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What does the president of Mikelson Yachts know about
cruising in—and far around—his home port of San Diego? Everything.
By Matt Trulio — Fall 2004
The word “paradise” gets tossed as much,
and with about as much accuracy, as a Frisbee at a company picnic. That’s
because the definition of paradise is as relative as it is subjective.
Spend a little time in the Gobi desert, and anyplace slightly green—say
a thicket of poison oak or the inside of a yard-waste Dumpster—looks
like heaven. A few minutes in the vast energy-efficient freezer also known
as Antarctica, and the Gobi becomes heaven on scorched earth.
For these reasons, it is risky to listen to, much less
take suggestions from, anyone offering advice on your next cruise to “paradise.”
At the very least, the person commenting should have been a few places,
for more than a few minutes, that are generally considered paradisiacal.
And the person should know his way around a boat, for not all paradises—especially
those without basic services—are cruising paradises.
Dick Peterson, the 49-year-old president of Mikelson
Yachts in San Diego, is one of those people. Born in Portland, Oregon,
he moved with his family to San Diego when he was nine years old. Not
long after, they took their 90-foot motoryacht on a yearlong cruise around
mainland Mexico. Peterson’s father, Bob, served as captain. His
mother, Pat, home-schooled Dick and his sister, Nancy. By the time he
was 12, he had found his way into driving a boat: a 65-foot, 100-ton tugboat,
to be exact.
But wait, it gets better. Peterson didn’t go to
college after graduating high school. Instead, he went to the South Pacific—on
a 110-foot brigantine square-rigger he built and sailed with his father
and several friends. He did eventually go to the University of Redlands
in California, where he lasted all of a couple of months before leaving
for the Caribbean to open a freight business with a 160-foot, 600-ton
wooden freighter.
“We were all pretty young then—I’m
going to say I was 22 years old,” he recalls. “When we pulled
into St. Thomas, the harbormaster came out and said he needed to speak
to the captain. I said I was the captain, and he said, ‘No, really,
I need to speak to the captain.’
“The freighter thing was a hoot,” he continues, and laughs.
“We ran flour, engines, boats, and pigs. We all went broke. We went
out of business because we didn’t run … other things. Then
again, we’re still alive.”
>> Next page >>
Part 2: Something of a local treasure, Humphrey’s is
a watering hole/restaurant/outdoor concert venue that has seen its share
of big acts, including Jimmy Buffett. Page
1,
2, 3,
4, 5,
6, 7
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