteed a current assist all the way. As a bonus, there was no turbulence to speak of.

It wasn’t a difficult trip but it was complex, requiring my full attention the entire way.

The complexity was due to several things.

• It was our first time through.
• It was shallow all the way.
• It was narrow, with lots of sandbars.
• It was easy to get distracted while sightseeing.
• We are a deep keel, slow moving sailboat.
• The current was strong.
• We were running between storm fronts.

Having used the iSailor navigation app for the last four years going up and down the inside passage, I’ve come to trust my little chart plotter. This was a requirement navigating the channel. 

Numbers for our transit, October 14, 2020
La Conner low tide 10am @ .63 feet
La Conner high tide 4:23pm @ 10.41ft 
Left Anacortes at 9:15am.
Arrived at the railroad bridge and north entrance to the channel at approximately 10:30 am.
Passed La Conner at 11am. Tide was at 1.6 feet and rising.
Cleared the south end of the channel west of Goat Island at 11:45 am.

Advice for when you go.
Go with the flow.
Pick a leap tide. This should minimize the current so if you decide to dock in La Conner, it shouldn’t be much of a problem.
Know your chart plotter and use it.
Stay in the middle of the channel.
Keep a constant watch on the depth.

If you plan ahead and then stay focused during transit, Swinomish Channel shouldn’t pose a problem for even deep keeled sailboats.

I’m a prepper.

I’m proud of that because when the anchor is set, I get to sit back with a glass of wine, cuddle my happy wife, and smile. I get to bask in her accolades of my captaining prowess while enjoying one of her excellent passage cookies. 

I can do this because I prepare! I study, I plan, I check and double check. And yes, I fret. As Captain I see this as my job and enjoy it in a love/hate sort of way. So, when it came time to head back to the states, I started early and took copious notes.

We were going to run the Canadian/US border. It’s closed of course. The world is in turmoil from covid, global warming, and all sorts of nasty crap not the least of which is the upcoming Presidential elections.

We were going to leave Canada’s quiet sanity and cross the closed border into the US, which is not a happy place right now.

Yes, we are Americans, but we have been away a long time. I called the US border office in Anacortes to get a feel for the situation. It went something like this:

Me: “Hi, we will be crossing from Canada back into the States on our boat and wonder if there is anything we should know. Can we use Nexus?”

Officer: “From Canada? You are American citizens?”

Me: “Yes”

Officer: “The border is closed, how long have you been in Canada?”

Sarah and I both agreed the best approach here was honesty.

Me: “About 14 months.”

Officer: “14 months? What have you been doing there?”

Me: “We’ve been on vacation.” 

I really don’t think he wanted to give me a hard time, he was just having trouble with the whole ‘sailing in Canada for the last year or so during a worldwide pandemic’ thing. I’m sure he knew that Canada only allows visitors to stay for 6 months at a time, but he also knew that wasn’t his concern, being US customs. After a moment he went on.

Officer: “Nexus is working fine, just check in like you are supposed to.”

Before I could say thank you, he asked about the sticker.

Officer: “Do you have your sticker?”

Damn. Honesty, remember?

Me: “No, we don’t.”

I think he was really happy to find something to correct us on.

Officer: “You need to get a sticker.”

I had no idea how to do that while in Canada, but be sure I was going to figure it out.

Me: “Thank you, I will.”

He seemed quite satisfied.

Officer: “Ok, have a good day.”

Me: “Thank you.”

The sticker was ordered and on it’s way that day.

And how did the crossing go?

It was surprisingly easy. As required, we called in the minute we crossed into US waters. They wanted our exact GPS coordinates and about every other number you could think of. We had them all ready, even the little sticker number. 

When we were given the all clear by customs I wanted a glass of wine and I mean right now, but I was still driving the boat. Instead I got a kiss and hug from my understanding wife, two passage cookies, and a promise of wine when we docked in Friday Harbor. A great ending to an otherwise stressful situation.

Home. Im not sure what that means anymore.

For us, home isn’t where we live. Our home is a sailboat and we take it with us. We sail away and then we live wherever the anchor is set and we can relax. For several years Otter Bay has not only been where we live, it has become home. Even though we leave during the summers to explore, we still return there to sit out the winter storms.

It’s hard to imagine not wintering in our safe little bay. The quiet, the rain and snow, even the winds are familiar. I’ve spent time writing from the marina pavilion, and laughing with Sarah as the wind howls through the rigging. On a calm night, the boat will rock as the last ferry sails off across Swanson Channel. All of these things we’ve come to know over the years.

We’ve come to know the people as well. I really can’t say enough about the friends we’ve made who have adopted us. Island people are the best and we will be hard pressed to find as caring souls anywhere else in our travels.

Nestled into North Pender Island, Otter Bay is the closest thing we have found to our ideal place, a bay where the anchor sets into firm mud and we are responsible for all that happens. Our home became the world around us.

But now it’s time to go. Time to leave Otter Bay, the Gulf Islands, Canada. We are heading south into the US and I’m not sure when we will get back. Wherever we go, I’d like to believe that Otter Bay will stay in our memories. And there, the bay and our friends will be waiting for us to return.