You can't always get what you want . . .

From the Log . . .


We had a good breeze going from San Pedro to Catalina, where we arrived at about 5:00 o’clock in the afternoon. Poor old Avalon Harbor was almost deserted. There were a few boats hanging around the main pier, but only two or three on the moorings. The floats had been taken on the main fishing pier as well as the yacht club. When we were there, they took in the Tuna Club and Standard Oil floats, so that the whole town was shutting up for the winter. We went to a movie in the large movie hall that accommodates about 2,000 people and we were able to count only 12 customers.

We were the only people in the Catalina Yacht Club, but the secretary gave us every assistance that he could and was most pleasant. While we were at Catalina we painted the scuppers along with some other cleaning and cleaned the side of the boat.

Marilyn and I went up to the bird park. It is always a delight to see. Why the talking mynah birds fascinate me so much I don’t know, but they do. They have various phrases that they repeat and seem to fit them in, in the most humorous fashion. The other birds that are there are also of interest to me in their various peculiarities.

On the way up to the bird park you pass the golf links, that were almost deserted. There were two men playing golf and after they had come down on of the fairways where there are a number of fig trees, we went out and feasted on figs, which there were many spoiling. That night when we went into a bar, a man asked us how we liked the figs, and we were amazed, because he was the bartender, and had been one of the people on the golf course. It appears that you can’t do much of anything in this world, but somebody sees what you are doing.


9/24 – WNS
9/26 – Last BYC Beer Can Race
9/27 – YRA Island Tour – season closer

It’s been a busy week sailing wise. We had a great group on Xpression for last weeks WNS. I’d written a blog about beauty and hope, about balance, trying to capture my thoughts on the sail, the balance between the beauty of sailing upwind towards the sunset, and my disappointment that we couldn’t fly the spinnaker into the harbor. As I started going through the pictures Jorge posted, and combined them with some that I’d taken myself . . .
What a great sail it was! What a great group of friends! I’d started this blog with the intention of writing about last Saturday’s Island Tour – but all I can say right now is:

That’s another story.

Forget the story about balancing beauty and hope; that prose is going to languish on the hard drive for a long time. This is about friends and the balance of one’s happiness and the happiness of being with a great group of people, sharing the experience of a wonderful sail. The time will come when the wind and sea conditions are perfect for a lovely, beautiful downwind glide on a gentle breeze into the harbor with a magnificent expanse of sailcloth leading the way.

This time is for friendship. Moments captured on digital film to be shared with everyone who happens this way. The first shot that captured my attention was one that Jorge took.
There were a couple of pollywogs to this WNS stuff. We don’t cross the line on a WNS, and there is no ceremony, but the rigors of the Olympic Circle on a summer afternoon or evening is a rough enough test to separate the shellbacks from the pollywogs. A smile while at the helm for the first time, as the boat exceeds a 40 degree heel. A smile or shout of glee as a cold wave over the bow douses the victim is enough of a signal to me that a WNS pollywog has been initiated to the status of a WNS Shellback. Ramin, a project manager from the project I’m working on during the day, Joe, a Process Engineer from another project that Jorge invited (or did he invite himself? – No Matter!), and Linda, who I’d traded crewlist emails with for months, but had not sailed with me. They were all pollywogs in my book.

Linda had sent out a crewlist email that Wednesday in the hope of finding a ride with someone that night. From the grin on Linda’s face, I think she found the ride she was looking for, and I knew she was no tourist pollywog.

And Lori! A woman with a grin the size of . . . the golden gate? Lori and I had traded stories outside the clubhouse and on the docks, and I’d sailed with her for the first time the previous Saturday with Anne, Polly, and Shirley; the ladies of the Sea! This was Lori’s first time on a WNS with me. Lori was already a Shellback in my book.

Leigh had sailed with me a lot earlier in the year on the WNS events, and she was back. There was no doubt about her status. About midsummer, I’d stopped concerning myself with who would be aboard and just started letting it happen. Jorge has been on many WNS adventures with me since that epiphany.

The picture Jorge took was wonderful. Everyone bundled up in their sailing gear, the pink glow of the sky lighting up the sky behind the Berkeley Hills. Xpression was at about thirty degrees of heel at the time, with the wind on the circle about 14 kts and falling as we approached Angel Island. Waves were a medium chop, no whitecaps. It wasn’t the warmest night, but far from the cold wet dark fog and fresh breeze we encountered on Friday night – but that is yet another story.

It reminded me just how wonderful sailing on the bay with a group of friends can be (if they are friendly shellbacks that is).

The next picture that really got my attention was of Joe at the helm with Jorge and I next to him. He had never been on a sailboat before, let alone been at the helm of one. It helped that we were sailing off the wind a little bit. To ease him into the joy of guiding a sailing yacht into the sunset we gave him a short lesson (the boat can NOT tip over), then directed him to feel the heel of the boat, as Linda let the traveler down and we eased the main out. Once Joe had the feel of being in the groove down, pointing to the northern tip of Angel Island, we gave him a landmark. He brought us into the windline and we handled the boat through the tack with him at the helm. I don’t think his grin ever faltered.

Earlier, Leigh had been at the helm after we cleared the harbor, and clawed our way upwind through the circle. The wind built from a calm breeze up to a fresh breeze as we neared the X buoy. Lori took over the helm near the E buoy as we started to ease off in 18 kt winds and whitecaps. Lori’s insanely happy grin, when a ray of sunlight lit up her face – it was worth the price of admission, worth the balance of what I’d hoped to do that night, against the joy of taking out a couple of pollywogs and chasing the sun as they rose to the challenge of the initiation with gusto.

There is a beta version of Picasa 3 out, and I downloaded it when I discovered I could do screen captures directly into Picasa as jpg files. One thing I’ve wanted to do is map our adventures. I have a gps logger, but I haven’t worked out how to upload the track to a map that I can post. Bringing a Google Maps Satellite screen capture into Word, then free handing a track, that I can do! Adding text with Picasa 3, I can now provide a better idea as to where we go, and label the landmarks.

On our upwind leg we stayed on port tack, sailing at about 30 degrees off the line of the Berkeley Pier, encountering a building wind; pretty typical for a summer (or end of summer) evening sail on the circle. When Lori took the helm, we started easing off to take some pictures. We’d been heading for Pt. Blunt, with the idea to make our turn there, set the chute and follow it back to the harbor. Instead, as the track shows, we went off the wind, then put Joe on the helm and brought him up on the lighter wind behind the Island. A short starboard tack and we turned down wind for a port set. When we left the wind shadow of the Island, and encountered the stiffer breeze we drove off and passed South Hampton Shoal to our leeward. We weren’t able to carry the chute on a beam reach without broaching, so I put my hope away and considered how and when we’d douse the chute in the gathering dark. On the north side of the circle we had about 17 kts, and with Ramin in the forward hatch, and Leigh on the foredeck, there really wasn’t any way to get a hold of the chute to bring it on deck. Not wanting to go any closer to the northwest, and not wanting to risk wrapping the chute around the jib as we unfurled it, a radical move was taken to do the douse without the jib by turning up wind with the engine assisting us. With Linda on the halyard, we let the chute luff, as I drove the boat to the southwest to get it on the deck in a safe manner given the number of soft shellbacks aboard.

All’s well that ends well. I didn’t get what I wanted, but I certainly got what I needed.

In the next blog I’ll describe BYC’s last beer can race, which surprised everyone.