BOAT
TL;DR
MAKE WAVES.
Crew
CAP'N JON
On tap
SAILING SURFING TUBING
Year
2025
When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. When life gives you howling squalls and a small sailboat, enter a regatta with several semi-trained strangers. Wait… what?
When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. When life gives you howling squalls and a small sailboat, enter a regatta with several semi-trained strangers. Wait… what?
Jon's a mellow, unassuming guy. He drives an old truck, drinks PBR, and works on vintage snowmobiles in a converted barn overlooking the Snoqualmie river.
It was some surprise, then, when I learned that he'd purchased a 1986 C&C Mark V sailboat - a sleek, 27' fibreglass monohull named Prima. Moored in the Everett Marina, the Prima needed a crew for the monthly race. Despite the miserable weather and a bout of the flu, Daniel and I jumped at the opportunity.
As we arrived at the slip and stepped aboard, Jon ascended the companionway to greet us. It would have been impossible to miss him - his weathered safety yellow rain overalls practically glowing despite the gloomy conditions.
Jon's a mellow, unassuming guy. He drives an old truck, drinks PBR, and works on vintage snowmobiles in a converted barn overlooking the Snoqualmie river.
It was some surprise, then, when I learned that he'd purchased a 1986 C&C Mark V sailboat - a sleek, 27' fibreglass monohull named Prima. Moored in the Everett Marina, the Prima needed a crew for the monthly race. Despite the miserable weather and a bout of the flu, Daniel and I jumped at the opportunity.
As we arrived at the slip and stepped aboard, Jon ascended the companionway to greet us. It would have been impossible to miss him - his weathered safety yellow rain overalls practically glowing despite the gloomy conditions.
With deft maneuvering via the inboard Yanmar, we pulled free of the slip and hoisted sails. Despite the rain and frigid spray, we were ready to race. We drifted to the start line, awaited the gun, and were soon underway.
That afternoon, nearly 45 years since wood and fiberglass first came together to form her hull, Prima cut through the water with surprising swiftness.
As darkness fell and the squalls calmed, we cruised past the finishing point - a dim, red light marking the edge of a rocky jetty. The faster, modern boats had long since left us in their wake, and there was no welcoming committee.
Though we didn't win (or place, or show), we'd completed the course & returned in one piece. Not a bad result in my book.
After parking the boat and battening down the hatches, we piled into a tiny inflatable dinghy - nearly sinking it under our combined weight - and headed to the marina bar for celebratory clam chowder and PBRs.
Here's to Captain Jon and the Prima. May the wind be always at your back.
With deft maneuvering via the inboard Yanmar, we pulled free of the slip and hoisted sails. Despite the rain and frigid spray, we were ready to race. We drifted to the start line, awaited the gun, and were soon underway.
That afternoon, nearly 45 years since wood and fiberglass first came together to form her hull, Prima cut through the water with surprising swiftness.
As darkness fell and the squalls calmed, we cruised past the finishing point - a dim, red light marking the edge of a rocky jetty. The faster, modern boats had long since left us in their wake, and there was no welcoming committee.
Though we didn't win (or place, or show), we'd completed the course & returned in one piece. Not a bad result in my book.
After parking the boat and battening down the hatches, we piled into a tiny inflatable dinghy - nearly sinking it under our combined weight - and headed to the marina bar for celebratory clam chowder and PBRs.
Here's to Captain Jon and the Prima. May the wind be always at your back.
