Tourist Sailing

From the Log . . .

The first week end, we went to Santa Barbara with them in their beautiful Chrysler station wagon and saw two football games played by UCLA and Kansas and on Saturday saw the UC and Minnesota game. /the trip was memorable for me in many respects. First of all, I can never go into the Coliseum that it does not remind me of the Olympic Games for which the Coliseum was built. Then too, I have seen many football games in the Coliseum during the succeeding years and last of all, we had about tow hours to spend and went into the Los Angeles County Museum, which is just in back of the Coliseum and houses reproductions of pre historic animals that were found in the La Brea Tar Pits.

We have all heard of those reconstructions many times, but usually, people are so busy doing things in Los Angeles, that they never go to the museum. It is well worth and hour or two anyone’s time and should be on musts on most peoples Los Angeles visiting list.

Gee, I didn't know grandfather was such a tourist. But then I'm not as smart as I look. You'd have to be quite the tourist to sail around the world.

I've puzzled over the origins of the Olympic Circle off the Berkeley Marina for some time.

I've got an email out to Rich Jepsen, and I'm sure he can supply me with an accurate account. The World Wide Web as of now is strangely silent on this subject. The closest I can get it is that there were four regional training sites in the thirties, when there must have been a huge case of Olympic Fever, and national pride. In '32 the games were held in Los Angeles, in '36, Berlin.

My earliest memories of the Olympic Circle are from racing Fireballs out of Richmond Yacht Club on the 'circle' as it's known in the Bay Area racing scene. I crewed for a lot of Fireball skippers, and spent one season sailing with Gordon Danielson, who is now a dentist in Larkspur. Back then he was a dental student, and a member of St. Francis Yacht Club.

He also made a huge impression on me, and other Fireball sailors in the '70s. He'll appear in some future blog posts. For now, after an 18 hour nearly nonstop drive from Lake Dillon Colorado (site of the 197? Fireball Nationals), he and I decided without having to talk about it, that our campaign was over. I got on a bus, he went to sleep, and next year, Paul Cayard was his crew. Gordon and Paul were made for each other :)

I was very happy to compete against them in the following year. Sometimes we crossed the finish line ahead of them, other times behind. The most exciting racing I've ever done was when we finished with seconds of them, and strangely enough who won was not as important too me as how far apart the finishes were (at least to me - Gordon and Paul may feel differently).

Back to the Oylmpic Circle. I suspect that the circle may have been upgraded after World War Two. When I started racing on it, the bouys were these big round steel balls. Sailing by the construction site of the new bay bridge span, it's now clear to me that these bouys were originally mooring balls for large ships. Given the history of ship building in the area, it would not surprise me if these bouys came from the Richmond or Sausalito shipyards.

Now that I've gotten that off my chest, I'll turn to the subject of this post. Tourist Sailing.

I was nervous all week leading up to last night's Wednesday Night Sail. Meghan (M1) agreed to be my first mate. The rest of the souls on board were tourists. One a good friend of mine from the Minneapolis area, the rest people I really didn't know. I had my Minneapolis friend wear a dinghy suit from my racing days, and a float coat that was a little to small for me. The other tourists were fitted out with the 'foul weather' gear that OCSC rents out for $5 on Wednesday nights. The 'other' tourists were friends and family of Alice, a summer intern where I sort of work when I can get my mind off of sailing.

I had taken Alice and other interns sailing earlier in the summer, and Alice walked up to me the week after and exclaimed:

"JOHN! I'm so glad to see you at lunch!"

I really didn't get much else out of the conversation that day. She was clearly excited, and I was clearly confused.

About a month later I get an email from her - can she come sailing one of these Wednesday nights and bring some friends.

Since sharing my passion for sailing is a high point in my lifestyle, I agreed. Little did I know that she was married - a summer intern, I kind of assumed she was single. She's from Taiwan, going to UCLA, and English not being her first language, our conversations have been a little confusing. Don't get me wrong, I'm worthless language wise (I'm a Mechanical Engineer by education) I'm amazed I can write, let alone master a second language other than mechanics, dynamics, software, etc. A foreign language - forget it! 7 years of Spanish, 2 years of German, so far down the drain, you'd have to use a mile long plumbers snake to even come close to where it went.

And names and faces! I meet someone and 30 seconds later I forget their names. So her friends were her husband, a girlfriend, her girlfriends husband, and another girlfriend. All from Taiwan. Alice, David, Evelyn, Stanley, and Vivian. But do NOT ask me which was which (I only remember the names from the OCSC paperwork). Alice was the only one I could keep straight. I use as an excuse that they were all wearing yellow foul weather gear. Any port in a storm, right? Good thing Meghan had her own (not yellow), and my Midwestern friend was using mine (red and white and blue).

And I was nervous. From the moment this deal was set up a week ago until we reached the upwind point in our tourist sail and headed back to the safe harbor.

I had no doubts about my ability to handle the boat, but what about the tourists ability to handle the weather conditions on the Olympic Circle on an early September evening? Tourist sailing in my mind is when I, as 'Captain' am responsible for the well being of people I don't know. What ever I might want to do sailing wise is secondary to their well being. Such as it is.

Crack off the mainsheet and level the boat? That's what you do. Head for calmer waters as soon as you can? Absolutely. Raise the main in the harbor? no matter that it is not what I usually do, I adjust my decisions with the tourists on board.

We started with the reef set. In the harbor.

Mother Nature is in charge, and I'm trying desperately to not make her mad. She can be mean. So I tiptoe around her skirts.

On the Olympic Circle, this means that it can be 29 knots of wind at 6:30 pm, with short steep chop as you leave the breakwater behind. And that's when she's in a good mood.

Leveling out the boat is a challenge. Young Arthur sent me an email today. With glee behind his words, he said:

"The experience was fantastic! When the boat was heeling I felt like I was rock climbing! I especially liked being at the helm."

The tourists were huddled in the cockpit, a mass of yellow. Spray was coming over the bow (25 feet ahead of us) and landing behind us - well, some of it anyway. I was at the helm, Meghan was trying to encourage some of the braver yellow backs to sit on the weather rail with their feet over the side. My friend behind me, arms wrapped around the aft stanchions.

The main was out, and we were footing off for all we were worth. Making for the gentle side of the circle as fast as we could. We were on the J105 JGPC, which has a heeling indicator on the side of the cabin in the front of the cockpit. It goes up to 50 degrees. The little ball was rolling around between 40 and 45. Some of the tourist eyes were fixated on it. I was going to say they shouldn't worry, it hasn't maxed out, but thought better of that. Arthur would have loved it. Several of the tourists were getting queasy.

I made for an old tug boat at anchor well to the north of the circle. It's been a fixture in this part of the bay all summer. Often down by Brooks Island, for some reason last night it was out in slightly deeper water. I set my sights on it and headed that way to give the tourists something to fix their eyes on.

"It will get better over there by the tug boat" I assure them.

It does.

We pass within spitting distance to give them something to look at and remember, then tack.

"Heading back will be much easier" I comfort them.

And of course it is. A broad reach through the waves, I can relax and play a little. Enjoy myself. I suggest that anyone who wants to go forward and enjoy the ride on the foredeck. No one goes past the mast, but several take positions on the cabin top and rail deck.

I'm feeling good, Meghan is having a blast, and we surf a little, see how far above 7 knots we can get with a small jib and reefed main.

The sun goes down and I have to encourage the tourists to look behind us.

There is no way we can flake the main properly before reaching the slip, and I encourage the tourists (and my friend who is cold) to head to the club house, Meghan and I will put the boat away. Once we get the main cleaned up and covered, she and I head up to join them, I'll finish the job after checking on their health.

I arrive in the clubroom, and they are all very excited. They've had a good time, even if one or two got a little seasick. This is a great way for Alice to share her sailing experience before she and her husband head of to Yosemite, and return to LA.

I'm happy. It went well. Not exactly a ride in a station wagon from Santa Barbara to LA, but everyone had a good time.