Just a Few Tales of this old Tugboat
This story was told to Rich by an Old Salt who knew her 'back in the day.'
In 2008, we were hauled out in the Port Townsend Boatyard for the summer. Onboard the then-named Crusader, (from 1973 to 2010) Rich was working his way through a long list of smaller and larger repairs. Pamela and their daughters, Sophie, 15, and Zenia, 11, were back in Seattle while the girls finished up the school year. Port Townsend was and is the finest boatyard in the region for drydocking a wooden boat, especially one of the Crusader's vintage. Port Townsend Shipwrights' Co-op and other sources can provide you with skilled craftsmen of all sorts, whether it is caulking seams, working on your propeller or working on your rigging, for the sailors out there.
But we have always done all our own work. Rich is the highly skilled and energetic craftsman while Pamela acts as the go-fer, tool organizer, and accountant of the operation. As long as she feeds him tools and materials, Rich is working at what he does best: meticulous craftsmanship and endless energy and productivity.
This particular day 18 years ago, Rich was working on scaffolding 15 feet up in the air when an old sailor walked up to the hull, scrutinized the boat from stem to stern, looked up at Rich and, without preamble, asked him, "Is this the Edward A. Young?"
Rich, surprised, answered, "Yes, sir. That's what they called her up to the early 70s."
The old salt continued, "Well, sir, I was there the day she died."
After a stunned silence, Rich's curiosity got the best of him.
"Tell me more!"
The Old Salt went on to tell Rich his memory of the fateful day when the Edward A. Young was pulling its tow in one of Tacoma, Washington's waterways.
"Well, she went into irons," he said matter-of-factly.
Rich, not familiar with this term, asked what he meant. For a tugboat, he learned, it is a fatal maneuver. Normally the tug, the towline and the tow all line up with the tugboat pulling it all along straight. Sometimes, though, an unfortunate situation develops. Perhaps because they're in tight quarters. Maybe the current, tides or wind are pushing the tug or its tow in an unexpected direction. Maybe the Captain spoke badly of Neptune? Well! Whatever the circumstances, the unfortunate captain of the Edward A. Young watched as the tug's towline went from the tow bit, over to the starboard side and down into the water, NOT toward the tow. The tow had ended up on the port side. Now the towline was running from the cleat in the middle of the deck (tow bit), over the starboard gunwale, underneath the tugboat and over to the tow off the port side. Disaster hovered in the wind. The tugboat was in a very dangerous predicament. The tow, pushed by current or wind, moved away from the tug. The Edward A. Young turned turtle, flipped over by the towline and capsized in minutes!
If the towline had been only an inch in diameter and a crew member had jumped on it with a very sharp knife to cut the towline, perhaps a disaster could have been averted. Such was not the case for the Edward A Young.
Well, my friends, that was the end of the working days of the tugboat Edward A. Young.
For a YouTube video of a tug "going into irons," check out https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgC2SOQNCTk.
But we have always done all our own work. Rich is the highly skilled and energetic craftsman while Pamela acts as the go-fer, tool organizer, and accountant of the operation. As long as she feeds him tools and materials, Rich is working at what he does best: meticulous craftsmanship and endless energy and productivity.
This particular day 18 years ago, Rich was working on scaffolding 15 feet up in the air when an old sailor walked up to the hull, scrutinized the boat from stem to stern, looked up at Rich and, without preamble, asked him, "Is this the Edward A. Young?"
Rich, surprised, answered, "Yes, sir. That's what they called her up to the early 70s."
The old salt continued, "Well, sir, I was there the day she died."
After a stunned silence, Rich's curiosity got the best of him.
"Tell me more!"
The Old Salt went on to tell Rich his memory of the fateful day when the Edward A. Young was pulling its tow in one of Tacoma, Washington's waterways.
"Well, she went into irons," he said matter-of-factly.
Rich, not familiar with this term, asked what he meant. For a tugboat, he learned, it is a fatal maneuver. Normally the tug, the towline and the tow all line up with the tugboat pulling it all along straight. Sometimes, though, an unfortunate situation develops. Perhaps because they're in tight quarters. Maybe the current, tides or wind are pushing the tug or its tow in an unexpected direction. Maybe the Captain spoke badly of Neptune? Well! Whatever the circumstances, the unfortunate captain of the Edward A. Young watched as the tug's towline went from the tow bit, over to the starboard side and down into the water, NOT toward the tow. The tow had ended up on the port side. Now the towline was running from the cleat in the middle of the deck (tow bit), over the starboard gunwale, underneath the tugboat and over to the tow off the port side. Disaster hovered in the wind. The tugboat was in a very dangerous predicament. The tow, pushed by current or wind, moved away from the tug. The Edward A. Young turned turtle, flipped over by the towline and capsized in minutes!
If the towline had been only an inch in diameter and a crew member had jumped on it with a very sharp knife to cut the towline, perhaps a disaster could have been averted. Such was not the case for the Edward A Young.
Well, my friends, that was the end of the working days of the tugboat Edward A. Young.
For a YouTube video of a tug "going into irons," check out https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgC2SOQNCTk.
Well, my friends, that was not the end of this hardy boat's sea stories!
A Happier Tale in the Life of This Maritime Phoenix
We're not sure exactly how long the tugboat Edward A. Young sat on the bottom in the Tacoma Waterway. People familiar with how teredo worms drill into wood think she might have been down for as long as three years! Teredo worms are actually not worms at all but a soft-shelled clam that eats wood. Heavens!
Anyways, eventually this sturdy tugboat rose again, like the seawater phoenix she is.
The Edward A. Young was bought for salvage rights in 1973 by a family with long maritime ties to the Pacific Northwest boating community. They renamed her the Crusader. A daughter of the family, Trish, came onboard many years after her family had sold the Crusader when we were hauled out in drydock in 2016. Trish remembers spending an entire summer when she was a kid digging sand out of the stern of the boat, probably accumulated during the time she sat on the bottom. The new owners stepped two tall masts onto her deck with crutch poles set below deck on either side of the masts' feet and, voila! The Edward A Young tugboat became the Crusader, brigantine rig.
Anyways, eventually this sturdy tugboat rose again, like the seawater phoenix she is.
The Edward A. Young was bought for salvage rights in 1973 by a family with long maritime ties to the Pacific Northwest boating community. They renamed her the Crusader. A daughter of the family, Trish, came onboard many years after her family had sold the Crusader when we were hauled out in drydock in 2016. Trish remembers spending an entire summer when she was a kid digging sand out of the stern of the boat, probably accumulated during the time she sat on the bottom. The new owners stepped two tall masts onto her deck with crutch poles set below deck on either side of the masts' feet and, voila! The Edward A Young tugboat became the Crusader, brigantine rig.
A drawing of a classic brigantine rig
Unfortunately we don't have any images of the Crusader when she was rigged as a brigantine. Ah, well.
We listened to stories Trish told about family cruises north and south in the Salish Sea. The family had acquired a cannon for the foredeck. Shooting off the cannon signaled the beginning of cocktail hour! During one of these summer cruises, the family headed for Semiahmoo Bay, by the Canadian border. The summer months oftentimes lead to expansive tidelands in this area. The family was enjoying a late dinner when their father got up to see how the tide was doing.
"Nobody move!" he shouted from the aft deck. It turns out the Crusader was sitting high and dry in the middle of the tide flats, balanced on her keel. The entire family was frozen in place trying to figure out what to do, fearful any move would have them rolling down onto her side. After a while, Father decided "What the heck!" He got out a rope ladder, lowered himself off the middle of the boat's stern onto the tide flat and went looking for oysters or clams or geoducks! He found a few, hauled himself back into the boat while the tide came back in and they added the shellfish to dinner! After sailing the Crusader for 5 years, the family decided it was time for a change. The Crusader was purchased from them by another family out of Tillamook, Oregon. Home of Tillamook Cheddar Cheese, the Tillamook River and great coastal winds for sailing.
We listened to stories Trish told about family cruises north and south in the Salish Sea. The family had acquired a cannon for the foredeck. Shooting off the cannon signaled the beginning of cocktail hour! During one of these summer cruises, the family headed for Semiahmoo Bay, by the Canadian border. The summer months oftentimes lead to expansive tidelands in this area. The family was enjoying a late dinner when their father got up to see how the tide was doing.
"Nobody move!" he shouted from the aft deck. It turns out the Crusader was sitting high and dry in the middle of the tide flats, balanced on her keel. The entire family was frozen in place trying to figure out what to do, fearful any move would have them rolling down onto her side. After a while, Father decided "What the heck!" He got out a rope ladder, lowered himself off the middle of the boat's stern onto the tide flat and went looking for oysters or clams or geoducks! He found a few, hauled himself back into the boat while the tide came back in and they added the shellfish to dinner! After sailing the Crusader for 5 years, the family decided it was time for a change. The Crusader was purchased from them by another family out of Tillamook, Oregon. Home of Tillamook Cheddar Cheese, the Tillamook River and great coastal winds for sailing.
The Crusader under sail in the mouth of the Tillamook River.
In 1978, Rik and Noreen brought her to Tillamook Bay and re-rigged her as a topsail gaff-rigged schooner. Much easier to sail with a small crew. The coastal winds off Tillamook, sweeping up the coast, gave the Crusader just what she needed: constant 25 knot winds to sail her properly! Five years of vigorous sailing proved enough for the Flynns to entertain the idea of passing her on to her next owner.
The Crusader sailing the Salish Sea under Jonathan White's ownership
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In 1983 Jonathan Shaw White, a "writer, sailor and surfer," as his biography describes him, saw the Crusader as the perfect companion for where he wanted to go, both geographically and professionally. From 1983 to 1995 White's Research Institute hosted thinkers and luminaries, inspiring two books by White: Talking on the Water and Tides. Visitors onboard the Crusader during those years included such luminaries as Ursula K. Le Guin, microbiologist Lynn Margulis, writers Paul Shepard, and Peter Matthiessen, conservationists Roger Payne (the first to record the songs of the humpback whale) and David Brower, activist Janet McCloud, Jungian analyst James Hillman, poet Gary Snyder, and ecologist Dolores LaChapelle. White created floating conversations with the Crusader. By 1993, the momentum slowed down and White began looking for someone to take over the mission. Or at least the boat maintenance and other costs.
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The Crusader meets the Alaskan TidesIn Deep: Why I Wanted to Learn About the Tide
Adapted from Tides: The Science and Spirit of the Ocean by Jonathan Shaw White Having grown up surfing, diving, and sailing on the Pacific coast, I always had a tide chart in my back pocket. I often consulted it to know the best time to go out. My favorite surf breaks worked better at the right tide (sometimes low and sometimes high) and certain dive locations were inaccessible when tidal currents were running strong. When I launched my first sailboat, one I had built in my early twenties in Portland, Oregon, I studied the tides carefully before crossing the Columbia River bar and heading offshore. I had never crossed the bar before, but I knew its reputation as a boat-eater if caught on the wrong tide. For most my life, watching the tide was as routine as eating or brushing my teeth. But all that changed about fifteen years ago. In my mid-twenties, I bought a 65-foot schooner, Crusader. She was slathered in orange paint and leaked about 50 gallons a day when I found her. Perfect, I thought. I cleaned her up, filled the galley with the smell of good coffee, and started a non-profit educational organization. We were based in Seattle, and each summer sailed north to Haida Gwaii and SE Alaska. We hired artists, scientists, photographers, and writers to come aboard and teach weeklong seminars. Among them were Peter Matthiessen, Robert Bly, Gary Snyder, Gretel Ehrlich, Lynn Margulis, James Hillman, and Art Wolfe. In our heyday, between 1984 and 1991, we had back-to-back seminars seven months of the year. In the late summer of 1990 we were returning from the outer coast of Chichigof Island, where anthropologist and writer Richard Nelson was teaching a seminar called “Nature, Culture and World View.” We had anchored for the night in Kalinin Bay, on the north tip of Kruzof Island. The next day we planned to sail into Sitka to finish the trip. But a gale blew up in the night. Awakened, I pulled on my rubber boots and climbed on deck to make sure everything was okay. It wasn’t. We had dragged anchor across the bay and were aground in |
the mud. With a lump in my throat, I grabbed the tide chart. If the tide was low and about to turn, I’d be in luck. The boat would re-float easily with the flood. But if the tide was high and on its way down, it’d be disastrous. With the large Alaskan tides, the water could literally disappear and leave Crusader stuck in the mud.
I read the chart five or six times in disbelief. Really? It was the worst possible timing. We were at the top of the flood, near slack water. In the next six hours, the tide would drop 12 feet. I woke the crew and within an hour we had everyone off the boat, huddling under a tarp in a very cold, stormy, Alaskan morning. Richard Nelson kept a loaded rifle on hand in case of bears. In the next six hours the boat went down like a fatally wounded animal, first to her knees, then all fours, and finally rolling onto her side. She burrowed so deeply into the mud that she didn’t want to re-float with the incoming tide. She filled with water, to the point where my crew and I were swimming inside the cabins, hopelessly trying to salvage valuables. The engine was a tractor-size red diesel. I watched the tide lap at its oil pan, imagining how, once the water was gone, I could drain the contaminated oil and refill with new. But then the tide rose over the batteries, the injectors, and finally swallowed the whole red mass. Food and books, once dry and neatly in place, swelled and floated. As the morning wore on, I watched bananas, plums, and apples float by, and rice, like herring balls, swirling near the quarter births. And books — Jesus the books! — swollen to double size, drifting here and there. I’ll never forget the titles that floated by: Ed Rickett’s Between Pacific Tides; Robert Bly’s When Sleepers Awake; Ram Dass’s How Can I Help? At one point one of our crew, Lela Hilton, managed a smile as she held up a soaked copy of Maxine Cumin’s In Deep. Crusader did eventually float with the incoming tide, and we miraculously got her back in shape to sail off on the next seminar a few day’s later. |
Over the decades, the Crusader's deck had slowly deteriorated from the pressure of the sails, masts and booms on the deck planking. She was gloriously romantic as a sailboat, as long as there was wind of at least 25 knots. Her topsail didn't come down very often, reflecting the difficulty of bending it on. The leaks were legion down below deck.
In fall of 1994, Vidar, a Norwegian friend of ours, glanced through a Wooden Boat magazine and pressed into Rich's hands. Rich found the classified ad that led us in November to Doe Bay on Orcas Island. There was the Crusader, tied up at the dock, looking glorious with her two masts towering over us and a good coat of paint on her. Two-year old Sophie wandered around the deck. I investigated the cabins and salon down below. Rich fell in love with her lines, her sturdiness and the feel of her motion beneath our feet. Our credit union soon gave us a loan and we found moorage at the Azteca marina next to Ray's Boathouse and moved onboard in January 1995.
In fall of 1994, Vidar, a Norwegian friend of ours, glanced through a Wooden Boat magazine and pressed into Rich's hands. Rich found the classified ad that led us in November to Doe Bay on Orcas Island. There was the Crusader, tied up at the dock, looking glorious with her two masts towering over us and a good coat of paint on her. Two-year old Sophie wandered around the deck. I investigated the cabins and salon down below. Rich fell in love with her lines, her sturdiness and the feel of her motion beneath our feet. Our credit union soon gave us a loan and we found moorage at the Azteca marina next to Ray's Boathouse and moved onboard in January 1995.
1995 to today, the quick story, kind of
The Azteca marina was at the mouth of the river with lots of silt in the water flowing by our slip. At low tides we could see a lot of tideland.
In 1995, before our first big dry dock, Rich was working at a fabrication place on the south side of Seattle and I was home with Sophie. As spring turned into summer, Sophie and I would sit on the side of the boat looking down into the water, watching fish swimming through the eels grass and Dungeness crabs scuttling along the bottom. It was a beautiful June. As the calendar approached the summer solstice, the tides got lower and lower. One day in mid-June, Sophie and I were down below when all of a sudden the entire boat gave a mammoth lurch and went from upright to laying over at a 45 degree angle in a matter of seconds. Things went flying off of shelves, crashing into the floor. A glass table top was smashed to smithereens by a heavy vase falling on it. I grabbed Sophie and went to the phone. (No cell phones yet. Not for another 4 years. But we had the phone company run a line from the street, down the ramp, along the docks and out to our slip.)
I called Rich at work and hysterically told him the boat had fallen on its side and was sinking. "Sinking?" Well, OK, I didn't know if we would sink at the dock but it sure felt like. I hung up, got Sophia and me off the Carnival Fun House that the Crusader had become. I walked, shaking with adrenalin, up the dock to the Azteca parking lot to wait for Rich. It took him close to an hour to drive home. By that time, the tide had come back in and the Crusader was floating like nothing had ever happened. The only evidence was the chaos onboard. And I was still shaken. We soon learned to watch the tide tables. Every time the tides were -3.5 or lower, we'd lay over. Around Christmas time this happened at midnight! Rich eventually built two huge crutches to keep us from laying over. They worked perfectly.
In 1995, before our first big dry dock, Rich was working at a fabrication place on the south side of Seattle and I was home with Sophie. As spring turned into summer, Sophie and I would sit on the side of the boat looking down into the water, watching fish swimming through the eels grass and Dungeness crabs scuttling along the bottom. It was a beautiful June. As the calendar approached the summer solstice, the tides got lower and lower. One day in mid-June, Sophie and I were down below when all of a sudden the entire boat gave a mammoth lurch and went from upright to laying over at a 45 degree angle in a matter of seconds. Things went flying off of shelves, crashing into the floor. A glass table top was smashed to smithereens by a heavy vase falling on it. I grabbed Sophie and went to the phone. (No cell phones yet. Not for another 4 years. But we had the phone company run a line from the street, down the ramp, along the docks and out to our slip.)
I called Rich at work and hysterically told him the boat had fallen on its side and was sinking. "Sinking?" Well, OK, I didn't know if we would sink at the dock but it sure felt like. I hung up, got Sophia and me off the Carnival Fun House that the Crusader had become. I walked, shaking with adrenalin, up the dock to the Azteca parking lot to wait for Rich. It took him close to an hour to drive home. By that time, the tide had come back in and the Crusader was floating like nothing had ever happened. The only evidence was the chaos onboard. And I was still shaken. We soon learned to watch the tide tables. Every time the tides were -3.5 or lower, we'd lay over. Around Christmas time this happened at midnight! Rich eventually built two huge crutches to keep us from laying over. They worked perfectly.
The First Dry Dock
July 1995 we hauled out the Crusader for what we knew would be a loooong dry dock. Maybe 4 or 5 months.
Mid-August, Zenia is conceived onboard, during the dry dock. Really?!?!? The boatyard staff and crew were amazed our little family of three was living onboard during the dry dock. And then Pamela got pregnant! Climbing up and down the ladder kept Pamela in good shape but finally the boatyard guys pressured the manager and they provided a set of stairs. Zenia was born June 2, 1996. With a newborn in arms BUT no deck on the boat, Pamela, Sophie and baby Zenia stayed with friends for the next 4 months.
MEANWHILE
At least a dozen planks were replaced.
The boat was completely refastened, to the tune of 2 large barrels of galvanized fasteners, around 5000 fasteners.
Every inch of seam was reefed and re-caulked.
80 ribs were "sistered."
The stacked gunwales were taken off (not to be replaced for decades).
Elbows were examined and repaired, the "shelf" was mostly replaced.
And that was just the beginning.
We have photos of it all. Just ask us!
Finally, in March of 1997, we launched the Crusader, and went back to our mooring spot next to Ray's Boathouse at the Azteca marina.
We stayed there until 2005 when the marina owners sold their marina to a big developer. We found moorage on Lake Union until 2007 when our Lake Union marina owners sold it to a big developer. (Is there an echo in here?) For 6 weeks we commuted from Tacoma's Crow's Nest Marina to Seattle for the girls' schools. In October 2007, we found moorage in downtown Seattle's Bell Harbor Marina. The only problem? We had to vacate every summer or pay triple our regular moorage!
Mid-August, Zenia is conceived onboard, during the dry dock. Really?!?!? The boatyard staff and crew were amazed our little family of three was living onboard during the dry dock. And then Pamela got pregnant! Climbing up and down the ladder kept Pamela in good shape but finally the boatyard guys pressured the manager and they provided a set of stairs. Zenia was born June 2, 1996. With a newborn in arms BUT no deck on the boat, Pamela, Sophie and baby Zenia stayed with friends for the next 4 months.
MEANWHILE
At least a dozen planks were replaced.
The boat was completely refastened, to the tune of 2 large barrels of galvanized fasteners, around 5000 fasteners.
Every inch of seam was reefed and re-caulked.
80 ribs were "sistered."
The stacked gunwales were taken off (not to be replaced for decades).
Elbows were examined and repaired, the "shelf" was mostly replaced.
And that was just the beginning.
We have photos of it all. Just ask us!
Finally, in March of 1997, we launched the Crusader, and went back to our mooring spot next to Ray's Boathouse at the Azteca marina.
We stayed there until 2005 when the marina owners sold their marina to a big developer. We found moorage on Lake Union until 2007 when our Lake Union marina owners sold it to a big developer. (Is there an echo in here?) For 6 weeks we commuted from Tacoma's Crow's Nest Marina to Seattle for the girls' schools. In October 2007, we found moorage in downtown Seattle's Bell Harbor Marina. The only problem? We had to vacate every summer or pay triple our regular moorage!
As long as we had to vacate our Bell Harbor slip, we figured, we might as well make good use of it. For the summers of 2008, 2009 and 2010, we dry-docked during the summers, turning the Crusader into the Zenia Sophia. The masts came down and the interior space was expanded. When we went back into the water in 2010, we decided to change her name to the Zenia Sophia, in honor of our amazing daughters who grew up on board her.
We held a full maritime ceremony, with dozens of friends in attendance who dutifully repeated the words and threw water, wine, beer and other beverages on her hull before she was launched, insuring we had Neptune's protection.
We held a full maritime ceremony, with dozens of friends in attendance who dutifully repeated the words and threw water, wine, beer and other beverages on her hull before she was launched, insuring we had Neptune's protection.
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In 2011, we found a summer sublet at the end of S Dock in Shilshole Bay Marina. Perfect! For years, we moved every June 1 to S Dock, spending summers at Shilshole and returning to Bell Harbor for the winters. In 2020, we were finally offered permanent moorage on C Dock in Shilshole where we've been ever since. Phew!
The Zenia Sophia in her Shilshole Bay Marina slip on C Dock
We love taking pictures during our dry docks, both to document our work and give us the feeling of celebration.
If you are seriously interested in seeing the boat-work we have done over the last 18 years
(when we had good digital cameras and took a LOT of photos), please do not hesitate to contact us and
we would be more than happy to show you the photos.
It has been a labor of love.
This wonderful Puget Sound boat deserves it!
We hope you have been inspired by our journey.
Some lucky, daring, water-loving will take her to the next level.
Perhaps it is you.
If you are seriously interested in seeing the boat-work we have done over the last 18 years
(when we had good digital cameras and took a LOT of photos), please do not hesitate to contact us and
we would be more than happy to show you the photos.
It has been a labor of love.
This wonderful Puget Sound boat deserves it!
We hope you have been inspired by our journey.
Some lucky, daring, water-loving will take her to the next level.
Perhaps it is you.