The title may be a little misleading, but let me explain . . .
I was lucky enough to be born 
and raised in Seattle to a father and mother (actually, most of the time, my mom), who loved to sail. Mom and Dad took me out sailing for my first sailing experience when I was an infant in a boat named Cirus.
They secured a high chair on the deck, strapped me in it for 
my very first day of sailing. So I heard later, Dad told Mom upon arriving home that I was a born sailor as I never cried during my first day on the water. If that happened today, Mom and Dad would probably be arrested for child abuse.
The first boat I can remember was a Blanchard 33. It was built at the Blanchard Boat Works which was located on Lake Union very close to the University Bridge. It was built in 1947. Our family bought it in or about 1953. It was 33.5′ in length, had a beam of 8.75′ and a draft of 5′. VARUNA. It was a beautiful boat.
Now for the Christmas part. . . Every summer until 1960 we took a 9 day trip in the VARUNA to the US and Canadian San Juan Islands. I can still remember counting the days until our departure. I had a hard time sleeping in anticipation of finally throwing the last line onto the dock and getting under way from Lake Washington. For me, it was like waiting for Christmas to finally arrive.
We would finally head out across Lake Washington, through the canal and Lake Union in the late afternoon. We would get burgers and milkshakes to go. Yummy real thick ice cream milkshakes in those days and tasty hamburgers dripping with grease on the wrappers.
We went through the locks and into Elliott Bay just as it was getting dark. Most of the time, my younger brother and I crawled into our sleeping bags in the V berth before we arrived in Port Madison on the south end of Bainbridge Island for the night. With Mom at the tiller, we motored on this first leg of our journey. I can still remember how much I enjoyed being in my bunk as the boat cut through the water, the water swishing down the side of the VARUNA put me right to sleep.
No propane in those days, our only heat and cooking appliance was a wood cast iron stove located in the aft part of the focsle. In the morning, we would wake up to the smell of smoke and coffee drifting forward in the cabin from the stove and Dad’s percolator coffee pot. He loved his first cup of Joe before weighing anchor.
We would depart early from Port Madison and head north. Hopefully, there was wind and from the right direction. Many times there was not much wind, so we would motor.
On one occasion, we were heading north. I was at the helm, which I loved, and my dad was down below in the cabin. I was watching the compass, watching for boat traffic and looking at the chart. I thought I was doing a great job until our keel touched bottom and the boat lurched forward. I had never seen Dad jump out of the cabin and into the cockpit so fast . . .
More in the next installment . .
Can’t wait for the next installment!!!!!
Yes! Really enjoyed this and am looking forward to more!