Skookum Maru is a name that combines the Chinook word “skookum” meaning strong or brave, with the Japanese word “maru”, which means circle, but which is also traditionally used to mean boat or ship in boat names. Strong boat. A good name for a vessel that will take you away from the safety of land and onto the uncertain and shifting sea, where the hope of safe return relies entirely on the stoutness of her timbers, the steady beat of her engine, and her ability to keep the water out. And Skookum Maru is well named. Her varnish is applied sparingly. She has no polished brass. She has none of the glamour of a classic yacht. But she is every bit a proper little ship - a boat to trust when the wind is blowing a full gale and the green water is flying over the bow.
But on a sunny Friday in August of 2018, as we crossed from Blaine Harbor to President Channel on our first family cruise aboard, no one was thinking about the wilder nature of the sea. The wind was light, the water flat calm, the sky was clear and the Strait of Georgia stretched out north behind Vancouver Island - a smooth highway all the way to Desolation Sound if we only had time to take it. But not that day. We were on a deadline to make it to Seattle in time for a haulout on Monday, and our course lay south for Friday Harbor.
Our journey with Skookum Maru had started almost a year before that August day, during a far less comfortable voyage aboard Petrel, our converted gillnetter, in the fall of 2017. But Skookum Maru’s own journey started much earlier than that, and very much farther away.
(contd.)