Suzie

Suzie - Blake Island late fifties.

Classic wooden Puget Sound cabin cruiser.  Twenty six feet long, brightwork mahogany cabin and transom, white lead sides with a neat little port light just below the swooping break on each side.


Before Norm and Simon moved out to the lake in about sixty, Suzie lived in a mixed use moorage somewhere along Westlake Ave in Seattle.  Couple rich guys yachts, a few working class boats like Suzie, workshop under a shed on a barge, pile driver with greasy little tug lashed alongside.

Huge gray hulk laying across the outside of the pier, world war two era ocean going tug.  Jon and Justin and I scrambled all over that thing as if it were a jungle gym in the park.  I got a splinter under a nail scrambling over the dry wood rail.

Imagine the surprise finding this painting hanging on the wall in Mary Jane's house when I moved in twenty years ago. This is the dock, ship at the outside, Suzie peaking over the edge, lower left.  Echo of our voices, Justin, Jon, and me running along the dock almost reach my ear even now.

Trim little boat.  Naugahyde bench across the back of the well deck, cabin door latched open with bronze hook and eye.  Counter with hand pump sink and two burner propane stove with oven on the right.  Dinette on the left that makes down into an almost double bed sized bunk.

Spoked wheel, galvanized iron with wood handles, visibly worn on either side from kids sitting on the top of the dinette seat to see over the bow, steering with their feet.   Small chrome marine throttle, common in those days. Museum piece now.  Shift with a bronze handle on a two foot shaft secured to the bulkhead beside the wheel.  Chrysler crown engine. Six cylinder flat head gas engine under an insulated box with linoleum top.

Low doorway on the right side of the cabin led into the folks-hole, possibly as much as five foot headroom.  Two bunks in a v shape, sleepers have to share the foot area at the front of the boat.  Hand pump marine head on the left.  Tricky to remember to open a valve, maybe two before pumping; hope enough water came through to move the turd down the drain.  Turn off the valves and return to the party in the cabin as if nothing had happened.

Good sized square plywood hatch opened in the deck overhead for quick and safe access to the bow of the boat.

Slept five, two in the folks-hole and two in the dinette, one the floor, probably had an air mattress.     

Our family lived in Great Falls, Montana in those days. Vacation as soon as school let out in June.* Piled into dad's four door Pontiac, luggage rack on top, Justin and I in kid country back seat, Annah between front and back.  No belts or child seats in those days. Nostalgia is fun but those cars were dangerous as hell.

Coming into Seattle from the east we  headed up over twenty third avenue from the floating bridge out to the university district where Norm and Simon had a small nursing home on Brooklyn Ave.  East of the mountains, the countryside dried brown in summer, people watered the heck out of their yards, creating lush green all around the houses.  In Seattle, heart of the Evergreen State, nobody bothered to water and all the laws lay dry dormant.  Occasional tiny sprinkler trickling a spray, prompting Justin and me to point and mock through the open car windows.

Norm and Simon had an overnight trip in the Suzi planned.  Take Jon, Justin, and me through the locks, south past Tacoma to McNeil Island, back up Clovos passage on the west side of Vashon.


Backed out of the marina early, sleeping bags and groceries stowed neatly away, ready for adventure.  Rendezvous with the partner boat out in the lake, guy named  Geoffry.  Boat the same size as Suzie, think they had a couple teenage girls in the crew. Known for his erratic steering.  As we traveled along Geoffry could be seen way out to port one time, then later off to starboard and way behind; had to stop and wait, look and wave our arms to get his attention to avoid getting too separated.  Traveled without radio communication of any kind. 

Through the locks Simon had Jon and I on the bow lines, Justin and Norma on stern.  Still hear the sound of him shuffling from the wheel to refill his coffee pot from the hand pump sink; smell of fresh coffee out the side windows as the boats lowered to salt chuck level.

Cutting south across Elliot bay Simon kept close to the beach, stopping at a public dock somewhere along the way for lunch. Des Moines I think.   From there on down toward the Tacoma Narrows, the island laying a few miles beyond.

Jon and I curled up in the bunks under the bow just as we approached the narrows bridge from the north, woke in time to see the same view of the bridge from the south coming back up the line.  Slept through the entire trip around the island, or so we thought.

Probably slept an hour or possibly two, during which time Simon decided to turn around and head back north before it got too late. 

Measuring the distances on a chart just now, and figuring about six miles an hour average speed in the boat, we could have made it up to Bremerton that evening by about nine o'clock, which isn't as different from my memories as I thought at first.  Still light at that time in June, plenty of time for Jon and me to dip jellyfish up with the salmon landing net and get slick goo all over the float.

Remember waking to the ferry horn, the boat rolling deeply in the wake.  Heard loud voices up on the street a time or two, public dock across from a somewhat seedy part of town.

Home next day in a light northwest wind, spray flying high over the little boat as she danced along at full speed.  I thought we weathered the storm, Simon's comment, "nothing but spray."

Looking at Westlake and Queen Ann hill from the eastern shore of Lake Union

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*Not as many vacation days during the school year, last day came around the first of June.