On the calm waters of Penn Cove, a boat whose broad flank is emblazoned with the name “Annabelle” did three sweeping turns before dropping anchor Thursday evening.
A small crowd pressed against the railings of the Coupeville Wharf, staring at this peculiar nexus of creature comfort and a very American kind of frontierism.
“Is that a ferry? Or a house?” they asked, scanning its two-story height, back deck jacuzzi and power boat cradle.
The answer is both, said Dennis Redmon, a 1973 Oak Harbor High School graduate. His crew (and family) were returning from a three week excursion to the San Juans and stopped in Coupeville to visit Bill Redmon, Dennis’ father.
In the early 1990s Redmon was living in a Seattle apartment in the Queen Anne neighborhood when he saw a one-line ad in the newspaper: twin diesel, auto ferry. His wife was finishing a medical program at the University of Washington and with their new financial freedom, she gave him the go-ahead to buy something.
“And that hasn’t happened since,” Redmon said.
The boat was originally constructed in 1938, and was commissioned as a 12-car ferry from Herron Island in the 1960s. It was later used for bulkhead construction, but the boat’s owner died 10 weeks after the purchase. It sat moored in Shelton for several years. When the couple laid eyes on it, their reaction was, “That’s cute.”
Since 1994 the Redmons have transformed the retired transport into a household, tearing out the open car deck, building a sewage system and installing a boiler. The walls are 8-inches thick on the side and composed of Douglas fir. The layout, not counting the bottom deck that holds the engine, is 2,350 square feet.
“She’s built like a brick,” Redmon said.
The family docked under the 11th Street Bridge in downtown Tacoma, near the Tacoma Dome, where they’ve lived for 14 years. Living in a bobbing community is sometimes a strange experience, especially for his 16-year-old daughter, Redmon said.
“When she was 13, it was kind of weird for her because none of her friends lived on a houseboat. And you don’t exactly have a neighborhood, or kids next door,” Redmon said. “But as she grew older, her friends thought it was really cool.”
There are also hazards to settling down in open water, such as overturning in strong winds and waves. One year, Redmon said the family was anchored in Penn Cove during Race Week when a storm brought ferocious winds at 50 to 60 miles per hour. Six boats sank at the breakwater. Their home didn’t have the 500-pound anchor it has today, so Redmon drove all through the night to keep it afloat.
“The spray from the waves went over the wheelhouse and I was driving pretty close to a rectangle of concrete by the old Copeland yard. With the spray and blue lights from the police boats, it was hard to see,” Redmon said. “But after that night, I could drive the boat without thinking.”
Every time there is a little sputter in the engine or a weird noise, calling a mechanic may not be an option. This is especially true when the boat is not docked. When inside, Redmon must be a captain, a repairman, an electrician and sometimes a plumber along with his general role as father and husband.
“We have a card in the bathroom that says, ‘Don’t flush anything besides toilet paper and waste’. Otherwise, I have to put on my sewer man outfit,” Redmon said.
Despite some of the lifestyle’s shortfalls, Redmon said he has grown up around the water and when he wakes up in the morning, the three windows in his bedroom give him a spectacular view of the Puget Sound.
He added that the home’s friendly look is less intimidating than many of the fiberglass, floating mansions.
“We are a magnet on the docks,” Redmon said.
At Seattle’s Seafair, the family invited the Blue Angels support crew on board and a grunge band played on the top deck until 2 a.m. (as a result the city of Tacoma set a noise ordinance for 10 p.m. on the water).
Through his binoculars, he can often see people onshore mouthing the words, “What is that?”
“It’s an attraction and we love it,” Redmon said. “It’s little house on the ferry.”
