Ayala Sandbox

Happy New Year!

2009-12-31T18:28:00.000-08:00

I have much to be happy about.

I told Peter I wouldn't care much if I reached 1/3, i.e. if the number of times I'd gone sailing in 2009 reached one third of the number of days in the year.

That was not a lie.

When I started counting, it was just to count. There was no real object or goal.

I wanted to see what happened.

The 'Usual Suspects' happened, a group of people that I couldn't imagine in a million years. That they would become my best friends . . . through sailing, how lucky am I? That I would find them and them me through a group that Andy, Gabe, Jacky and I started on the last day of March.

And what happened was that I was at 117 before Christmas.

Peter and I took Sabina out cause I didn't like the sound of 117. It was an odd number. 118 sounded better. Thanks Peter, Thanks Sabina - he and his diva did that just for me. Cool!

I wanted to, Peter wanted to do that for me.

So we did.

Thanks Peter, for Christmas I got to go sailing 118 times in 2009.

I thought I'd go sailing with Herb on Kira on the Sat. after Christmas.

That didn't happen, oh well. But I did help him get Kira ready for his absence in January. And I got to have lunch with him at San Francisco Yacht Club, which by the way is NOT in San Francisco. It has a view of San Francisco.

So I raced with Kurt and the gang on Yellow Fin on Sunday. Now I was at 119, another odd number.

Aaron wanted to talk about the 36.7 fleet building project, I said:

"Let's talk about it while we sail".

So we did.

120 is a nice round number. 365 days divided by 3 is

121.6666 . . . .

120 is so much nicer than that.

Along the way from 117 to 120, I was worried. During the Winter Sailstice event, the comment from a lot of the members was 'How do I go sailing with you guys when the events fill up so fast?"

So we started this thing on the Got Wind and Water website where you can click a graphic and get to a discussion board and talk about when you can go sailing.

The idea was that people could

follow the discussion and decide who to call or email to work out sailing plans.

So we did.

Paul suggested a NYE sail.

So we . . .

Yeah, that's right, a wonderful thing happened. I put up a NYE event on Got Wind and Water. I put it up on Dec. 31st.

By that time Paul had made other plans, so instead of sailing, I thought I'd do something for the group.

It started as a 'RSVP so you can comment on what the site has done for you in 2009' kind of thing. If you RSVP'd, then, through the power of the MeetUp API, you could make a comment. I thought it would be a fun thing for people to do as they got ready to celebrate New Year's Eve.

I planned on going home after work and going to sleep and waking up next year.

Within 4 hours of putting this non-event event up, Bruce emailed me.

"I just got back in town, I like the idea of sailing over to the fireworks, how do I turn the non-event event into a sailing event?"

"No problem, I'll make you an assistant organizer and you can do what ever you want."

Of course I want to sail with Bruce, I mean, he's such a cool guy, how could I not go sailing with him when the opportunity presented itself?

In a matter of minutes, it was done. In a matter of hours we filled the boat.

So Bruce, a friend of his, Andy, and I signed up. These are people I've sailed with before and really like sailing with.

Cool

Then Patrica signs up. I greeted her when she went sailing with Paul on one of our events. I had her email and phone, so she's on board.

Yun signed up.

Yun has visited the site but never signed up for an event. Huh, why is he signing up for this?

I email him and find out (it will remain a mystery for now). I need his phone number, I email him mine, he calls me.

Cool.

Then Stacy signs up. Wow, I haven't seen her out for quite a while. So I call her. She wants to bring a friend.

Ok.

Now the boat is full.

We went from zero to full in about 3 hours.

2009 is a year I will never forget.

I started something that has exceeded my expectations.

I've sailed with 69 *new* friends through the Got Wind and Water website.

A weird thing happened today.

Got Wind and Water reached 121 events.

I will do my 121st sail of 2009 tonight.

No, really, that wasn't planned at all. It just happened. Really.

As the fireworks go off. I'll do my 1st sail of 2010.

Happy New Year!

Sailing at the Speed of FUN

2009-12-28T15:52:00.000-08:00

For my 119th sail of 2009, I joined Kurt and his crew on Yellow Fin to do the last Berkeley Yacht Club Chowder race of the year.

Yellow Fin is a J105 that is 'in charter' at OCSC. It's a favorite of mine. Often, the Got Wind and Water gang will charter it and enjoy a romp in the wind with the kite skipping us over the waves. Such was in fact, the 117th sail of 2009.

The 'Usual Suspects', 7 of my closest friends, all of them Got Wind and Water members, chartered the boat and worked our way up wind to Red Rock before turning the corner and reaching off to the Corte Madera Channel Marker. Sailflow uses it as a continuous feed to report wind strength and direction, and we thought it would be fun to sail by. We raised the kite and blasted off towards Paradise.

Paradise cove that is.

From there we jibed our way back to Berkeley.

On that particular day we had the perfect amount of wind, even if the sea state was less than orgasmic.

On the Sunday of the BYC chowder race, for my 119th sail of the year, we didn't think we'd have much wind to make Yellow Fin go.

We got out the race sails and bent them on.

Leaving the Berkeley Marina it looked promising. We took a moment to feel out the depth of the channel behind the middle entrance in the breakwater. It turned out that we didn't learn enough. Or perhaps we just zoned out, drunk a little too much of the fun and let it go to our heads.

The race itself was wonderful. With flat water and around 14 knots of wind, finding our way from the starting line to Olympic Circle Mark 'G' was a joyful balance of beauty. Any little adjustment made for an immediate feedback from the instruments and we worked our way past the front of the fleet. Only a trimaran was ahead of us.

Setting the kite at 'G' we reached off towards the offshore end of the Berkeley Pier ruins. There we jibed on a perfect fetch to the 'D' mark, the green #3 day mark to the north of the pier.

The wind carried us past and onward towards our objective.

A shift in direction resulted in a quick douse of the chute and a close hauled fetch to the entrance. As we neared the breakwater, we passed the tri and ignored our experience.

The boat came to a sudden and complete stop as the keel buried itself in the muck. The tri worked its way between us and the breakwater. It stopped until the crew pulled up the centerboard and it continued on its way to the finish line.

It took a little more work on our part. Perhaps a lot more work, including red lining the engine, and hanging a crew member from the boom to get us on our way out of the mud to a DNF.

Observers on the shoreline applauded our efforts, but the race committee could only wave. We were 'that close' to getting the gun, only to cross in last place.

All in all though, it was a fun ride around the race course, with gentle but firm wind and flat water, the boat traveling at the speed of fun.

Sailing at the speed of nice

2009-12-28T15:28:00.000-08:00

For my 118th sail of 2009, I sailed on Peter's Islander 27 'Sabina'.

It's a nice little vessel, just the perfect size for one or two people. The salon is open and feels spacious even if it is in fact small. Below decks on a J105 feels cramped in comparison.

While blasting along in a J105, watching the knot meter for every .1 of a knot improvement is fun with a capital F (especially with the kite up), Sabina is just nice.

We left Emeryville with the promise of little wind. Flat seas and a small amount of current set the tone of the day.

Peter wanted to practice sailing without the helm, balancing the center of effort of the jib and main so that what was left over force wise was a straight line. Once the main was up and the jib unfurled, we headed off towards the end of the ruins of the Berkeley pier and adjusted things. Eventually we got both the main and jib working together and the boat sailing straight and true. This brought us along a course that would have passed through the ruins, so we adjusted some more and got the boat to turn itself off the wind.

With everything set, we headed towards Alcatraz. Ghosting along in 3-6 knots of wind, it was a very mellow sail. We watched a small number of other boats around the bay doing much the same thing and relaxed.

We watched a sea going tug drag an old navy ship out of the South Bay and pull her through the Golden Gate under grey skies. Bound for points south to be sold for scrap it left the bay for the last time.

We motor sailed for a while then turned off the iron wind and made our way through Raccoon Straights to raise the Genniker and play with that as we made out way south again. Watching the texture of the water carefully, we stayed in a wind/tidal current zone that quickly brought us to Pt. Blunt and set us up for an easy ride under the Genniker back to the channel leading through the shallow water to the Emeryville Marina.

We were able to carry it all the way through the channel, jibe it and drop it inside the marina, a first for Sabina and a source of joy for her crew.

We then sailed the boat into the slip using the engine for stopping power alone.

Isn't sailing nice?

Merry Christmas

2009-12-25T18:47:00.001-08:00

In Tillerman's blog post on December 31st, 2008, "Random Thoughts on Number Ninety Four" he talks about setting a target and learning things as you go after the target.

I've always approached sailing with the notion that no matter what happens, I learn something from going out there. For me, sailing just changes your perspective. This changed perspective requires the sailor to think about things differently. It teaches me, every single time I go out on the water, that I don't know enough. It's a learning curve that has no top.

At the beginning of the year I did not set a target like Tillerman did in 2008.

I decided, out of frustration, that I would sail as soon as I could. I'd been chartering boats from OCSC, and darn it, they closed their doors between Christmas and New Years. I'd set aside some time off to sail then, and I could not.

I did not know anyone with a boat that wanted to go sailing then, and my options were limited.

That would change in a big way in 2009.

I did not set a target to 'beat' - I'm just not that competitive.

I decided to count.

I decided to see what would happen.

I kept a log.

On Friday, March 20th, 2009, I tried my first 'MeetUp' Sailing Event. OCSC had created a 'MeetUp' group and I was asked to be their Assistant Organizer.

It was my 23rd sail of the year.

On the last day of March, I resigned from being the Assistant Organizer of the OCSC MeetUp group and formed the Got Wind and Water Sailing Network Group. Using the MeetUp platform, I decided to see if I could network sailors together and create something that would Pay It Forward.

On April 1st, GOTWAW had it's first event.

It was my 27th sail of the year.

Yesterday I had my 118th sail of the year.

Tomorrow will be my 119th sail of the year.

Got Wind and Water has been a huge success.

Out of 385 members, 128 members have gone sailing with the group an astonishing 617 times since April 1st. There have been 120 GOTWAW events so far. There are 69 GOTWAW Photo Albums.

According to Latitude 38, about 20 sailboats and 65 sailors gathered at Ayala Cove for the Winter Sailstice. Most of the sailboats participating were boats from the Got Wind and Water Group.

Members participated in the Vallejo Race, the Sarcoma Cup, the Rolex Big Boat Series and the Jessica Cup.

So my friends, if you've been wondering where I've been, what I've been doing, well, instead of blogging about it, I've just been sailing. I'm going to try to return to Ayala Sandbox. 119 is more than enough sailing. I'm not going to stop sailing, but I am going to try to return to blogging about sailing.

I've had a Merry Christmas, one that has been full of reflection about what a lucky guy I am. I have sailed my heart out in 2009.

It will be interesting seeing just how many times I'll eventually go sailing in 2009. I'm not done yet. Between Christmas and New Years, it won't matter that OCSC will be shut down for the holidays.

I'm ready to sail, and I have the opportunity to do so.

I have a lot of friends.

We all can go sailing through the Got Wind and Water Network just about anytime we want.

One Day in November

2009-11-10T15:44:00.000-08:00

It has been a while since I last posted to this blog.

I notice I have followers

Ooops.

Maybe I should start posting again.

A tremendous amount has happened since the last post.

I plan to start to addressing that with the next post.

Pay It Forward

2009-07-12T23:39:00.000-07:00

One of the things I did as part of my 70th sail was to walk into the Oakland Yacht Club. It is next door to where Gokuraku (the Tartan 4600 I sailed on) is located.

Most yacht clubs have a tradition of displaying photographs of the past commodores. Today was the first time I'd set foot in the Oakland Yacht Club.

I'd heard that my grandfather had been the commodore of the yacht club.

There his picture was, he was commodore of the Oakland Yacht Club in 1948. It was an interesting mix of emotions for me to stand there on the staircase and seek his picture out among all those who served in that position before and after.

This blog, and my efforts in the Got Wind and Water Meetup Group are about Paying It Forward.

I can't pay him back for introducing me to sailing. He's gone. I can only Pay It Forward, by introducing others to this life long passion of mine.

Cost / Fun Ratio

2009-07-11T13:33:00.000-07:00

To Sail is to Seek.

To be a Sailor, one must have this pull to step away from all that is permanent, to cast off and exist in a world where the forces are set against each other and at no time do they completely balance each other and provide rest. Since the forces are not in balance, motion is the only constant.

Even at anchor, the vessel swings with the motions of wind and water, straining against the hook buried or caught on the bottom.

It is a world that consumes the sailor and nothing on land matters. It is a freedom from landlocked stress and concern.

There is cost associated with it. There is fun.

For the Sailor, that fun glistens like a pot of gold sitting at the end of a rainbow.

I've always been aware of the cost/fun ratio. It looms like a taskmaster, and my goal is to minimize it.

"A boat is a hole in the water into which you pour money" is the tale of woe of the typical boat owner.

The advice that "the two happiest days of a boat owner are the day they purchase the boat and the day they sell it" is prophetic to most.

I've found that the cost/fun ratio approaches zero when one becomes a member of the crew of a race boat. Unfortunately, one of the prized attributes of a race crew to the owner is willingness and loyalty. The cost/fun ratio taskmaster is cast away, only to be replaced with the owner/racer as taskmaster.

I've reached my 70th sailing day of the year. I'm dropping by JWorldsf on this day to meet with the General Manager. He and I have been trading emails and phone calls to discuss the participation of the Got Wind and Water group and J World in the Sarcoma Cup. We've yet to meet face to face, and I want to get that out of the way.

I've struggled (struggling is a cost) over the last 3 days to decide what to do on this 70th sail of the year. To sail 70 times in just a wee bit over 6 months is a lot. I set out to see what the cost/fun ratio would be like to sail 100 times in a year and I'm past the halfway mark.

You can't put a number on 'fun'. You can't put a number on 'cost', if you include the personal effort into the equation. While 'Work' can be defined in engineering units, so can 'Strain'. Certainly you can put a number on 'cash'. 'Value'? what's that? can you put a number on that?

A ratio can be thought of as a way to balance something. If cost were '1' and fun were '1', then the cost/fun ratio would be 1/1, which would equal '1' and things would balance out.

But sailing is a sport that intrinsically does not balance out.

I can put a number on the times I've sailed so far. I can't put a number on the fun I've had. I can't put a number on the cost, because the monetary cost is not the only cost. The effort, the struggle, the strain, the hours writing emails, the minutes on the phone working out the details of each and every sail . . . those things all contribute to the cost.

There are some boat owners for whom the cost associated with owning their boat, belonging to their club, finding their crew for some of the days spent sailing is infinitesimal when compared to the fun they get back.

Nat, the founder of the Beat Sarcoma effort, is, I think one of those owners. She would probably scoff at the suggestion that her boat is a hole in the water into which she pours cash. She keeps it on a trailer . . . at a very expensive Yacht Club . . . and sailed it to Hawaii with Nathan in the Pac Cup.

Cost . . . Fun?

I'm guessing she pays attention to the fun and totally ignores the cost. The cost/fun ratio is so out of balance, that it does not resemble a taskmaster. The fun genie beats the *#$%#^&* out of the cost taskmaster

But all you have to do is look at any marina on any day to figure out that Nat is a part of the 20% of boat owners who have managed to ignore the cost and focus on the fun. Otherwise, the 80% of the boats you see would be out sailing, not sitting there.

I considered three options for the 70th day:

The first was to arrange a $250 check out ride with J World, and become a member of their club, something I expect I'll do within the next month, a prerequisite for me to get their J120 - "J World" entered into the Sarcoma Cup as a Got Wind and Water entry. Why not do it . . . today?

Hmmm, wading through their website, there seem to be a host of other requirements . . . and restrictions . . . the cost/fun ratio is starting to glare at me like a task master. Where is the genie when I need him?

I've calculated the dollar cost associated with my 70 sails this year, and came up with $6.73 per sail. The other non-monetary 'costs' have at times made the cost/fun ratio resemble a task master. The fun however . . .

After the solstice weekend, it took 3 days to come off the high. The '70' picture is from that sunset spinnaker run back . . . The cost/fun ratio resembled cavorting with the genie in the bottle.

The second option was to charter a J105 from the club I pay a monthly membership fee to, get a couple of Got Wind and Water members together to share the cost, and the fun, and go talk to the General Manager at J World today - by sailing there. My cost would be minimal, would not tilt the average cost above $7 like $250 would, I'd have the boat for 23 hrs . . . I'm past all the paperwork and tests involved . . . getting Got Wind and Water members to go along is soooo easy, there really isn't much *cost* there.

With a full day charter, we could sail to the Golden Gate Bridge for the sunset and fly the chute all the way back to Berkeley at night - - - super cool. But I"m under doctor's orders to 'take it easy' for at least a week after straining a muscle in my back, so this very, very, attractive option has an element of risk associated with it.

On this 70th day, I've decided on the third option - going sailing with a member of the Got Wind and Water Group who is also a boat owner. We are not racing, we are cruising, I'll be a passenger, not really a member of the crew. This will help me follow the doctors orders. There will be zero cost for me, and the fun will be there . . . and I'll stop by the J World office, next door to where the large sailing yacht I'll be on is berthed. It is an easy, no cost, no risk option, with no hint of a taskmaster involved.

I'm not back

2009-05-30T23:43:00.000-07:00

It is May 30th and I'm not back. For some strange reason, the obsession with counting the number of times that one has gone sailing in each year has infected me like some strange disease. Tillerman reflected on his failed attempt at sailing 100 times in 2008.

In that post he described where the idea came from, an article in the laser class magazine about how top laser sailors sail at least that many days a year. He considered it a commitment.

Bah Humbug, I say. What is the point of sailing if it is a commitment?

Why do we sail? Because we are committed?

That is a strange way to look at it.

I sail because it is a taste of freedom unlike no other.

I want to taste it all the time.

It is an addiction.

During one sail, someone asked me:

"What do you do when you aren't sailing?"

"Thinking about sailing" - duh

It was from this obsession that the Got Wind and Water meetup group was born.

EVK4 has moved on to being the SF Sailing Examiner.

I've gone from writing about sailing (when I wasn't sailing) to counting how many times I've gone sailing, to just sailing as much as I can. So it's been a while since I've posted on this blog.

Since I can't sail 100% of the time, and I can't stop thinking about sailing 100% of the time, I'm focused on sharing my obsession with as many other people as I can. Not through blogging, but by getting them to go sailing with me.

I mean, why read a blog about sailing when it is so easy to just go do it.

I've been rather successful at this. It isn't even June yet and I've gone sailing 54 times this year.

And I've gotten 37 people to go sailing with me on a regular basis.

Maryam, one of the Got Wind and Water junkies, understands this. There is a picture of her at the helm of Xpression, a C&C 110, that says it all. The boat has a large wheel, but what I love about the picture is that the smile on her face can't hide behind that wheel.

Tracy, another regular among the folks sailing with me on the Got Wind and Water site has started to call me 'Captain Crack'.

I'm not back, I'm just out supplying my group of junkies with their sailing fix.

Lightship

2009-03-23T21:19:00.000-07:00

It's been about 15 years since I've done the OYRA Crewed Lightship Race. Thanks to Team Kuai, I've experienced it again. This time with the honor of trimming the chute (with someone else grinding) on the long ride back.

Kuai is a Sabre 386

Quite a different sort of ride than my experience aboard Moonshadow, an 31' flush deck ultralight that was campaigned heavily back in the 70s during the MORA craze. I was a young lad then. Back then the phrase 'sandwich and a bucket' completely defined the onboard amenities.

The bucket was used to dispose of the sandwich after it's nutritional value had been transferred to the sailor . . . well, sometimes before.

But no matter which end it came out of, capturing it in the waste bucket was essential for ocean racing. Lightweight, the bucket stayed on board, even when the engine cover was left on land for the sake of a few pounds.

As Kuai approached the Lightbucket this year, the winds lightened up. I'd been rail meat as we headed out the gate and there wasn't much need for that in the lumpy seas. Sandwiches were being offered up. I headed below an inquired if there were any Cokes on board. The lady of the boat replied:

"I think there are cold ones in the refrigerator"

"WHAT! this boat has a refrigerator?!!!" I gasped, stunned.

Whoa, I mean, I've been 'yacht racing' for a long time, but this is my first actual Yacht Race. It didn't take long to figure out that those buttons in the head had the same utility as the bucket. With much more class.

Press the button and whooosssh! The holding tank is holding just a little more.

I digress. A quality you, the reader of this blog, must be used to by now.

A debt of gratitude to Admiral Anne, who has taken mercy on this poor Captain and introduced him to actual Yacht racing.

Back to the really important stuff.

The lovely Sonya need not go to the gym this week. She got an upper body work out on Saturday that she didn't have to pay a personal trainer for.

As the crow flies, the Lightship buoy is 12.6 nautical miles from the middle of the Golden Gate Bridge. Most people think of everything West of the bridge as the ocean. Well, the real ocean is out where the Lightship buoy is. It's a long way out there when you are rail meat and anticipating the joy of a downwind ride on big waves. It's a long way back bent over a winch handle grinding for the trimmer.

"Grind, Sonya, Grind!"

"Hold"

"Testing!", "Grind!" "Hold!" "More, More, almost there, Hold!"

Rinse and repeat, repeat, repeat, All the way home.

And if by chance the helmsman and trimmer screw up, resulting in the need for 'blowing the sheet'. The grinder has a lot of sheet to haul in, inch by inch, with the boat on it's ear and the rush of water inches from her legs. With the hope that the trimmer and helm can balance the chaos before the white water reaches her waist.

For me, perched against the stern quarter as we went around the lightship, it was a lovely time.

We transferred the bitter end of the spin sheet to the weather side after the hoist, bent it around the after winch drum and I leaned back to get a better view of the luff. Warm in my foulies, with the yellow hood pulled over my hat, I was snug as a bug in a rug as a gentle rain drifted down on the fleet. We were lost in the weather and I didn't care. With a good view of the instrument cluster, I had the perfect place on the boat to enjoy the ride.

We knew land was to the east, the bridge out there somewhere ahead of us. Lost in the gray sky.

So we played with the GPS and struck a course to Pt. Bonita (it was out there somewhere) to find some favored current. Not like taking bearings and drawing lines on a chart, and staring at a compass until your eyes crossed.

It was still magical, at least for me, the beauty of the wind and waves, the reason I started this blog in the first place.

A Quick Post Before I Go

2009-03-20T11:45:00.000-07:00

This is just a quick post before I go . . . sailing, of course.

Yesterday (Thursday) was a Team Kuai practice sail in the South Bay, today is the first SFBS Meetup, a TCR event that has a sunset photo shoot tacked onto the end of it.

And tomorrow, the YRA Lightship Race on Kuai.

I'll update this post as soon as I can (perhaps Sunday?) and explain what all these events are.

Following Publicly

2009-03-17T08:23:00.000-07:00

Hey Andy and Gerry!

Thanks for publicly following my blog

I’m hoping that your example will inspire some of the lurkers to come out and follow it publicly as well. It’s all about connecting people with the love of the wind and water.

This blog started as a way for me to connect in spirit with the passion that my grandfather instilled in me for sailing.

Through that passion, Blogger, Reader, OCSC, and now SFBSG, I've begun to connect with other people who share my love of the wind and water.

If people who stumble on this don’t step forward and follow publicly, they don’t connect with me or others. They just sit in front of their computer screen and dream. They don't take the first step to getting out and doing it.

Spoke too soon

2009-03-17T07:44:00.000-07:00

Argh, I spoke too soon. I thought I'd kicked the flu bug, but it has kicked me back and I'm taking the day off from work (and sailing) to get some rest.

During my wakeful, cognizant moments, I'm online today to explore things that interest me. Ever prepared to set the laptop aside and zonk out.

I recently gave my Powershot camera to someone, and have been using my Canon D100 to take pictures while sailing. Being very careful, I'm pulling it out only when conditions are perfect and only when I'm not to busy enjoying the view myself to pause and try to capture the moment. The Powershot was not waterproof, and neither is the D100. But check this out. there is a rumor that Garmin is going to integrate a camera into the Oregon GPS model. Now that would be cool. Since I carry an Oregon with me when I sail, having a camera embedded in it would foster the ability to take pictures on the spur of the moment while sailing and post them here.

I'm hopeful that I'll find some time today to complete one goal that I started working on last night when I couldn't sleep - put a document together for the Admiral to explain what was going on during Kuai's journey around Angel Island. She was busy on the foredeck during the race, which prevented her from listening to our Owner/Captain/Helmsman/Tactian as he guided Kuai through the race.

I happened to be assigned to the Sail Trim position, which gave me a perfect position to observe everything. I've gotten about halfway through creating a document that analyzes the race from my perspective. I left my Oregon in a computer bag, so didn't have it with me to capture the GPS track, but am learning how to recreate a track in MapSource. It's not as accurate as an actual track, but it's a start.

Another thing I'll be doing today is keeping an eye on the growth of the San Francisco Bay Sailing Meetup Group. It's very interesting to watch as people join the group. Their underlying personalities are revealed by the choices they make in disclosing things about themselves as they join.

For those of you who are wondering what's happened to my efforts to transcribe my Grandfathers (B)log of his circumnavigation in the early fifties, don't worry, that effort is not on the back burner. I'm just working on getting my life into some sort of balance so I can do everything in parallel. The (B)log will return soon.

Living at the speed of Kuai

2009-03-15T13:03:00.000-07:00

My posts are becoming few and far between.

I'm finally living at the speed of life, and blogging is well . . . not living, just writing about living.

There is a marvelous video, which explains this perfectly. I would link to if I knew how. Just go here and click on the 'Why Meetup?" in the 'New to Meetup? videos box.

When I raced Olympic Tornados back as a young lad, there was this phenomena about capsizing that boat. In order for that boat to capsize, it has to slow down. You could avoid capsizing by sailing fast. If you focused on sailing fast, you were in no danger of violating the 'cloth side up, pointy end forward' rule.

That is a good thing, because to get that boat upright after a capsize was more difficult than it going further over and being cloth side down, or 'going turtle' in sailor language. Recovering from a turtle position was difficult. The only time I turned that boat over it was in the spectacular form of a cartwheel during a jibe around Pt. Blunt.

It took the Larkspur Ferry, as well as the Coast Guard to get me back up. I had a young lady in half a wet suit on board, and I suspect that I could have gotten it back up eventually, but her presence kind of attracted attention. So much attention, she distracted an entire Ferry boat. She wound up going back to the club in the company of the coasties, who encouraged her to disrobe and warm up in front of the heater . . . oh well.

I single handed the boat back from Angel Island after breaking a rudder on a rocky beach that day. Heaterless and crewless.

Enough thinking about the past, I'm in the fast lane now. I've joined Team Kaui, and am back in the saddle, fully engaged in Yacht Racing. Check out the team's home page and you'll understand the use of "Kuai" in the title of this post.

I'm also joined Meetup.com's San Francisco Bay Sailing Meetup Group

So if you don't hear for me for a while, don't worry, I've kicked the flu bug out of my body, am living large and will get back to posting when things slow down just a little bit.

Please look into Meetup.com Join and come sailing with me some time. If you do, you'll get your picture on my friends list.

More Later

2009-03-08T15:12:00.000-07:00

The Flu is still not past, but I went sailing anyway. The counter tells the tale. I made it out to kiss the coast, Sailing the Bay with CJ on a Beneteau 423 from Modern Sailing Club.

Their member winter rates can not be beat! OCSC will still me my main charter club, they, afterall, supply their boats with spinnakers.

The Beneteau was a great thing to take out to Pt. Bonita on a mild day with lots of new friends however. Threading it through a racing fleet on the cityfront as we did was a bit of a challenge. CJ timed the tidal currents with skill and after watching the fleet round the leeward mark near aquatic park, we went out the gate on the last of the Ebb, and returned with the start of the Flood, making our dinner reservations on time at the Spinnaker Restaurant.

In addition to my human virus, my laptop also got a bug, and I had to remove it's memory cells and scrub them out with an antivirus program. That has had ramifications that haven't been fully put right.

Garmin is very picky about 'unlock codes' and coupon codes and such, which I seem to have abundance, but not the ones the software is looking for. . . and they don't seem to answer the phone on the weekends. Sigh.

Otherwise, I'd have yesterday's track downloaded and up on google earth by now.

So I'll just continue to sail, and hopefully find time to blog sometime soon.

More Later

Six Weeks

2009-02-25T21:50:00.000-08:00

They say that the flu lasts for 6 weeks. I thought I had a cold, but now it looks like I have the flu. Not a bad case, just bad enough to be distracting.

I went sailing under the second full moon of the year with the Admiral, Glacier Girl, Radiation Man, and a couple (read guy and gal in love) that GG brought along.

GG started throwing up even before we walked down to the dock. She insisted that we all go sailing anyway. She did not want to dampen the evening and create a situation where her friends did not enjoy themselves.

As 'Captain', I suppose it was my responsibility to do the right thing, but I didn't know what that was. So my experience offshore kicked in. Sailing sometimes involves bile. A good sailor knows how to deal with it. There is no such thing as someone who doesn't get seasick. Just people who have yet to discover the particular conditions with their name on them that makes them turn green and hope to die.

One way to deal with it is to grab your crew mate by the ankles and prevent them from sliding overboard as the bile is directed overboard - the windward stern quarter is a good launching point as the leeward rail involves a drowning risk. I've been both the holdee and the holder. The midnight watch motoring up the coast looms large in my memory. One hand for the helm, the other for the crew mates ankles. Don't expect thanks, seeing your crew mate upright in the morning is thanks enough. If memory goes overboard, that seems to help the recovery.

Another way is the bucket. Tie a dock line to the bucket, make the crewmember as comfortable as possible in a berth below, and bring up the bucket for a quick saltwater rinse often. A sleeping bag thrown over the stricken crew, and shifting them from berth to berth as you tack . . . well, you should be so lucky to have a crewmate do that for you someday.

Funny thing though. GG recovered the next day, I've been sick ever since.

Two weeks down, Four more to go.

I'll be heading out the gate about then, I'm hoping my example will not go unnoticed should I meet the particular conditions with my name on them.

Forgive Me

2009-02-16T21:40:00.000-08:00

In my last post I said that "I'll write more when I have time".

Well, this isn't that time.

But I do feel compelled to write something, and share the mixed feelings I've had lately. As 2008 drew to a close, several sailing bloggers were sharing their feelings about the times they'd gone sailing in 2008.

100 seems to be a magical number, 36 seems to be a reasonable number.

99 bottles seems to be a great way to get Tilly back on the water (I prefer reading about his sailing to reading about iceboats and snowboats)

0 between Christmas and New Years, well that just wasn't cool at all. I fumed and fussed and tried hard not to let it get to me. I didn't want to be counting the sailing days of the year, much less the number of blog postings.

And the sailing experiences themselves? In December, they were very interesting. They were very cold, and dark. Nature Girl and I took out a J24 and double handed three times on December evenings. There was an encounter with the Larkspur ferry that nudged me into reading Chapman from cover to cover.

There were other experiences that I can't recall (which bothered me so much I started keeping a log).

There were times that made me appreciate the magic of sailing in the moonlight.

When January came, and the idea of sailing, if not in the Three Bridge Fiasco, then at least among the Fiasco Fleet caught my imagination. Preparing for it was FUN, interacting with other Sailing Bloggers was a kick. Having the weather consist of dry, warm, sunny days with Northeast, North and Northwest winds - WOW. In winter, in January, in Northern California. Then to experience all the other wind directions, without the Fog and Rain and Chop. For the Fiasco to have an East Wind, then a West Wind. Did I mention the lack of Fog and Rain and Chop? . . . WOW.

The cold, dark evenings of December were lost in the joy of those January sailing experiences.

The Full Moon on January 10th, the biggest Moon in twenty years, "Full Moon Fever" became an addiction I'm not sure I'll recover from. The chance encounter with a professional photographer and the absolutely spectacular experience of him on the foredeck, me behind wheel, setting up shot after shot of a very spectacular bridge bathed in a golden glow with a quarter moon? When the digital versions of those photos become available, there WILL be a post about that. Meanwhile, google 'McNair Evans', and be amazed.

So posting on the Blog has temporarily taken a back seat to sailing. The 2009 counter is up to an amazing 16 sails, and it's only February 16th. The last sail was on the February Full Moon, with a couple of old friends and three new ones.

Am I really counting? - well, sort of. I needed to develop a method to keep track of it all. And to keep track of all the new friends I'm making.

I can't possibly post about every experience, but with my 'log' (a spreadsheet that records the sails), I'm building up a non-volatile memory: a set of GPS tracks, as well as a 'crew list' that won't rely on just my brain. I'm working out a way to organize all this so building on these experiences will be easier. Easy enough perhaps that I can post more.

My grandfather's (B)log / Journal is waiting. I'm looking forward to building a Google Earth track of his trip, to charting his course using the Bluewater Electronic Charts, with as much detail as I can gather from his journal, then transfer them to Google Earth.

I'm probably going to move away from the triple post idea, and just post. So I'll probably start posting his journal entries with and without my comments. And I'll just post my own experiences as I find time to, without my grandfathers entries.

So take the 'Times I've Sailed in 2009" picture in the spirit I'm using it. Not so much as a counter, but as a reminder. Sailing comes first, with the beauty and friendship that is it's foundation. Posting will come along as I find the time to do it.

Forgive the unpredictable nature of this blogger. Use the Google reader, follow or subscribe to this blog and you won't miss anything - there is a lot of good stuff ahead.

A quick Blog before I go . . .

2009-02-01T10:46:00.000-08:00

A quick Blog before I go sailing . . . again.

I'll write more when I have time. The Three Bridge Fiasco Blogger Division worked out well. As a shadow (charter) boat, I was prevented from actually entering the race, but no stranger to large fleets of racing boats, I had no trouble darting in and out and through the fleet to provide a platform for Zen to take some shots.

Of course the super blogger EVK4 was our favorite target of opportunity.

And we caught Lady Bug's foredeck crew doing the dance.

Zen sums up the start nicely in 'A day at the races . . . 3BF 09'.

I think one of the coolest things about the TBF is that the fleet is HUGE and every imaginable boat type is there.

After what seemed like an hour of non stop photography, with Zen at the camera, and myself standing at the helm constantly scanning the crowd to find ways to intertwine our course with the 320+ boats that we trying very hard to go where they needed to go in light wind, Zen very graciously agreed to switch cameras (his for mine), so that I could leave the day with a full memory card of . . . memories.

There will be more later, this is just a taste.

We got some very nice shots of the quiet spinnaker action near the south tower of the Golden Gate in the light air.

P.S. - Tilly, it was shirt sleeve weather :) The Pacific Ocean starts just through that big bridge. Because the fleet consisted of double hand and single hand sailors, everyone was dressed for the worst. Later on, the air was thick with layers being tossed aside, and bare arms greeting the sun.

Three Bridge Fiasco Blogger Division – THE PLAN

2009-01-30T08:39:00.000-08:00

Zen reminded me in a comment that perhaps there should be a plan. I was so wrapped up in my own preparations for the Three Bridge Fiasco, I kind of forgot the Blogger Division.

it didn't even occur to me until just now to check out Zen's Blog. I even forgot to check out EVK4’s post. Zen, if you read this email me at cptnjhn@gmail.com - I didn't figure out until just now that your boat won't be involved.

So completely off the top of my head, at the last minute, here is the PLAN:

If you are entered in the race itself, leave a comment on this post, or on EVK4’s post that links back to a post on your blog that identifies the boat you are on and its type and sail number.

Readers can then check out the Single Handed Sailing Society’s web page and figure out your start time. They can go to the Golden Gate Yacht Club, or any other place on the city front tomorrow to cheer and jeer your start and finish.

If you are not entered in the race, but are part of the Blogger Shadow Fleet Division, leave a comment here, link back to your post that describes your intentions. Be sure to identify your boat so others can smile or curse for your camera as you sail by.

Rules:

#1 Have Fun
#2 Don’t get run over
#3 Don’t run over someone
#4 Comment here before and after so readers of this Blog can find your posts.

I haven’t figured out how to place a link in a comment, so you can find the boat I’ll be on here. Notice the fine appointments below deck. The ‘marine sanitation device’ is not shown, but it is in its own cabin (i.e. bathroom, with running water no less). There is a stereo, and an actual navigation station with lots of dials and switches. There is no internet connection, so I won’t be Blogging as I go. There is a sink with running water (if I can figure out which switch to throw). The Admiral is my crew for the event, so I expect she’ll make me wear the hat.

Have fun.

TBF Preparations (5), The Tides - A River Runs Through It

2009-01-25T17:50:00.000-08:00

“In this mix of theory and empirical experience, theory works rather well for predicting tides at ocean ports, where the rebound of the tidal wave- bouncing off the continent – is relatively uncomplicated. Inside the San Francisco Bay and Delta, experience plays a larger hand: the tide wave bounds and rebounds from crooks and islands, and shallows. It meets the flow of sixteen rivers and, all together, they play some pretty tricks.”

Kimball Livingston, Sailing the Bay, 1st edition

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(B)log . . .

None for this post, I’m setting aside the journal entries to focus on the TBF Preparations
______________________________

(B)log comments

No Comment
______________________________

My Blog . . .

My preparation for the Three Bridge Fiasco (TBF) continues.

Part of this post is about my thoughts Saturday afternoon, January 10th. The Admiral and I took some time between the sailing excursion earlier that day and a very special moonlight sail planned for that night. We hung out in the north classroom and poured over Kimball's book, Chapman, and used the white boards to diagram the different forces that cause the Tidal Flows throughout the Bay and Delta.
The Tidal Currents of SF Bay take the form of a massive and swift flowing river; one whose existence is very temporal. It comes into being, lives and dies out over the course of less than an hour.

The Flooding tidal wave meets the flow of cold water coming down from the snow capped mountains to the East, mixed with the tidal Ebb currents.

An epic battle is waged, and the warmer pacific waters drive the colder mountain water to the bottom of the straights where it continues to flow westward surrounded by a confused sea that attempts to corral it.

These warmer waters only holding sway for a few hours or minutes.

Sometimes the cold bottom flow rises up and spreads out over the surface, forming a glassy, moving spectacle of its own. In general, the upwelling is clear and cold. Except when it’s not.

In the summer, the waters flowing down from the mountains are warm and muddy and the pattern is reversed, the cooler pacific waters forced to the bottom.

Sure, understanding the motions of the Earth, Moon and Sun in relation to each other is very helpful as background information when reading what Kimball describes as the “Most Misread Book in Town”. But that book only addresses when, how much, and in which direction the flow of water through specific points is predicted to occur.

To go beyond this generality, the first time I saw this spectacle of the river running through Raccoon Straights helped me visualize the massive amount of water spilling into and out of the bay from different directions: surging along the bottom and banks of the contours of the basin and gorges that lie below the surface.

Since those contours are hidden below the surface, and only suggested by the form of the land that breaks that surface, we are left with the patterns that this flow etches on the surface as it interacts with the flow of air along it. Reading the water is a skill that comes to the sailor on San Francisco Bay slowly. It only comes through constant observation when sailing along that surface and paying attention to it.

To the vast majority of boaters, it goes by unnoticed. To the dedicated bay sailor, it is the book that is read whenever the eye scans the wind, waves and water they transit, rain or shine, sun or moonlight, fog or starlight.

How to explain this as an answer to the Admiral’s questions about the action of the Earth, Moon and Sun?

We shut down the computers, close the books, gather up everything and head for the boat to meet the Full Moon at it’s closest approach in many years. The talk is that the moon of Jan. 10th, 2009, will be 30% brighter than normal.

We'll see.

Closer to when I'm posting this, I dug out my "Tidal Current Charts - San Francisco Bay". These used to be published by NOAA and NOS. They basically gave up. Miniature versions are sometimes included in Tide Logs and Tide Booklets.

The sales sticker on the front cover of my set reads: "Jun 77 $4.00".

I bought my set over 30 years ago!

I'm scanning in the appropriate parts for the TBF. In Microsoft Word, I'm calculating the expected Currents for each segment of the TBF. Text Boxes with the calculated values are being superimposed over the 'nominal' values.

So the situation is this. The Flood starts at the start of the race.

Which way to go?

I still think it will be determined by the weather. How much wind and where it's coming from. The weather will determine how long we are out there, and when we'll be going between Red Rock and Yerba Buena.

Either way, go to the Golden Gate first.

If we have wind, the whole race will be in Flood. The chart I'm posting tells the tale.

If it's a south or west wind, and there is plenty of it, go to Yerba Buena after The Golden Gate, and ride the slight Flood up to Red Rock with the spinnaker flying. There are lots of ways to handle the building and waning flood when there is a strong south or west wind, and get back to the cityfront. Going through Raccoon Straights and hugging the shore of Angel Island is one of them, (Knox will be slack around 5 PM), and then you dash across the strong current between Alcatraz and Aquatic Park and short tack along the cityfront to get to the line.

If we don't have much wind and are likely to be pushing the time limit, then it's ride what little Flood there is to Red Rock after the Gate. This will clearly be my strategy if it's a Northerly wind.

Fight it to Yerba Buena as a downwind leg, staying East of the ship channel, and then ride the start of the Ebb to the finish line.

At 4:50 PM, Three Hours after the Max Flood, the Ebb is established along the cityfront, the 'rebound' from the South Bay is in full swing and water is flowing South to North. At 5:50 PM, it is two hours before Max Ebb, and all of the water is now heading towards the gate.

The two charts above are shown without the calculated flows.

This is all just a theory, just a best guess. I still don't know exactly how to interpret the role that declination has in creation of a 'diurnal inequality', that 'do not permit the selection of the proper chart'.

So NOA has spoken in black and white on the inside cover of the June 28, 1973 chart sleeve.

Jan. 31st has the moon just one day away from it's first quarter, and the resulting neap tide. Does this mean that the moon is in the tropic of Cancer? I'm searching Wikipedia for the answer, but it doesn't leap out at me.

Has the warm weather of January increased the icy downriver flow? Will the Ebb make itself known earlier? Will the rain over the last several days add to the snowmelt and increase the downriver flow? The flow plays tricks.

"Watch the Water" is the only way to know for sure.

The Admiral and I went sailing during the most dramatic Full Moon in many years (the 3rd sail of the year), which produced a very dramatic Tide Range, and went out again for our 4th sail during a light wind day and to compare the ripples of our wake at about 1 knot of boat speed with the ripples of the wake of Bell Buoy #2 off of Treasure Island Three Hours after the Maximum Flood with a similar flow rate.

Preparing for the TBF is a fun way to experience the vast number of things that a serious sailor must understand and react to in order to get the most out of Sailing The Bay.

TBF Preparations (4) - Weather . . . Again?

2009-01-25T13:41:00.000-08:00

“As the system passes, winds shift to the north or west, again with considerable velocity.“

Kimball Livingston, Sailing the Bay, 1st edition
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(B)log . . .

None for this post, I’m setting aside the journal entries to focus on the TBF Preparations

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(B)log comments

No Comment

______________________________

My Blog . . .

My preparation for the Three Bridge Fiasco (TBF) continues.

Still focused on the weather. Yes, Edward, the tides are important, and I’ll be posting on that soon, but the tides rise and fall in cycles, and the weather is much, much, more unpredictable.

Today we are smack dab between Low Pressure to the East and High Pressure to the West, with lots of moisture in the air, and cold (the wet cold) temperatures.

It will be very interesting if the High Pressure moves to the East of us by next Saturday. We’ll have the warm Northeasterly flow that we had two weeks ago.

Right now we have a more typical Westerly.

TBF Preparations (3) - Computer Hard Drive Upgrade

2009-01-25T12:40:00.000-08:00

“SET OUT ONE CLEAR eve for a sail west, with a westerly breeze to stir the sails and the downtown towers flashing gold astern. Let the gentlest of chop lick the leeward rail.“

Kimball Livingston, Sailing the Bay, 1st edition

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(B)log . . .

None for this post, I’m setting aside the journal entries to focus on the TBF Preparations
______________________________

(B)log comments

No Comment
______________________________

My Blog . . .

My preparation for the Three Bridge Fiasco (TBF) continues.

One of those preparations is to upgrade the hard drive on my laptop from 88 Gigs to 298 Gigs. I got a copy of EZ GIG II and bought a Western Digital 320 Gig drive (you never get all the Gigs on the box).

I was down to 2 Gigs with the old drive and had a 100 Gig external drive full up, with backed up files and other files I'd moved off to make room. It was getting to be a hassle. There are about 27 tiny screws on my Sony Vaio 17" laptop (it has a sweet screen), and once you get ready to pop the top, you have to pry it off of the 'snaps' under the hinge for the screen. Talk about terror! I have visions of cracking the case every time I do this.

The worst is over, I now have about 200 Gigs of free space, and only about 60 Gigs of files to transfer onto the new drive from various external hard drives - once I figure out what files are duplicated. For some reason, they are coming over very, very slowly from what appears to be a USB 1.0 bottleneck. I know I have 2.0, but have all day and am not inclined to figure it out.

I'm going to spend this slow time on a slow day to bask in the glow of not cracking the case and having excess bytes to fill.

I have several posts in DOC files to get up on the blog, and some more TBF prep work to do.

I've made a lot of progress on my reading, as the Excel Graph now shows, I've read ALL of EVK4, and Sailing the Bay with CJ. Tilly will get his turn soon. Reader will keep me up to date on an ongoing basis from now on with the first two. I'm also up to chapter 23 of Chapman, Marlinspike Seamanship. 795 pages out of 928!

When I get all the files transferred, I'm going to download Google Earth, install MapSource, and finish my post(s) on the Tides.

TBF Preparations (2) - Wind and Weather

2009-01-20T22:24:00.000-08:00

“Our most variable season is winter – not the calendar winter, but the months from November through February“

Kimball Livingston, Sailing the Bay, 1st edition

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(B)log . . .

None for this post, I’m setting aside the journal entries to focus on the TBF Preparations
______________________________

(B)log comments

No Comment
______________________________

My Blog . . .

My preparation for the Three Bridge Fiasco (TBF) continues.

To understand the TBF, check out EVK4's post on the subject.

I went to bed (Jan. 12th) with the howl of the Northeast wind threatening to dislodge my son’s Dish Network hardware from the corner of the roof just above my head. I went to sleep dreaming that it took the corner of the roof off, just like those Midwest videos of Tornados ripping houses apart. I’ll welcome the next earthquake, as long as I wake up to a house with a roof over my head. Even if the books that were on my shelves are now on my floor.

This morning I awoke with a roof over my head. The KTVU newscast came on when I turned the TV on, so I guess the dish is still on the roof, pointed in the same direction.

I like KTVU. The station is next to the water, so the roof top cameras show the weather on the bay. Nice. Very nice since it’s January and the temps are forecast to be in the 70’s (who can go sailing with me?).

And, it’s going to stay that way for the rest of the week.

So I updated the links on my BLOG homepage to get my readers to the surface analysis website and also to the SJSU Real Time Streaklines Animation.

As I drove to work, I paid special attention to the direction the flags were flying, and the trees were bending.

High pressure areas have clockwise airflows, they counter rotate relative to storm systems, which rotate around low pressure areas.

Today we have an oblong double high over the far Northern California and Nevada areas. KTVU says the weather will be dominated by the high pressure systems for at least the next 10 days.

This is winter in Northern California, in the shadow of the weather systems, highs and lows, that pass to the north, or right overhead. Or sometimes roar down from the gulf of Alaska, following the coastline until they surprise Hollywood with some natural drama.

But today as I write this (Jan 13th), there is a tight grouping of isobar lines on the southwest side of this oblong. Draw an arrow perpendicular to these lines, and it points straight at San Francisco Bay. Mother Nature has her own way of playing Cupid. That arrow delivers warm weather – and lots of warm wind.

I guess it’s her way of playing nice after a month of seasonal temperatures.

There is a low pressure trough hugging the coast line, creating a trench for the warm, high pressure air to slip over the edge of that trench and try to fill the relative vacuum of the low pressure.

This trough is shown on the charts as a dotted line.

That is the story that the surface analysis tells; the explanation for God’s distaste for the Dish.

Further out, there is a low pressure system shown as a tight grouping of concentric isobars. Between that and us is a grouping of smaller low pressure systems backed up between 135W and 165W, with two of them tucked into the Gulf of Alaska.

It’s now Jan. 20th. We’ve been blessed by warm weather and though the winds have been light, there have been some spectacular (for winter!) sailing days. Charlie Bergstedt’s Blog is a fantastic record of this weather as the low pressure systems have sorted themselves out, but haven’t pushed the High pressure Eastward . . . yet.

His pictures of yesterday's sunset tell the tale - an approaching line of clouds makes for a brilliant sunset, and signals the approach of a cold front.

The surface analysis now shows a series of weather systems lined up like impatient crowds at an inauguration on a cold day in DC, waiting for the speeches to begin, then waiting for them to end, then waiting for the trains to get them out of there.

The TBF is now about 11 days away. Today’s Intellicast Mixed Surface Analysis image shows the approaching cloud cover pushed up against the trough that hugs the coast line. There is an informational page associated with it that explains what the symbols mean. There is a series of large cold fronts with very short warm fronts associated with each of these weather systems stacked up across the Pacific.

What I’m looking and hoping for is an Occluded Cyclone to develop – a warm front ahead of a cold front, poised off of the bay area the day of the TBF. Should that happen, we can expect a warm South Wind to prevail, creating a long spinnaker run from Yerba Buena Island to Red Rock.

Hope springs eternal.

As each of the low pressure systems approach, I’ll start keeping track of whether they form such a system, how long they take to get here, and how wide they are. This will help estimate just what sort of weather we’ll have 11 days from now.

I’ll pay particular attention to the streakline images associated with the different phases of the approaching low pressure systems.

They talk about a ‘storm door’ opening to let these systems flow on shore.

We’ll see.

Sailing Against the Wind

2009-01-18T12:10:00.000-08:00

“An all too frequent expectation is that the tide will turn first in the middle of the Bay. Instead, whether the tide is high or low, the first fingers of the new tide currents will form in a narrow ribbon along the San Francisco city front; later, similar thin bands of current will form along the Marin shore.“

Kimball Livingston, Sailing the Bay, 1st edition
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(B)log . . .

On Sunday the 22nd of November we were off at dawn for our beat up the channel up into La Paz Bay. The fishing boat that had anchored near us during the night had preceded us by about fifteen minutes and stood our into the Gulf, apparently for a a days fishing. We had our motor on, went past Point Pedrico and close to a point that is know as La Ventana. From there we got the full force of the northerly blow that had been stirring up the waters of the gulf for days. The seas were only about eight or ten feet hight, but they were extremely close together and were extremely rough* rough in character. When the bow of the boat would break through one into another, she would come to a shuddering stop. We would have to fall off the wind, then get up our speed and do it all over again. We kept the motor running all day for it was only by this means that we cold make any headway at all.
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(B)log comments

I have, of course, typed ahead, but am only placing this morsel in front of my readers. Balancing all that I want to write about is not easy. In future posts, I’ll chart my Grandfathers passage northward to La Paz, and his entry into that harbor (with charts! – I can’t wait!). The Journal is now getting very descriptive of he sailing and the condition of the water and coastline and sailing from one place to another, with islands, and rocks and harbors, and mmmmm . . .

Sailing is about balance, and sometimes not quite getting that balance right. When the balance is off, you don’t make much headway.
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My Blog . . .

Kimball writes about the tide, Dr. Holcomb is writing about the wind. My second sail in 2009 was about both, and new acquaintances.

My mind has been on racing of late, on the TBF in particular. OCSC does, or has done, timed circuit racing in J105s in the past. I fully intend to rally the Admiral, grab some crew and participate in this in the future.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

A crewlist notice appeared early in Jan:

"Happy New Year,

My friends and I are looking for 2-3 sailors to join us for a spinnaker sail on a J105 on Saturday, Jan 10. Crew size will be 4 (or 5 max). We'll sail 9-3ish (early stop due to Saturday's low minus tide). We'll eat lunch on board between sets. We can accommodate a range of experience levels, but are looking for a solid commitment for the day. "

Oh boy! That sounds like the group that does timed circuit racing!

I quickly responded and got on the crew. I let the Admiral know, and she got on the crew as well, Nature Girl signed on, and we all anticipated a great experience. I crossed my fingers that I could talk the group into allowing me to be ‘Skipper of Record’ on one of the boats, and take it out again that night for a moonlight sail.

It turned out that I had to keep my fingers crossed up until Sat. morning. The organizer of the group didn’t think it was ok, and I didn’t know until I met the fellow who was going to skipper the boat the Admiral and I were assigned to. Nature Girl was assigned to the other boat.

That fellow was Mr. G.

A German born gentleman, with the emphasis on Gentle. He’s been an OCSC member for more then 20 years, and the rest of the crew consisted of a group of friends who’ve been sailing for years. The Admiral and I were newcomers.

Speaking of the Admiral, she’d driven down from Redding that morning, and didn’t arrive until 10:15 am, about 20 minutes after the first boat, Tenacity (Y- in the fleet lettering system) with the Organizer and Nature Girl, had already departed. Mr. G was very cool about it; was in fact, quite understanding. Both about her tardiness, and my desire to do the moonlight sail that evening.

I could relax my fingers.

The group on board The Four ‘C’s (R – in the fleet lettering system), the J105 we were taking out, was one of the nicest collection of sailors I’ve had the privilege to enjoy a day on the water with.

We headed out and motored for a little while to get to a steady wind that enabled us to set the sails and chase Tenacity under sail. Some sailors would get very completive and motor right up to the other boat before sailing with them.

Mr. G, did the classy thing. Motored to within about a half a mile astern, set sail and then tried to catch up under wind power alone.

Tenacity headed northwest under spinnaker and we followed, but stayed to leeward in the ship channel, to enjoy some of the (very) last flood. The very light wind was coming from almost due north.

Some calls were made, and both boats decided to try to reach some steadier wind in the central bay.

This, incidentally, placed us ahead of Tenacity. So we confidently sailed into a hole that should not have been there, and ate some humble pie. We thought we’d beat Tenacity around the Island if we stayed to the East of Angel Island and caught the beginning of the ebb in the ship channel. How a hole would occur on the North East corner of Angel Island with a North wind, was counter intuitive, but important to remember.

We abandoned our well laid (but foolish) plans, and in the face of reality, jibed over and headed into Raccoon straits, having completely given up our advantage.

We were once again chasing Tenacity’s tail.

Then Tenacity sailed into a hole of their own near Point Knox and we caught up to them and passed them.

I’m a bit new to this idea of racing, but not racing. Catching up and passing, then having the ‘race’ course change at the whim of the other boat. They were down wind (we now had a southeasterly) and behind, so they just headed west towards the Golden Gate Bridge.

Now we were behind.

So we followed the leader, and sailed right out into a 6 knot ebb under the gate with about 9 knots of wind, coming at this time from the North East. We dropped the chute and started sailing against both the wind and the tide.

There is a saying in San Francisco.

“So the photographer’s all chipped in . . . and built a bridge”

Pretty apt.

It’s January 10th, we’ve got a WARM North East wind, and we are sailing under the Golden Gate Bridge in a J105 in our shirt sleeves.

Taking pictures.

Tilly, are you thinking the Left Coast is the Right Coast?

It is in January. You can go sailing in shirtsleeves, touch the Pacific Ocean, get up a little early and be skiing at 9000 ft the next morning before lunch.

So we turned around at the tide rip next to the South Tower (a sure sign that you’ve got early Flood on the city front).

We sailed upwind to Blackhaller, then short tacked the city front in the opposite direction from that which it is famous for.

I’m updating this, but left my external hard drive at work, so I don’t have the chart to show it. (groan) – I’ll come back tomorrow to this post and put up the chart.

San Francisco, and the St. Francis Yacht Club in particular, is very well known in racing circles for weather legs of courses that involve short tacking up the city front. You tack every 100 yards or so, and try to be the boat that goes closest to the shore.

The narrow ribbon of new tide currents start several hours before the ‘slack water’ that is shown on current charts. In particular is the situation where there is a 6 knot flood tide in the shipping channels, and a hundred yards of early ebb traveling up along the shore from Fort Mason past the Golden Gate Yacht club, then St. Francis, then Crissy Field, to escape through the shallows that exist between Fort Point and the south tower of the Golden Gate bridge.

When the ebb is running at it’s max flow, there is a narrow ribbon of flood, and a yacht race that has Blackhaller as it’s final weather mark and St. Francis as it’s finish line will have a spectacular parade of boats with spinnakers flying as they vie for the closest track along the shore.

On this day, we had the unusual East wind, with a strong Ebb tide. So we headed for shore and short tacked from West to East to stay in the early flood. Just to demonstrate how strong the Ebb was, we ventured outward from the shore at he A-B marks off of St. Francis Yacht Club. The GPS track showed that we made no headway in the light wind. Retreating back to the shore, we continued our way Eastward.

I've just started using Google Earth and imported the Garmin Track to it.

East of the yacht clubs is a region where there is a shelf about 20 feet below the low tide level. This sandy shelf extends about 10 yards off the rocks of the breakwater. It results in a situation where your shoreward tack is within one boat length of water breaking on the rocks. It’s exciting as you come in and tack smartly this close to the breakwater. You watch the depth gage and see the depth jump up from 40 to 35 to 30 to . . . 20! And TACK! Quickly!

In a race, everyone knows this and when it looks like the inward boat is right on top of the rocks, everyone tacks to give that boat room to avoid going up on the rocks. And every outward boat knows that the next shoreward boat just gained several boat lengths on them in the race as they tack back outward to give that boat room and are themselves forced into the current.

One Kayak after another passed us and we realized that a race of the paddling sort was underway. The kayakers themselves were sticking to a few yards off the rocks to stay in the favorable current. Their turning mark was positioned just off of Fort Mason. So by giving way here and there, we managed to avoid getting in their way, at least most of the time. We had to perform a weird maneuver when we found ourselves at their mark at the same time several kayaker’s were rounding it.

We made our way against the wind. The most extreme tidal range (-1.9) was going to close the Berkeley Marina to us if we didn’t get back there before 3:30 pm. So after making our way up to Aquatic Park, we began motor sailing across the shipping channel and into the tide cone of Alcatraz. We eventual lowered the sails and got back just after 3:30, with all eyes on the depth gauge as we passed through the breakwater.

A nice after sail get together in the club room included setting up the computer and downloading photos to share. The crews of both boats exchanged the thoughts that propelled them to make their course choices, and some understanding of the whimsy was shared by all.

What Price Freedom?

2009-01-13T14:25:00.000-08:00

$30/month

Seems I had unlimited data service on my ATT phone.

There was a tidbit fed to me as I nodded my head and agreed to the $30 unlimitied data service: that I could use my new phone as a modem for my laptop?

Well, that was something I filed away for future reference a year ago. I took it out today, dusted it off, and called ATT.

I wanted to thrust off the chains that bound me to the corporate giant that issues me a paycheck (and the scrutiny of their IT goons). So I discovered that for (only) $30 a month in addition to the unknown cost of my existing unlimited data plan, I could in fact download some software, sign up (ATT was more than willing given that it will net them $360 this year alone), and transmit and receive.

This blog now comes to you from my mind to my fingertips, through the keys of my very personal laptop and courtesy of the USB Bus, through my phone and thence, to the world.

Provided I pay my monthly bill on time.

Captain John

Chapman and Charts

2009-01-11T22:10:00.000-08:00

(B)log . . .

I was hopeful that the northerly wind that had been blowing all day would abate somewhat during the night and we would have an easy day to beat up the last 45 miles to LaPaz. I awoke several times during the night as the wind was blowing through the rigging, so that you could hear it below. It did not sound very good. A fishing boat came into the bay from the sea and anchored about 200 yards from us. They seemed to be very heavily laden and I wondered what they were not on their way back to San Deigo. it was a very large tuna clipper and she was so heavily laden that her bow was almost down to the anchor chocks and her stern fishing platforms were at a leveal with the water.
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(B)log comments

Hmmm, what is a tuna clipper? That is why the internet is so cool. From your seat infront of a computer screen, you can find the answers to such questions.

When I started this effort, I knew that somewhere, there would be sections of the journal that described sailing along coast. That would connect memories with reality.

A memory I have from my childhood is one of the crew of Landfall II saying to another:

“Yeah, skipper is really something alright, one night I was on watch on the helm, offshore, watching a meteor shower, and he seemed to come out of nowhere!”

“Why are you off course! - he shouted at me.”

“I was dumbfounded, felt pretty stupid, I looked at the binnacle and sure enough, I was 10 degrees off – how in the blazes did he know that?”

“I snuck into his cabin a couple of nights later, there was no compass there!”

“He’s something alright; he just seems to know the compass heading, even if he isn’t looking at it!”

Chapman, in the chapter on the compass, describes a style of compass that is recommended to be mounted over the skipper’s bunk. But there was never such a device on Landfall. I figured out later that he was super observant. He’d pay attention to everything. The wind direction, the wave direction, even the loading of a Tuna Clipper anchoring in the same cove in the middle of the night. The port of call of said Clipper. All of these observations would be worked out in his head and assembled to give him a sort of weird ability to know stuff the crew was clueless about.

I’ve learned for example, how to sail with my ears.

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My Blog . . .

I’ve gotten to chapter 16 of Chapman, the chapter on charts, their symbols, abbreviations, shading, and a host of other chart related subjects.

As I’ve said before, somewhere in my garage is an old, rolled up sailing chart of the pacific. Marked on that chart are the noon sightings of the outward bound leg of my grandfather’s 1937 voyage. I went to West Marine and purchased a chart case. When I find that old chart, I'm going to take better care of it.

The last few posts from the journal are the stuff I needed to chart his course on this trip. This time on an electronic chart. I don’t have the noon sights, but the coastwise piloting . . . my decision to read Chapman cover to cover is paying off.

I’ve gotten to Feb, 2008 in EVK4’s blog. My Tillerman blog reading effort is way behind at Feb of 2006.

But I’ll catch up.

I got an email from a friend, I’ll call ‘Crewless?’ I met her at OCSC one day last year in May. She was standing at the head of the gangway to the piers wearing a T-Shirt that read “I want to CREW for YOU” She joined us for last years Summer Solstice Sail on Knot’s Sq’d. We left around 9 am, and got back at 2 am. She lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico, went sailing with Carol Anne. Once I’m done with Cheryl's then Tilly’s blog, Carol Anne’s is next on my list of catch up.

TBF Preparations (1)

2009-01-11T21:53:00.000-08:00

(B)log . . .

None for this post
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(B)log comments

None for this post either - Throughout Jan, I'll be posting a lot re: the TBF Preparations. Typicaly I'll number these and not post an entry from the (B)Log, My Grandfathers 1953 Circumnavigation Journal.
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My Blog . . .

My preparation for the Three Bridge Fiasco (TBF) has been officially kicked off. I’ve finished chapter 16, the Chapter on Charts, of the 65th edition of Chapman, and I’m on to my next reading challenges.

Carol Anne got bumped. Tilly is going to have to take a back seat. I’ve got some serious reading to do. Chapter 17 is Piloting, and the 3BF is a piloting challenge. The crazy 70’s, when dinghy racing on the bay was at its peak, was all about local knowledge. Towards the end of that decade, dinghy sailors were being recruited to become crew on Maxi racers in the Big Boat Series. When you were short tacking up the city front, reaching across to Harding Rock, jibing around that corner of the universe and blasting over to Aquatic Park, the intimate knowledge the dingy sailor got from going over, around, through and often under waves was some kind of wonderful. Owners of maxis wanted those rock stars on their decks and in their cockpits.

The Star and 505 scene was the center of that world. Kimball Livingston, at the time a newspaper reporter, wrote about that world. His book, Sailing the Bay, is in my mind, the ultimate story of local knowledge. I bought the second edition last year, gave it to somebody, then forgot about it. The first edition has a prominent place on my bookshelf. So I’m attempting to memorize that first edition. But I get lost in the imagery, which is not such a bad thing, it’s just terribly distracting. My coworkers and team mates on the project that pays my bills are wondering where in the world John has wandered off to.

Where was I? - oh yes, Amazon.com. I’ve ordered another copy of the 2nd Edition of Kimball’s book. Paid more for shipping than the book itself (I just had to get it as soon as I can). My recollection is that the second edition is a little drier than the first, perhaps I’ll be able to focus a little more. Unlikely, but I’m often delusional, so what?

While I was finding a copy of Kimball’s book, I also added his blog to my reader subscription list. And I found myself back on a blog by Cheryl which borrows from the title of Kimball’s book.

Both Cheryl (a Google Goddess) and Kimball are professional writers. Any resemblance that EVK4, Tilly or I have to these people is limited to recognition by people wearing sunglasses at night. Cheryl's blog has now taken a prominent position in my reader chart, hers is the third column. She started writing in Aug. of 2007, so there is less to read, but it's that good that she's just behind EVK4.

So I have a LOT of reading to do between now and Saturday, when the Admiral and I find ourselves in the same boat again. I think I’ll call in sick on Friday.

OH NO! did I just write that on my work laptop?

Dang!

Ok, so at the Admiral’s request, here are the important things for find in Kimball’s book for the local knowledge to play the TBF correctly:

His account of the role that winter storms play in the bay area, where they come from, how they form, what their cycles are. Choosing the course is all about what weather is passing over the bay area that day.

If that day is between storms, then Tidal Currents will be the determining factor for the course. The first edition has a fantastic set of time lapse pictures of the Bay Model during a confetti test. One picture for Max Flood, the other for Max Ebb. The Max Ebb shot clearly shows the South Bay Surge that creates a tide current shadow north of Treasure Island.

My recollection is that the second edition substituted a discussion of Tide Current Software models for the confetti test pictures. Too bad if that’s true, the confetti test was cool.

Sailing the Bay

2009-01-09T15:50:00.000-08:00

“Our most variable season is winter – not the calendar winter, but the months from November through February“

Kimball Livingston, Sailing the Bay, 1st edition
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(B)log . . .

None for this post
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(B)log comments

None for this post either
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My Blog . . .

I’m not holding hard and fast to the idea of having every post include a (B)log or (B)log comments entry.

Sailing requires many things. Flexibility is one of them. Now that I have my (B)log entries list set up in the sidebar, anyone who wants to navigate that entry list can do it easily. I need to pause a moment and address the TBF preparations.

The first preparation was to dust off my copy of Kimball Livingston’s work, Sailing the Bay

I used to have a copy of the 2nd edition, but alas, I loaned it to someone and forgot who (I do that a lot). But I still have my copy of the 1st edition, and now that I’m blogging about sailing the bay, I realize that I’ll need to guard that copy with my life. The 2nd edition? Last I checked (today) West Marine had one dog eared copy left. Email Me and I’ll tell you which store. It has my fingerprints on it.

The 1st edition is a treasure (and no, not the treasure referred to in my last post). I don’t think Kimball will mind if I quote from that book. I’ve been opening the book randomly for the last few weeks, and today I went to the front and was a little stunned to recall the foreword by Tom Blackaller.

To quote Tom:

“Without a doubt, San Francisco Bay is the most exciting place in the world to sail. The consistent velocity of the wind, the trickiness of the currents, the fickleness of the fog all combine to offer real challenges to any sailor. Kim Livingston attempts to solve these problems and to make sailing on the Bay more enjoyable for everybody by explaining why they happen and how they happen.”

It is no coincidence that one of the TBF marks is named after Tom.

This is a good place to start one’s preparations. Tom does not mention the fickleness of a winter season on the bay. Perhaps because if you pay attention to what Kim says in the section on the Bay’s winter season, you’ll recognize why and how that weather is what it is, when it is.

So my next step was to put a link on my Blog to the Surface Analysis page of the National Weather Service.

After tomorrows romp with the J105 group, we’ll be going over how to use surface analysis in conjunction with Kim’s thoughtful explanations and begin to answer the question:

“Which way to we go?”

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Special Thanks to CJ

1st Annual Pirate Rendezvous, Roust and Rescue

2009-01-09T08:57:00.000-08:00

Captain John

hereby announces

My intention to indulge a fantasy, go over to the Dark Side, become a Pirate, kidnap a Blogger Sailorwoman, or Blogger Reader (or her offspring), abscond with the victim to a Deserted Island, and challenge the other Sailing Bloggers to rescue said maiden. Or at least alert others to her whereabouts.

Whew, that's a lot to do in a day, but my desire is strong.

This event will be in the form of a contest, Rules and Regulations* have been established.

There is a particular deserted Island on San Francisco Bay that looms large in my memory. I don’t remember what age I was when I first laid eyes on it. My mother would tell tales about exploring it when she was a child. There are caves on this island, and the stories revolved around her father telling her that there were skeletons in the caves. She would confess that she did not have the courage to enter those caves.

Other tales relate a dismasting that occurred during a Vallejo Race my grandfather was in. Landfall II jibed near the island, and her main boom carried away the rig of another yacht that was to windward before the jibe (Tilly, do you know which rule applies here?).

As a child I witnessed the strangest Man Over Board (MOB) I’d ever seen. This event occurred as we were anchoring (under sail!) in the cove of this island. Chapman covers anchoring under sail, but the way my grandfather did it was not mentioned.

This cove is very difficult to sail into. The island in question is small, and smack in the middle of deep channels which pass it on either side. The tidal and river currents are treacherous. Please pay close attention to the current conditions if you foolishly take up my challenge.

We approached the cove (which is very small) on a downwind run. Jibed and rounded up to drop the anchor while in irons in the cove, which was on that day, in the lee of the Island during a Flood tide

The individual disappeared from the deck and reappeared miraculously soaking wet and shaking back on deck in the same spot. He’d been standing in the wrong place at the wrong time when the jibe started. Positioned on the windward quarter before the jibe started, he made a split second decision to avoid being killed by the boom, jumping over board. He grabbed the mainsheet when he was in the water.

As the main went all the way out, the mainsheet went from slack to ramrod straight and catapulted him back on deck. He landed on his feet exactly where he was standing before.

This happened over the course of about five seconds.

The slack jawed expressions on the crew members who witnessed this resulted in other crewmembers turning their heads at the splash, too late to see what happened.

”What the . . . ? How did you get wet?”

The poor victim was speechless. He had to be taken below as the witnesses tried to convince those whose attention was focused on anchoring and taking in the sails as to the fact of the matter. It wasn’t easy.

I attempted a landing on this island in my third Tornado in the 80’s. It was a beater, and I’d gotten it just to introduce my young kids to the joy of sailing a very fast craft.

I’d always wanted to explore the island and go into the caves my mother talked about. My two oldest kids were with me that day (ages 7 and 5) and I chickened out when one of my rudder fittings broke during the landing. It was a foolhardy attempt.

I’m older now, not necessarily wiser, and I want to go back. It’s a line item on my bucket list to see if there really are skeletons in those caves.

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*Rules and Regulations

Ha! You fell for that drivel? THERE ARE NO RULES! I’m a Pirate! You thought there would be rules? You fool, if you fell for that you aren’t very likely to find the maiden.

There will be clues however- I think "Clues not Rules" is part of the Pirate Creed or something like that.

Prizes? Hah!, who needs wimpy prizes when treasure is involved!

At the very least, the honor of a maiden is at stake. What heroic sailing blogger could refuse such a challenge?

If you've guessed that my intention is to send the maiden into the cave first to check out whether there really are skeletons in there, then you are very smart indeed, and may just win the honor of rescuing the maiden.

She may however, go into the cave anyway.

Disclaimer

2009-01-07T10:24:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

On the following morning, November 21st, we left at dawn for Ensendad de Los Muertos, a distance of about 45 miles directly into the wind. The first leg of the journey stood us well out to sea past the point that make up the bay or small cove know as Los Frailles. On our second tack we stood along the southern beach of Los Palmas Bay. This bay is approximately 30 miles in length and has along it’s southern shore, two large rivers that enter into the bay that are filled with palms. I could not see from the boat just what kind of palms they were, but they have, both coconut and date palms in this area. There is a small town called Buena Vista that is located on the shore near one of the river entrances. It makes a beautiful appearance from the sea.

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I'm at home this morning, posting from my personal computer, the one that doesn't automatically connect to the server of the corporate headquarters, whose server is identified by Google Analytics as 'Great Lakes'. Not the one that has all this software that monitors my every keystroke. With IT security guys looking for keywords that would indicate nefarious, unauthorized activity. (Oops, I just edited this blog from the wrong computer . . .)

I can use all kinds of language that might get me into trouble and only have to worry about Homeland Security. Those wimps are nothing compared to the corporate headquarter goons. I work for a 40 billion dollar company that doesn't need to be bailed out. They are actually profitable, even in this economy.

I can beg or hint at my desire to get a pirate hat and turn a sailboat into an amusement park.

And my readers will understand.

I'm at home, the rest of my project team knows this, even the manager that grinds his teeth every time my name comes up. I'm waiting for an important package from FedEx Ground. I know they'll be delivering it, the tracking computer God said so. But hey, it could be delivered in the next minute, or 8 o'clock tonight.

Aaargh.

And I'm sailing this Weekend! Yeah! I won't be 'Skipper Of Record' (SOR), that unlucky fellow has never had me on board, I don't know the other crew (except for the Admiral).

And it's going to be warm. WOW, all that clenching of fists has paid off.

And I'll be on a J105, in a semi competitive environment. If the idiot at the helm (even if it's me) runs into something, it's not my responsibility.

Hey! I can close my eyes and do foredeck! Yippie!

We're going to fly the 'kite'.

And today, at home, I can pull up maps and charts and blog to my hearts content.

Hmmm, my charting software is on that other computer . . .

But if I disable it's transmitter, and don't allow it to connect via a wire . . .

Bradley, how do I find that log file that records my keystrokes?

Bradley?

BRAAAAADLEY!

Where are you?

I need you!

He's probably cuddled up with his girlfriend.

sheeesh, girlfriends are such a distraction to my young nerdy, geeky friends.

Soul Searching

2009-01-07T09:28:00.000-08:00

Today's Blog is going to be different.

I've done some soul searching and I need feedback from my readers.

I started this as a personal journey, just using blogger as a device to capture my thoughts and to help me transcribe Dr. Holcomb's journal.

That transcription is creating a Microsoft Word document. I copy a paragraph or two onto the post as I go, then . . . well, if you are reading this you know the rest.

But I now need help.

I've been using Charlie Bergstedt's Blog and others to track the weather and water conditions on SF Bay for about as long as I've been writing this blog. In fact it was Charlie's Blog and a little push from a dear friend, that got me started. I wanted to know how Charlie did it, and discovered Blogger. I haven't learned enough about Blogger to really make a quality Blog, but I'm learning inch by inch.

Then, a couple of months ago, I happened upon The Skip's Blog. From there I found and starting reading Tillerman's blog, from his comments about EVK4, I started reading that blog.

Ok, so some of you are smarter than I am, you understand how blogs work, how the internet connects people all over the world (I had to read a book to figure this out).

As soon as I started linking and tossing out challenges and stealing ideas from Tillerman and EVK4, signs of life in Google Analytics started to appear.

But the quality of EVK4, the simplicity of it, the openness of it. The extraordinary fact that his boat, Lady Bug, is within spitting distance (for some) of the OCSC docks I use to embark on most of my sailing adventures. That has really made me step back and think about what I'm doing with this Blog.

Since I started this blog and turned on the Google Analytics Function, 509 visits from 26 countries have been logged. Yeah, this pales in contrast to EVK4 and Tillerman, they have hundreds of thousands of visits from probably every country in the world, as well as interplanetary visitors, but whateeever duuude, I just want to go sailing, and share that with whoever wants to join me.

I know who maybe 5 of these people are who read this blog on a regular basis.

But 26 countries? What the . . .?

Ok, so the vast majority are people who stumble on this site. They don't even get this far into it, and quickly leave. Who cares about them?

I don't.

But I do care about the strangers who come back and read more pages. Even if they live in Australia or Rio . . . or Poland? Hello? is there even sailing in Poland? If so, please email me and let me know. Seriously, that would be cool.

I'm a Californian, we on the left coast don't really understand the rest of the world.

There is a joke that when the really bad earthquake comes on the Pacific Coast, we'll be able to go skiing at Tahoe, then Sail the Atlantic Ocean along the beach in what used to be Nevada. San Francisco, the city that can, will live forever.

But I digress, I'm very good at that.

I would like to be better at Blogging, if I have friends who sail in Poland that I don't know about . . .

Or Rio. hmmm, Rio sounds really nice, I just didn't want Poland to feel bad.

SO PLEASE email me, where ever you are, and let me know what you like about this blog, what you don't like, etc. You can even put a comment on this blog, but hey, if you don't want to publicly admit to reading this, an email would be fine.

If you have a nasty thing to flame me with, you can place an anonymous comment, and nobody will ever know who you are, including me. I don't moderate the comments, haven't had to - cause I don't get any.

I'll still do what ever I like, but who knows? the feedback may just improve your reading experience.

Captain John

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Ok, now that I've finished begging for feedback, here is your next Journal entry:

The headlands that make up the small indentations on either side of the Lower California Coast are bold and rocky. They rise, generally, in the mountains back of them, to heighths of four to six thousand feet and are spectacular in appearance. They are beautiful when the sun shines upon them directly and this beauty is even enhanced in the shadows that come with the early dawn and dusk.

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Wow, that's cool, that's the kind of writing I expected in my Grandfather's journal. Makes me want to get on a boat, sail out the gate and head south.

(Just kidding Richard, I know OCSC's insurance stops as soon as I leave the gate - I'll be a good boy and just dream for now).

Blog, Blog, Blog

2009-01-06T23:54:00.000-08:00

(B)Log . . .

On the eastern side of the Lower California peninsular, the country is predominately green, while on the other side it is predominately dry and brown. There are numerous cattle ranches that one could see along he shore and as we came into Los Frailles Bay, near our anchorage, it was odd to see great numbers of cattle wading along the shore close to the water. I never knew that cattle like to go bathing at the beach, but these seemed to take the beach, either, as a convenient road or they enjoyed walking in the sand. There were 20 to 40 cattle roaming around the beach at Los Frailles Bay.
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Blog about the Log:

I’m blown away as I transcribe my grandfather’s log (journal). The things he would write about. The language he’d use. I know that he coveted the recognition from places like the New York Yacht Club, and the Cruising Club of America. I know that his circumnavigation meant a lot of things to him. The journal would be his way of putting his stamp on that world. This, his generation, was one of legacies; Sterling Hayden on Brigadoon and Wanderer, the Johnson’s on Yankee; Schooners traveling to the South Seas and around the world, writing about it and sharing it with others - following in the footsteps of Captain Cook, Bligh and the Bounty, Christian on Pitcairn, Darwin in the Galapagos.

In the sixties around the dining room table, the comments I’d hear, the references to other schooner trips. Those discussions echo in my ear as I read the words in ‘Dr. Holcomb’s Journal’ as I type them on this computer. The purpose of the journal is clear to me.

But the subjects are eye opening. The Grandfather I knew was a sailor who strummed a ukulele on the deck of a schooner anchored in Ayala Cove, signing lusty sea chantries and ballads to society folk from that lesser city by the bay; the city with Lake Merritt in the middle.

The songs bringing to mind time spent in the South Pacific.

Not cows bathing at the beach.

That’s a side of him I lost and am beginning to find.

We'll get to the south seas later.

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Blog about the Passion of Sailing, where does it come from? Where does it take me? :

I was watching Peter Bodanovich's film 'Running Down The Dream' about the 30 year legacy of the rock group Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.

Not fully paying attention to the film, I was reflecting on the difficulty of writing my Blog and trying to keep three streams of thought going at the same time:

. . . Discovering my Grandfather through his journal.

. . . Relating his circumnavigation to the loss in my life.

. . . The passion for sailing and sharing that with others.

It's like I'm trying to write three Blogs at the same time.

The answer came in the words of one of the people being interviewed in the film.

He remarked on the idea that the really successful rockstars all seemed to come from childhoods that involved the loss of a parent.

I’m no rockstar, in any sense of the word. But I understand that passion, I think every sailor knows that underlying drive to go down to the sea and find what was lost on land.

The idea there was this passion and drive that emanates from such a loss – now that resonated with me. Experiencing a loss as a youngster creates this well of emotion resulting in a passion for something. That the ‘something’ could take on different drives for different people. The loss I suffered is too personal to write about at this stage, but the passion that stems from that loss . . .

That I now understand.

For sailors, the passion drives us to go down to the sea, take to the water, leave the mechanics of the industrial age bound up in the machinery of mankind, and seek the natural forces that are the imbalance between wind and water; that get you somewhere else. To seek the treasure buried elsewhere.

I shared this with the wise Admiral. Her suggestion was to compartmentalize, something I’ve always struggled with. But it makes sense now – thus three blogs in one post.

In each compartment, a post that fuels the passions that propels me to write.

. . . The journal

. . . What it means to me

. . . Sharing the passion of sailing

Singular Sounds

2009-01-06T18:05:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

We left San Lucas Bay with a very light wind from the southwest. It blew us along past the first point which is called Ballena Point and we were shortly in the San Jose Del Cabo Bay. This bay is, again, one of the great historical importance, because from it the entire mission system of California was produced. The friars from Carnevaca went to San Blas. There they took boats from the Mexican mainland and landed at San Jose Del Cabo, which is the first valley of any importance, north of Cape San Lucas. There is a river entering into the sea at this point, but nothing that one might actually call a satisfactory harbor.

As we coasted along from the sea, it was interesting to look at the old houses and spires of the church through field glasses. Most of the town was concealed by trees, but there was enough visible to make a very beautiful scene. One is reminded, again, of the sagacity of the Jesuit Priests who seem to pick places where their church and congregation might prosper.

We sailed along gaily with a favorable wind for about two hours, when suddenly and without warning, the wind shifted 180 degrees and brew directly at us, from the course that we had intended to make. We were going along a northeasterly course and we had a north east wind. It was not long before it kicked up a nasty chop. We set our sails in a close hauled attitude put on the motor, and beat up against the chop that we had from there all the way up to La Paz.
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Log comments:

This is cool, growing up sailing on SF Bay, one learns to understand the interaction of the flow of the air around objects. My grandfather lived on Adams Point, a few blocks from Lake Merritt. My mother (I’m the son of a daughter of a sailor) learned to sail an El Toro there. So did I, and many others (some of them famous – Tilly, eat your heart out, LOL!). Kaiser Aluminum built and office tower to the west of the lake, in the shape of a sail – well, sort of.

The west wind had to bend around this obstruction and find its way East along Grand avenue, collide with Adams point, then bend south. This flow alternated with the flow down 20th Street. The boathouse was situated on a point, and we learned at the age of eight, how to get to the mark just south of this point by playing the wind shifts. Some of them really large wind shifts.

So when I read the log entry, I knew just what ‘skipper’ was talking about.

My MapSource program includes Baja California, so I went down there on a virtual cruise.

The circles are the ‘Major Lights’, lighthouses to the common land lubber. The second one from the lower left is Ballena Point, the next one up the coast from there, San Jose Del Cabo. The third one, well, that’s the subject of the next post about beach bathing cattle.

And here is what the wind was doing, some of it coming down the valley of importance:

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Musings on the present tense:

A call you don't want to get-

"After a review of the circumstances, we've determined that you are responsible for the sail repair on Spinnaker # . . . "

The good news (sort of):

It's only $59.04

That is to repair an 18" rip between the sail and the luff tape about 3/4 up the port side.

Here is my tale of woe-

We were doublehanding a J24 about a month ago. The details of which day it was and who the other person on board was are lost in the fog of my memory. My brain seems to only retain those crystal clear images associated with certain experiences.

The sight of a fleet or YRA boats on the party circuit taking the lee of Angel Island wide to stay in the gentle breeze downwind.

Us crossing the fleet and threading the needle as we sailed close hauled towards the straights in wonderfully clear air.

I even have pictures! - I just can’t find them, but the memories!

Oh Yeah!

But who I was with that fateful December day? Oops, sorry, that little detail is written over by the singular sound of sail cloth being separated from its stitching. And the particular sensation of gathered cloth in ones hands, the tearing sound linked to the pull of the forearms.

Hmm, what's that sound?

It stopped when I stopped pulling. It starts when I start pulling . . .

Oops

$59.04 (plus tax)

Skipper Of Record (SOR) comes home to roost.

Sailing With Our Ears

2009-01-04T14:16:00.001-08:00

From the Log . . .

On November 20th at dawn, a start was made for LaPaz. We had decided that the trip should be cut into three almost equal stages. The first stop was to be at a small cove know as Los Frailles; the second at Ensenada de Los Muertos; and the third day we hoped to be make it close into La Paz or close into the vicinity of La Paz. As a matter of fact we did not wish to arrive there on Sunday, which would have been our third day, because the Mexican officials levy an out of hours toll on Sundays, holidays or any time that is not during their working hours. I believe it can be said that their working hours are very short and extend from 9:00 A.M. to 2:00 P.M.

We anticipated a most difficult trip up the Gulf of California. It is notorious fo it’s northerly winds that blow all of the time. Sometimes they blow with marked ferocity. In addition to the wind that blows directly against you and makes a choppy sea, there is a current that is set wouthward by the force of the wind, further impeding your progress.
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Musings in the past tense:

A couple of posts ago, I included a Google terrain map of the tip of the Baja Peninsula. La Paz is Northwest of Cabo, but on the Eastern Side of the Peninsula. So beating up the right coast in the Gulf of California to get to La Paz would have as Kimball would say:

“the character of work”

The next couple of posts should be interesting.
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Musings in the present tense:

In my first sail of 2009, we struggled with a lee helm.

I was writing an email from my phone, but I hit the wrong button and *poof*.

So I thought I’ll recreate it here, using all my fingers on the keyboard.

The Admiral had been out on New Year's day and her sailing partner for that day demonstrated tying off the tiller with the bitter end of the mainsheet to make the helm self tending.

She wanted to experiment with that technique some more. But with the lee helm it wasn't happening. We didn't want to lead the bitter end of the mainsheet to the leeward side, so a struggle to get it to work ensued. I tried to figure out what sail trim would move the Center of Effort back to balance the Center of Lateral Resistance and give us a couple of degrees to Windward Helm to work with.

I couldn't do it, and my head seemed to be hitting a brick wall. The wall seemed to be saying:

"You got a little jib, you dolt! There can't be enough force up there to be giving you Lee Helm!"

So today I turned back to the discussion of CE and CLR in Chapman - I don't have a photographic memory, but having read something I can sometimes find it again.

Chapman, on page 279, describes Lee Helm, and goes on to say:

“many sailboats develop a slight tendency for lee helm in light air”

Oh

Well that explains it I guess, but what to do about it?

The very nice explanation of the forces on the keel and rudder, and a great figure (8-04), showing why a slight weather helm generates the best lift, vs. drag situation was there as I remembered. But I could not find an explanation of sail trim that would turn a slight Lee Helm into a slight Weather Helm in light winds on one of the many sailboats that develop this tendency. Sail trim books seem to focus on sail trim, not sail and helm trim. I guess that makes a certain sense, but sailing is a balancing act, and the sails are only on one side of that fulcrum.

I'd been reading the Sail Trim book from SAIL magazine, and searched and searched, but couldn't find Lee Helm anywhere. Then, while driving, it hit me. In 'Trimming the Genoa for Speed' by Mike Toppa, there are a couple of statements:

"Most boats have different size Genoas for different wind speeds"

and

"the sail's maximum draft is about 45 percent of the total girth distance back from the luff."

I had rigged the J24 by myself while the sun was heading for the horizon. There were a couple of gusts that come over the point of the marina, so I decided to go for the softer side of sailing and hanked the 100% jib on the forestay.

45% back from the luff of the 100% is further forward than 45% back from the luff of the 150% Genoa. And if we were carrying the sails we should have for the wind conditions we were sailing in, then we would have set the 150. Headsail change at night while doublehanding a J24? Just to mess around with self tending the tiller?

Now why didn't I think of that?!

I was too busy listening to the music the waves were making on the hull.

We had sailed by 'D', the Flashing Green on the pole stuck in the mud. and decided to tack. 'E' was still on the dock at the Berkeley Yacht Club, so once we passed where it used to be, we headed north.

A discussion about staying in the groove was going on, and we decided to sail with our eyes closed, or at least having the helmsperson sail with her eyes closed, and ears open, to feel the groove by sound alone.

You see, the boat makes a different noise when sailing close hauled at a tight angle to the waves. The waves are generally perpendicular to the wind, so there is a distinctive sound as the bow crests each wave and drops into the next trough. There wasn't much in the way of waves, but just enough to hear this particular frequency.

So we started to sail a wavy course. We'd shine the flashlight up at the mast head to calibrate how close the windex said we were, to what the groove felt like, then she'd close her eyes and continue for about a minute on course, then slowly turn down about 5 degrees, listen to the change in the timber of the sound of the boat going through the water, feel the change with a little sideways roll combining with the pitching motion to create a wallow.

We would then head back up to get in the groove. We did this about five times then sailed up a little closer and held that all the way to the north side of the Circle. At that point, it wasn't necessary for her to close her eyes, the sound the boat was making was part of the feel. The moonlight on the waves made for a great reference to that lovely shhhh . . . . shhhh . . . . shhhh sound.

It was a magical sail.

Lee Helm

2009-01-04T14:16:00.000-08:00

Moonlight Memories

2009-01-03T16:21:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

Our last night in Cape San Lucas was a particularly beautiful one. The moon was almost full and shone on the surrounding headland and white beach with a brilliance. It illuminated a path across the water and lighted some fleecy clouds that floated gently overhead. In addition to that we all seemed to at peace with ourselves and with each other. It is extremely difficult to have four people together on a small boat for six weeks and not have some unhappy moments or situations. I can honestly say that we have never, as yet, had an actual unhappy situation and that on the last night that we remained in San Lucas Bay it seemed that we all were most friendly and affectionate towards each other and the whole situation which we found ourselves in. We had mailed all the mail that had been written previous to our entry to the harbor and the only thing that we had left hanging over our shoulders was a number of films that we wanted to get away, but they could not take them due to the fact that they had to stamped by a customs officer.

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Musings in the past tense:

See, he refers to it as ‘Cape San Lucas’. There is nothing about hordes of pacific coast sailors descending on the beaches and bars in the fall. In the first edition of Kimball Livingston’s book ‘Sailing the Bay’, is a section entitled ‘San Francisco’s Ocean’. A section of that chapter explains why sailors go south in the fall. ‘Soggy Socks and Instant Oatmeal’ explains that:

“Cruising to Southern California has the character of a lark. Cruising back has the character of work . . .”

He mentions that in the fall this lark extends all the way to the tip of Baja California (Cabo San Lucas - Cape is Cabo in Spanish). There is now a lark called the Ba ha ha, which is a fleet of sailboats who make this journey each year. But in 1953, things were much calmer there.

Hmm, I bet Herman the pig, and those lonely lobsters would take exception to the idea that 'We have never had an actual unhappy situation'.

My First Sailing Experience of 2008 - Moonlight Memories - was much like my Grandfather's entry (without the warmth). But it's way cool that a past tense and present tense musing intersect.
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Musings in the present tense:

Admiral Anne and I went sailing last night. My first sail of 2009 - EVK4 and Tillerman have now got me counting.

It was supposed to be a late afternoon romp in the sunshine (which was spectacular once the rain stopped). But for a lot of reasons, we didn’t leave the dock until after the sun went down.

It was a lot of things, but it was also COLD, with a capital C, O, L, and D!. Not Tillerman’s kind of cold, not the kind of cold that frostbiter’s face when sailing in the winter in places where white stuff covers the ground and the water is sometimes in it’s solid phase.

It is a very special kind of cold unique to San Francisco Bay. EVK4 described it very well in a December, 2007 post. It didn’t bother me until the last hour, as we ghosted past the lighted section of the Berkeley Pier. At that point Anne and I had a discussion of the kind of cold I was feeling. I mentioned I was ‘wet’,

Ok, I'm not sooooo young, or sooooo old to be wearing diapers, it wasn't that kind of wet. sheeesh. And I wasn't crying like a baby about it either!

I was trying to describe the special aspect of the experience.

Yes, I had my ‘foulies’ on, no, they were still water proof, so I wasn’t wet under the surface. But every outer surface of the boat and ourselves had that ‘cold damp’ feeling to it.

I just clenched my teeth, and formed my hands into fists, and tried to ignore that special quality of our kind of cold – to quote EVK4:

“Our cold has water's natural ability to soak in and not go away”.

Technically, what was going on was that the magical mini fibers of the foul weather gear were coated with a thin film of moisture that exceeded the surface area of the fibers, resulting in a constant heat transfer that sucked the warmth though the many layers of gear between me and the world. It took about 3 hours for that heat transfer to penetrate the layers, but once it did, it would not go away.

Ah, but for those first three hours, it was a magical sail in clear air and moonlight. The moon was not full, but the sliver shown brightly. The path the light struck across a gentle ripple, sometimes accentuated by the wake of tugboats in the distance was fantastic. The city lights were like sparkling glass.

Ok, so I kind of stole that last line from the Admiral.

Here is what she actually said (in the form of a Dear John Letter - I get those a lot):

Dear John,
Woooooow.......
What a magical night! The exquisite beauty of
SF's skyline was mesmerizing. Skyscrapers appeared like glowing
transparent glass cubes rising up from the Bay. As the boat gently cut through the water, there was an ever changing kaleidoscope of
lights. The bright crescent moon's light danced upon the waves
painting a dreamy trail of shimmering glitter. The soothing sounds of the water lapping against the hull was a perfect musical accompaniment.

And then she went sailing with someone else.

Really, this lady Admiral is even more addicted to sailing than I am.

At dusk, we were in the vicinity of a tugboat that is anchored on the north side of the Circle. Anne at the helm, we set a course that would pass it just to windward. The light breeze from the northwest carried us along with a whisper as the form of the vessel seemed to catch the last little bit of light to loom out of the darkness like a ghost.

Using some piloting skills, we tacked upwind to find the dolphins of the Richmond Ship Channel Range marks, crossed the mouth of the inner harbor and tacked westward in the lee of the abandoned railroad ferry pier at Ferry Point.

Here is our track at that point, up close and personal, courtesy of my Garmin Oregon:

I highly recommend the Oregon. We were in a J24, headed for the range markers, and the unlighted end of the jetty across the channel from RYC. We were at low tide, which was -.1 ft. We can't quite pass the lower dolphin to windward, can we take it to leeward? I consult the Oregon, and the answer is yes, but if we continue on that tack, we'll locate the end of the jetty with our bow. So we decide to tack after the marker. The wind being Northwest by north (NWbN). Follow the link and you'll learn how to box the compass*.

Cool.

We thread our way between the jetty and the red buoy (this one is lighted), and tack downwind of the 'Ruins' on the north edge of the channel. We follow the channel EDGE - cause there is tug traffic all hours of the day and night.

We round the green lighted buoy and head towards Keller Cove and the Richmond Long Wharf.

The plan is to tack our way upwind towards the Long Wharf and it's tanker activity, then cut across the channel to the Red Rock tide cone. Our objective, sail around Red Rock.

So we double check our nav lights, and oops! the battery died, so we got none. We tack, then gibe, and make our way back to a good channel crossing point with the flashlight on the sail like we are supposed to, and cross the channel on a perpendicular course, looking both ways and waiting for the closest tug to pass us by before crossing the street.

After we are safely in the 'General Anchorage' with it's lone old tug at anchor, we set the chute, and use the flashlight sparingly on our way home.

We find the tug (so we don't run into it), and sail by it nicely making way under the stars with our chute leading the way.

It was cool - well, until the aforementioned heat transfer problem found it's endpoint. Then it was COLD.

This year, I'm going to document each sail with a Microsoft word document with screen shots of our track in MapSource, and some Oregon screen shots as well.

Partly this is to prepare (without the cost of chartering) for things like the 3BF, and other 'Piloting' challenges.

So send me an email, and I'll reply with the document attached, if you are interested. This is a shameless attempt to tease the lurkers out of the shadows, and get them to identify themselves.

But they'll get a treat if they do. And I promise to keep their identities a secret. All two of them.

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*BTW, Boxing the Compass is covered by Chapman, which is where I'm at in my effort to read it cover to cover. But the book is too big to lug everywhere, my kitchen table has two computers, several usb hard drives, the Oregon, snacks . . . and it turns out that most of the cools stuff is on Wikipedia as well.

Cabo Pig Stories

2009-01-02T12:00:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

Two situations will remain in my mind as being exceedingly funny. In the first place after we had obtained the pig and had tied a small rope to one of it’s hind feet, we went into the bar for a split of Cart Blanca beer and we tied the pig to the footrail and drank our beer without any concern on our part, nor did their seem to much concern on the part of the bartender. It seemed to him to be a perfectly normal situation. As we carried it from the village back through the small valley to the beach, the little pig made an awful squealing noise. Dean remarked that the only thing that made more noise under a fence was two pigs under a fence. Apparently the squealing brought sympathy into the heart of an old sow that was in a nearby field and actually she charged at us. I do not know whether she actually would have come in bodily contact with one of us had I not taken rocks and heaved them at her. This turned her away for awhile and as Dean went on ahead with the pig, I held back the infuriated sow, who apparently was trying to render some assistance to one of the squealing children in the neighborhood.

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It appears from the gap in the journal, and the next journal paragraph (which will appear in the next post) that the journey down the Baja Peninsula is missing from my copy of the journal. Hermans (the piglet) appears to have met his end in Cabo.

I’m getting ahead of the story, but in the next post, the journal describes the location where the above takes place as ‘Cape San Lucas’. When I googled that, I found a Encyclopedia Britannica article that indicates that this cape is the extreme southern tip of Baja California. Looking closer, ‘Cape’ in Spanish is ‘Cabo’. In the next post I’ll elaborate on that.

So in a prior post, the journal describes dressing the piglet and roasting it, without too much detail as how it met its end. Scalding is mentioned, but . . . well, one wonders, but I don’t want to dwell on that. Dr. Holcomb takes the piglet to a bar, and prevents the condemned pig from being rescued by a sow. He found it extremely funny, I’m not so amused.
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Now for something completely different:

In EVK4’s Three Bridge Fiasco post, he announces that he’s ‘making another run at this race’. Embarrassingly, I immediately (and publicly) volunteer to crew for him, without thinking about the fact that it is a race put on by the Singlehanded Sailing Society.

And, oh, by the way, Edward mentions in his post that he’s already sailing with an ‘incredible sailor’.

Wait a minute, if it’s put on by the Singlehanded Society, isn’t it a Singlehanded race?

Well, no, it’s open to doublehanders as well.

So I guess, I have to announce that I will also enter the Three Bridge Fiasco. When I mentioned this to Admiral Anne, she immediately emailed me with such enthusiasm, that I’ll just have to go through with it.

If only I had a boat . . .

Actually I have two boats, but I’d have to take the next three weeks off to prepare them to go back in the water. Work won’t allow that, so I’ll just have to figure out how to get my hands on something that is already wet.

Let’s see, Anne and I could each singlehand in two of her three El Toros (that is why Anne is an Admiral, she has a fleet), but I think their rating would force us to start the race the day before.

Also, they don’t have heads, so taking biobreaks would be problematic.

They also don’t have navigation lights, but if I remember that Chapman chapter, they are so short that they aren’t required to display lights.

They’d also be like a bug on a windshield to a tanker.

Stay tuned.

If Pigs Could Fly

2009-01-02T00:46:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

(gap in the journal)

. . . surface. We were all attracted by one pelican, who would take his position at a point about 20 yards off of the pier each day, and would sit there all day long. Whenever you would go up, the pelican was sitting at this spot as if he were moored. I never saw him dive or catch any fish. Just why he wanted to sit there all day long was more than any of us could explain. We came to the conclusion that he had an outright priority on that part of the harbor and he was going to keep it to himself come what may.

This day was notable for the fact that Marilyn cooked her first roast pig. We had seen a number of these little porkers running around the village and after a dinner of steaks, a second dinner of fried chicken, we were in the habit of having good dinners. Accordingly, Dean and I went ashore and dickered with one of the inhabitants for a small pig. He brought us a cute little black pig that we call Herman. After he was dressed, he weighted 15 pounds. He cost us 20 pesos, which actually is $2.50. We thought a roast pig was worth this amount of money.

We had a great time in the butchering of the pig. We took it to the bench that was adjacent to the boat, found an old 5 gallon oil can in which we scalded the pig and a couple of Mexican boys came along to help us, making a count of 5 that were actually butchering this poor little piglet. We were not able to use his head because our oven is so small that we could not get it in. Accordingly, this was cut off and given to one of the Mexican boys who seemed to prize it very much. We also gave them some gum, soda pop and a few centavos. They were friendly little youngsters who were trying as best they could to be helpful.

Marilyn looked at the butchered porker with dismay, saying that she had never cooked a pig before and did not know how in the world she was going to do it. She did, however, cook it in an admirable fashion. It was seasoned and baked to a delicious turn. We ate almost half of it at the first sitting. Marilyn made up a large pot of pork and beans with part of the roast. We had it liver fried for breakfast the following morning and had it cold for dinner the second day.
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If pigs could fly, I’m sure Herman would have taken to the air. Not sure, but perhaps Marilyn would have liked to have some wings as well.

But if you are sailing a ship around the world in the 50’s, the ability to barter or purchase livestock, kill it and cook it is a skill that is probably lost to today’s travelers.

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On a very different subject, Tillerman did his annual ‘Simply the Best’ gimmick, got a bunch of sailing bloggers to link to his blog and, well, what do you know, my handful of readers has exceeded the number of fingers on both hands. At least for today.

The comments people leave are still very few, so I don’t know what if anything, results in people reading this. But I know there are lurkers out there, and they come from all over the globe, so that is kind of fun.

In addition to setting a goal to transcribe my Grandfather’s journal, I’ve also set a goal to read all of Tillerman’s blog posts, all of EVK4’s blog posts, and Chapman from cover to cover.

I found it really difficult to keep track of what I’ve read (except for Chapman, where I can use an actual bookmark). So to help guide me in these three goals, I turned to Mister Gates spreadsheet program and listed the months of the years from 2005 to present day. I included a couple of months from 2003 (when the EVK4 Superblog got started). I created three columns.

The first for Tillerman’s Blog, the second for EVK4, and the third for the 26 chapters of Chapman. I gave each Chapman Chapter two cells.

As you can kind of tell from the graphic, Chapman is ahead in my reading, followed by EVK4, and Tillerman is in last place. If he is as competitive as he seems to be, maybe, just maybe he’ll comment on this

We’ll see.

Resolutions

2009-01-01T09:55:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

When we got back to the boat, we had a nice westerly breeze and it was apparent that we could sail out of the harbor and across the bay towards Todos Santos Island and Santo Tomas Point. We pulled up the anchor and lo and behold the anchor stop was bent into a curve of a hook. We had, had a southeasterly blow of about 35 miles an hour, the day before and had to move, due to the fact that one of the small Mexican coastal steamers seemed to be drifting too close to us. We moved well out in the harbor and I thought all was well until we pulled up our Herthill Anchor and found the shank of the anchor bent so that the flukes of the anchor would not pass up and downward over the shank. We sailed around the Silver Bull to say goodbye to them, but they were ashore. We waved goodbye to Ensenada on a beautiful, clear, sunshiny day on October 23, 1953, with about a 5 knot breeze, which sailed us close to the tip of Pt. Banda, the lower part of Todo Santos Bay. This point is approximately 10 miles from Ensenada. We put out the trolling lines and fished all day long, but were unable to get any fish. We saw them jumping, but for some reason or rather, the lures that we were using did not appeal to the fish. Whether it was the lure, the lure, the leader, the spped we were going or what it was, but we did not catch any fish.

We had to make one tack in order to clear the rocks at the end of Pt. Banda then sailed on a quarterly breeze towards the Santo Tomas Island, another 10 miles down the coast. This, we rounded about 5:00 o’clock and we then went in, underneath a little . . .

(gap in the journal)

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I don’t make New Years Resolutions. Somehow the typical idea of making resolutions at the beginning of the year, then breaking them later doesn’t appeal to me.

But a couple of things have happened to me since I started this blog, and today isn’t such a bad day to reflect on the resolutions that those events instilled in me (well, at least one).

This is not a New Years Resolution. It’s a resolution that started with this blog.

I tend to be very good at starting things, less so at finishing them. The theme of this blog is twofold. To transcribe the journal that my grandfather dictated and Marilyn typed up as multiple carbon copies (typos and all). The copy that I’m transcribing from is a photocopy of one of the carbon copies.

My typing skills are limited, and Microsoft Word’s spell checker may introduce some corrections, but I hope the spirit of the thing comes through.

The other theme is to relate what I find so inspiring about sailing. To reflect on the lessons learned, the beauty of it in all of Mother Nature’s moods. Woven into this theme is the experience of learning to sail as ‘Captain’, including experience of the dynamics of being responsible for a vessel and the souls on board, and the effort to do so in a gentle manner. Many of the threads of this tapestry are colored by my own life time of sailing experiences, the experiences of the people I sail with, and recently, the impact that other sailing blogs are having on me.

This blog is not about me, me, me (like some blogs I know ;). It is first and foremost a sailing blog. Sailing is unique among the activities of people. When people go down to the sea, or out on the water, they are confronted with something so completely different from their life on land.

To experience moving through this world propelled mainly by the force of the wind, is a very special thing. To realize that it is not just the wind, but the imbalance of the forces of the wind on the sails and the water on the boat. That everything is in motion, and exerts a force.

It is the most dynamic world we can immerse ourselves in.

The feeling of being in control, and the humbling that occurs when we are not.

So as I write this, I realize that today's part of the journal is so very appropriate. It is about leaving a safe harbor, sailing away from an anchorage, with a damaged anchor, and navigating between an Island and around a headland, venturing out onto the open ocean.

Since my tendency is to not finish things, to be distracted and go exploring, the resolution that I made in September was to finish this thing, the transcription of the journal.

Along with that, I also hope that a dedication to finish something will bleed over into my non-sailing life.

A Kind Wish for a Pleasant Voyage

2008-12-30T09:18:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

On the 22nd of October, we made our decision to leave, the following day, from Ensenada for the next anchorage below Ensenada, which is know as Santa Tomas Anchorage. The port captian of San Diego, who was in a boat adjacent to us, determined that we could get our papers on the 22nd and leave early the following morning.

Dean Smith, therefore, went ashore in the morning to obtain the bill of health and I was going in to obtain the remainder of our papers from the captain of the port, including the immigration officials at 3:00 o’clock, when I was advised that the Captain of the port was open.

Dean and Rey had a very interesting time getting the bill of health. They went to the various doctor’s offices, hospitals and each one told them to go some place else. As a matter of fact, I do not believe that anyone understood what they wanted. They went into on hospital, where the man who was in charge thought that they wanted a taxi cab, so she called a cab. Finally, however, they came back after a morning of hard work in Ensenada with a bill of health, which, if I can read Spanish at all, means that neither, myself, the boat, or any of the crew could possibly have picked up anything contagious in Ensenada. It was signed by the doctor, so that makes us all pure.

In the afternoon, Marilyn and I went ashore to get paper to go along further. We first went to the immigration authority and he looked at the papers that we had made out for ourselves, in a very questioning manner, said that our counselor stamp was perfectly good, but that he had never seen anything like the papers that we had. I believe that, that is true because everyone said that the paper could only be made out, going as far a Ensanada to the next official area of domain. This would amount to a trip between Ensenada and Cape San Lucas. I had heard in San Diego that the touring permit would let you go though Mexico entirely, if you merely made out the papers. Accordingly, Marilyn and I took some old Spanish sailing papers and made out a list of the placed that we wanted to go in Mexico ending at Salina Cruz. The immigration official had never seen anything like this and said that he would not sign our paper. He would put a stamp on it and I thought that, that might pass the port captain.

At 5:00 o’clock, we went back to the port captain’s office and found that he was not in. As a matter of fact, the office was closed and we wee told that his office hours were from 9:00 until 2:00. We had been waiting around Ensenada until 3:00 o’clock, as someone else had told us the office opened at that time. Therefore, it seemed inadvisable to do anything further about the thing and we went to one of the nearby bars for a beer. We met the captain of the port of San Diego and his friend, who was also in the bar and a friend of theirs who was also a shipping man, who was interested in various shipping companies and we waited around until 5:00 o’clock, as someone else told us the captain of the port would be back about that time.

We went down and found no one there and got the information that the office would be open at 9:00 o’clock in the morning. At about the time, one of the captain’s employees did come along, Mr. Sates recognized him, and asked him to stamp our papers. He looked at them very woefully and said that he had never seen anything like them, did not think they were legal and that we had better come back in the morning and see the captain of the port.

We were advised at every step we went to get a broker. On my previous trip through Mexico, I had had so much trouble with brokers that I thought possibly the trouble I would have by myself, would be very much less than if I employed one of the Mexican brokers to completely confused. As it turned out subsequently, this was the fact of the matter.

On Friday morning, October 23, 1953, we went into the town to see the captain of the port. We were then advised that his office opened at 10:00 o’clock so we walked around for a while and came back at about 9:30. Finally, the captain of the port came in and he was a very kindly gentleman. He had been in the maritime service of Mexico for many years. He had been captain of the port of Ensenada four times. He spoke excellent English. We talked about his visits to Alameda, and his affection for California, San Francisco and especially the peninsula below San Francisco. He looked at the papers that we had made out and said they were not exactly according to the Boyle, but they would do perfectly well if we would only take them back to the immigration officer and have him sign them.

We then back to the immigration officer, a distance of about three blocks and he said that the papers were irregular and he would not sign them. He would sign, however, the counselor list of the crew with our names and position on the ship. He did sign this put his name on it, and I took it back to the captain of the port. The captain of the port sighed, and said that the official actually did not know very much about marine affairs, so he told his stenographer, to make us up a set of papers that said exactly the same thing that our papers did, except that they were on official Mexican stationary.

We then took these back to the immigration official and he stamped them and signed them promptly what so ever, saying that we had probably paid $15.00 for these papers, and it was too bad, but it was the only way that he could do it. While, we were here, we also picked up our counselor list that had been stamped, in as much as it actually is our passport for the whole crew into Mexico. We then went back to the captain of the port’s office to have our papers stamped. They were given to us without any charge, what so ever and a kind wish for a pleasant voyage. The stenographer in the office said that he had never seen any such papers before when they were finished and the captain of the port said they were perfectly legal for a yacht. Here to fore, the broker, either, did not know that you could get a passport through all of Mexico, or he was purposely trying to make a yacht owner have a group of papers from one port to the next. (There is a considerable swell in here, so please excuse the typing) Whether or not the remainder of the Mexican officials know that law or not will be seen as the situation transpires down the coast.

When we had obtained the paper and left a few packages of cigarettes for the port captain and his secretary, I felt a little sheepish about not paying a fee and having a broker do it instead of the port officials and yet I am certain that, in my own mind, the brokers are the people that cause you overtime charges, charges for various types of stores that they put aboard and all types of odd things that they put on their bill, that in fact they got themselves. The officials as far as I could see, were perfectly honest, decent, kind and were willing and anxious to do the best that they could for us. Hereafter, I will take my chance with the official, rather than the broker.

______________________________

The above account gave me much pause.

The back and forth, the effort to avoid brokers and get papers that would not require additional interaction with the Mexican Officials down the coast. I found all of this very interesting. There is a very independent streak that runs through my family. A fierce desire to be free of entanglements seems to be a genetic trait.

Sailing provides this freedom, provides an opportunity to be totally in the moment. Away from shore, it is the water, wind and waves. A balance of forces that are not man made.

Sometimes beautiful, sometimes . . . not.

In the journal, I was struck by the image of Marilyn typing away in the cabin below decks in a large swell in Ensenada Harbor.

I can remember her calming me as I lay seasick and terrified in the top bunk of that very same cabin, my first exposure to a heeling sailing vessel as we made our way under the golden gate, with the leeward rail awash and the rush of the water against the hull in my ears below deck.

"the boat can't turn all the way over, it will be alright . . ." she spoke to me as my eyes stared at the pivoting cabin sea table, swinging side to side as we crested each swell rushing under the gate from the Pacific. For some reason, the sight of Navy Blue covered cushions and mahangony tables bring that memory rushing back to me

And then the statement:

“They were given to us without any charge, what so ever and a kind wish for a pleasant voyage”

To find the beauty in a pleasant voyage. The kindness of Mother Nature. That is what propels some to go down to the sea in ships, only to learn all the moods of Nature.

I'm struck by the notion that Grandfather's journal is largely about the social interactions they encounter on shore. Less about the voyage itself. More about the kindness of the people they meet.

Several posts back, Grandfather enjoys a highball with the immigration man, who now finds his papers irregular until they are presented below a Mexican letterhead.

Now the Port Captain turns out to be a pleasant fellow.

It will be very interesting indeed to see how the irregular documentation is greeted by the port captains down the coast, and what ‘skipper’ thinks about it.

The Ordinary Fashion That We Know

2008-12-27T21:49:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

We went into one of the Mexican markets and even that is a transformation. My memory of Mexican markets is of an open stall, where meat is covered with flies and you have to brush the flies away before you can see exactly what kind of meat you are getting. Even then, you are not at all certain. As you go into the markets, at the present time, they look very much as they would in San Diego. They have a refrigerated cabinet with the meat enclosed in glass and out in the ordinary fashion that we know in the United States . . .

I suspect that as we go further down the coast away from San Diego that more primitive conditions will exist.

______________________________

Our perceptions are always colored by our experiences.

1953 was the start of my grandfather's second attempt to circumnavigate. The first took him as far as Pitcairn. So when he says in his journal "My Memory of Mexican Markets", perhaps he is speaking of that earlier attempt.

I transcribe the journal a few pages at a time, then post a section at a time, trying now to set the size of the post so that a particular event is described.

But I know what the next event is, and it also deals with some reflection on this being a different trip, years after the first. Times had changed, and there is the coloring of the experiences which lead up to the present.

The first trip was with my Grandmother, my mother and her sister around 1937. My mother has the actual logs (not journal) from that trip. I have the scrapbook with photos from the Galapagos, and other ports of call between there and Pitcairn - I'll be writing about that in a future post.

This second trip, which results in a circumnavigation, is a different set of circumstances, and World War II had some bearing on things.

One of the most significant things is that Grandfather had divorced my Grandmother, and married Marilyn about a year prior to the start of this trip. Marilyn was his Secretary in his medical practice.

So with a young bride as his companion, the transformation of the Mexican Markets must have been a quite a relief.

As I recall, my Grandmother was one who would say exactly what was on her mind. Marilyn was quite a bit more reserved.

My grandfather, on the other hand, loved the sailor's life. Captain of his ship, 'skipper' to Marilyn. He embodied the confidence of one who knows what he, his ship, and his crew are capable of, and acted in a fashion that instilled in his shipmates an admiration for his qualities.

He was often described as 'charismatic'.

The Captain, in the ordinary fashion that we know, is the leader that everyone looks to for the answers to every question afloat.

It is interesting to note how this journal was recorded. Dach Hall, a young Australian, signed on as crew when they reached Australia. In a letter to my mother in 2001, he mentions that:

"I can recall that Skipper, when we were at sea without being disturbed, would go down to his cabin, armed with the Ship's Log, The Visitor's Book and any other pamphlets, photos or letters/notes etc... He would spend the better part of 3 hours dictating the 'log' on a wire tape, which Marilyn later sat down in the Cabin with the recorder and type up the 'log' - original and about six or eight carbon copies."

As I transcribe the 'log', I don't edit it, or correct misspellings. I reproduce it exactly as Marilyn typed it up.

This dictation and typing was the ordinary fashion that Marilyn experienced in 'Dr. Holcomb's medical practice'.

I marvel at what it must have been like for her at sea, listening to a wire recorder and typing the journal with a mass of carbon copies. The young wife of a Surgeon, following in the footsteps of a previous wife, at least part way around the world.

In close relationships, there is an honesty that is fundamental to such a journey.

It is fascinating to me, as I attempt to avoid the coloring of my own experiences, and perceive the log as it was written. To follow along and try to understand the journey on a path I've never taken.

To witness the honesty of a first hand account, without judgement.

For this is not the ordinary fashion that we know.

Ayala Cove

2008-12-26T20:57:00.000-08:00

Ayala Cove is steeped in history.

Throughout my young life, I'd read stories of the South Pacific, and the image of the cove was always in my mind.

Pictures of the Galapagos, Tahiti, Hawaii, Pitcairn,

the Bounty

pages of a log book

the wooded slopes of Angel Island as a back drop to a cove defined to the west by a rocky outcrop.

The fog spilling over the ridge. The polite, genteel civilization in the form of Belvedere . . . just . . . over . . . there.

The stories from my grandfather's life, and the image of the cove as seen from the teak deck of a schooner.

They merge in my memory.

They fuel my imagination

Ayala Sandbox

2008-12-26T20:35:00.000-08:00

The concept of a Sandbox has been with me for as long as I can remember. I grew up in an age when your Mom took you to play in the park, and where you went was the sandbox. It was your world, and your imagination was the only thing that limited you.

They say that your conscious memories begin around age five. Standing on the deck of the Landfall II in Ayala Cove, at about that age, my world, my sandbox, was that cove on Angel Island.

I wanted to go ashore and play on the beach.

It would be years before I was able to do that.

Hussongs Bar

2008-12-26T14:40:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

I cannot remember exactly the first year that I came to Ensenada, but I would say that it was probably in or near 1919. At that time, there were only a few buildings on the main street. I can remember the bar known as Hussongs, was there and I can remember the Commercial Hotel that was either built or in the process of being built. The large Hotel Playa de Ensenada came in the 30’s and I can remember the building of that with the gambling casino and the various parties that went on in that hotel. From the first remembrance of Ensenada, I must say that it has undergone a remarkable transformation. At the present time, there are beautiful hotels along the beach. The Play de Ensenada is now called the Pacifico and although the gambling casino is musty and closed up, the beauty of that original architecture and tile still remains. It is said to see a beautiful hotel with only a few guests.

We were in, yesterday, to the Impardor Bar, which has a very interesting painting in back of the bar and has its glassware spotless and clean.

I think all bartenders are pleasant people, on the whole, and yet the Mexican bar tender seems to have a charm about him and a pleasantness that is unusual. They talk to you kindly, are helpful in trying to show you a new type of drink, and on the whole make a very pleasant afternoon, when you walk around a foreign town seeing things.

Hussongs Bar looks exactly as it did 40 years ago. I am told that it looks exactly as it did 80 years ago. As a matter of fact, the Hussong family is one of the oldest families in lower California and are most influential in every way, not only from a social, but from a financial standpoint as well. I understand that they have very large holdings including a number of motels. Some of the family resides in San Diego, but on the whole, they are still very large holder in lower California equities.

______________________________

I’m going to make this post short.

hmmm, I can hear a sigh of relief, ahhh, what's that about?

Can it be that Hussongs bar looks exactly like it did in 1953?

Several years ago, I went by my grandfather’s house. Not the one my mother remembers from her childhood, but the one Grandfather and Marilyn lived in. The one I remember from my childhood. It no longer has the magic that it had when I was young, and my grandfather was living in it.

Where is the magic in Hussongs bar?

I’ve decided to keep a list of the months of 2006, 2007 and 2008 in a spreadsheet.

There will be a column for Tillerman and another for EVK4. I’ll mark each off as I read the archives. That way perhaps I’ll avoid the convolutions that occurred when I tried to read Tillerman from beginning to present. I’ll take the months in no particular order, and just read when I feel like it, instead of trying to do it book fashion.

This also calls in question what I’m doing with my Grandfather’s log, or journal. If it is so hard to read a blog from beginning to end, then the order in which the log entries appear is going to make it tough for a blog reader to read them until I figure out how to edit the home page sidebar of Ayala Sandbox to list the entries there in chapter form.

Thankfully, Chapman is a book.

I know how to read a book.

Convolutions

2008-12-26T12:20:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

This man was well dressed, polite and smart and was most helpful. He sat down in the cabin with us, enjoyed a highball and we talked with him for about 15-20 minutes. He assured me that he was ready and willing to do anything that he could to facilitate our stay in Ensenada and to make it as pleasant as possible. It was a refreshing and unexpected experience and if the remainder of our officials are as kindly as this gentlemen, the trouble with paper work and various regulations certainly will be made easy.

______________________________

I should have added that paragraph from the journal to my previous post, but I just couldn’t pass up the ending of the entry and that start of my post: Clumsy soldiers with a fixed bayonet or two . . . Yikes!

Having a Highball with the immigration man, that is sooooo my grandfather. I think also that it defined an age as well. Greasing the skids with a little liquor, in polite company.

The history of the Landfall II, previously the
Mavourneen Mary, is one steeped in Hollywood, just as is Brigadoon.

Mavourneen Mary (My Darling) was originally built by Boeing for Jane, as in Tarzan and Jane.

But that’s not what this post is about.

My mind is very convoluted. It probably shows up in my writing style. Sailing for me is the antidote. It is not how I started, it’s not what drew me to it, but one day while in college I reflected on why I loved it so much. As I recall, my Tornado crew asked me “what do you find so special about sailing?” during a break in training one day as we were parked just west of the Berkeley Olympic Circle.

Much later in life, I’d experience ‘heaving to’ on a J105 to ‘serve breakfast’, while sailing with one of the OCSC members and her crew, which included 'Chicken Jibe James' in a supporting role.

But that’s another story.

Back in my college days, it was a wonder to me how you could park a Tornado in any wind or sea condition. Sheet the jib on the wrong side, sheet the fully battened main in tight at the leeward end of the traveler, and put both rudders over at their stops. Stick the tiller extension under the jib sheet wire, and you are now a stationary raft (with a 35 ft fully battened storm sail). The forward force of the wind completely balanced any leeward drift or wind drag. Perfectly stable in any wind or sea condition, even a ‘typical’ day in the slot with 4 foot chop, 10 foot swells and 25 knot winds. Somehow ‘heaving to’ any other boat just doesn’t compare to ‘parking’ the Tornado, stretching out on the trampoline and resting your back on the boom.

While other fleets reached back and forth between races, we just found a quiet corner of the race course and parked.

Convolution – it takes nothing for my mind to jump from Tarzan and Jane to Olympic Sailing to a Death Roll.

But as I explained to my crew - When I’m sailing a dinghy on the bay, I’m totally focused. The rest of my life, the world, anything and everything gets left behind, and I’m totally in the moment when sailing. I can remember looking east that day, taking in the sweep of the view from Richmond, Brooks Island, Berkeley, the Oakland hills, to the Bay Bridge, and Treasure Island, and not recognizing what being ashore was like. Totally in the moment on the water.

Here at the computer, typing away, my thoughts swirl and I grasp at the threads of thought that got me to the middle of this post.

What was I thinking?

Oh Yes!

My quest to read Tillerman’s post, from his earliest to his latest, was interrupted this morning when I made the mistake of clicking on his 2006 archive and finding myself in December (without thinking) instead of January. As I read through the December of 2006 posts, starting at the bottom, I found myself skipping through the posts. I just couldn’t read them all. But the ‘Email from Mark Hammett’ post led to ‘Worth Doing Badly’ and eventually to the ‘Ham-it-up! Capri 25 Sailing Round Down’ video.

I read everything, and I was struck by a couple of thoughts.

These thoughts were heightened by Joe Cool’s video of Big Boat Knock Down.

I’ve spent my life sailing on San Francisco Bay; from an El Toro to Brigadoon on the wooden boat axis, a Lido 14 to an Olympic Tornado on the plastic axis. I’ve been from the tip of a bowsprit (yeah, that's me, 'Bowman John' in my younger days) to the ass end of a boomkin. From being dragged across a finish line while holding on to a centerboard, to the top of a mainmast on a schooner. I’ve windsurfed, trapezed, and been a monkey on a foredeck in the St. Francis Big Boat Series on Maxi’s. And yet, I still have much, much more to experience.

One of the many things I have not experienced is a Death Roll on anything larger than a 505 - there is still one of those out there with my name on it. When I put the chute up on a J105, I am ever, ever vigilant.

Perhaps if Mark wants to go come out west and go sailing with me . . .

If you’ve read this blog from the beginning, you’ll recognize that being the ‘Captain’ of an OCSC chartered boat is a relatively new experience for me. I like to say that 90% of my sailing life has been as a crewmember, (maybe 40% as 'bowman' hee hee) not the ‘Captain’.

Mark Hammett’s email is gold. It does not matter what you sail. It matters that you sail. To expose sailors to the sport, to help them along the way - Mark Hammett and Tillerman ROCK! - To introduce a crew to a death roll, albeit accidentally, capture it on video and offer it up to the world. Way to go Mark.

So what if armchair sailors can’t help but reveal their own ignorance to the world through comments on blogs about Mark’s Capri 25 experiences or Tillerman’s sunfish experiences.

Whether you come into the sailing world on the deck of a ship or the deck of a sunfish, the important thing is to experience the joy of the wind, waves and water.

An extremely important lesson I’ve learned through my OCSC crewlist experiences is that of being ‘skipper of record’. At OCSC, crews typically pool their money to charter a boat from the fleet. The fleet has everything from J24’s to a Caliber 40 to a Mahe 36.

While everybody typically shares the cost, only one individual can be the one solely financially and morally liable for the outing. The concept of ‘Captain’ is an important one. In the final analysis, the Captain is the final authority, and has the final responsibility.

For that day, on that boat.

People handle it differently.

My grandfather was known as 'skipper', and he took Landfall II around the world.

I'll be 'Captain' John, Bowman John, Crewman John, Foredeck John, or any other position on any boat and just love being on the wind, waves and water. I've been a 'Tillerman' with me, myself, and I as crew.

OCSC is very effective in training, they’ve created a set of rules and guidelines, and a stair step approach to certification. I challenged the certification process at the BBC level, and vaulted to the top of the stairs in one leap to avoid the cost associated with all the training. I've come to realize that it's doable, but not advisable.

There is a fellow member of OCSC that I sometimes refer to (affectionately) as ‘Chicken Jibe James’, the chicken jibe being one of the skills that OCSC teaches their BC and BBC students. It’s even described in Wikipedia as an alternative to jibing - just after Wikipedia presents the Dangers (worth a review).

James is good at it and practices it. He practices all the things he’s learned at OCSC. He’s done 100+ charters. He provides everyone he sails with the opportunity to practice the skills as well. It’s a little dull and rigid for most, and as far as I know he isn't spinnaker certified, so he doesn't fly it, but there is something there.

I sometimes think that if I sailed with James, more, I’d learn everything that OCSC teaches in BC and BBC, including the responsibilities of being ‘Captain’, which is something I kind of took for granted, thinking that experience on the water is what being ‘Captain’ is all about.

That it would translate from experience. - WRONG!

It’s one of the reasons I’m reading Chapman cover to cover, and attempting to read the total of Tillerman’s blogs. There is always something to learn about sailing. A lifetime is not enough.

I watched Mark’s video over and over again. Pausing and then restarting at the most dangerous moments during the Death Roll and Woman Overboard.

There was a fellow (Mark?) on the starboard side who looked like disappeared in the video, only to reappear on the new windward side. When I saw the video for the first time I couldn’t imagine how he didn’t get knocked overboard. It finally dawned on me that he crossed prior to the uncontrolled jibe. He crossed the traveler, then made his way to the new windward side around the mainsheet as ‘windward’ became ‘leeward’ – instantly.

The beauty of the video is you can go through it again and again, see each crew member at each location, and study how they reacted and what sort of challenge they were confronted with. I love that Mark is willing to make his video available to clubs and training centers.

I’ve been in every possible position, and in the last year, that of ‘Captain’.

Tillerman is focused on laser sailing (when not running marathons or playing with his grandchild). There is nothing wrong with that, he’s ‘Captain’ of his Laser, if something goes wrong, he is the only one to shoulder the responsibility, just as the Captain of a Capri 25 is the only one who can shoulder the responsibility of that craft – whether or not he/she is helmsman/woman.

There was a year in the heyday of the west coast dinghy sailing decade. During that year of the 70’s we lost several sailors. One, I think it was a Finn sailor, who died racing in Monterey Bay, when struck by the boom. It was said that he was dead before he hit the water.

This is a convoluted post. Mark’s video was a convoluted jibe (and MOB recovery).

I am totally focused when sailing. My experiences over the last year have challenged my focus. Not so much challenged my confidence, but the experiences have pointed out the value in a humble nature. In a way, I’m searching for the humble nature in my larger than life grandfather through his journal.

There have been so many times when I’ve returned to the dock, the boat is put away, and everyone relaxing in the club house. The crew is thinking, and saying “That was GREAT!”, and I’m thinking “Whew! Cheated death again”, and sobered at the innocence of the souls that were in my care.

It’s difficult when ‘Captain’ of a sailing vessel. There is so much that you have to keep track of. Things can happen in the blink of an eye, and you stand alone to bear the responsibility. You can not take that lightly.

Whether you are on a Laser, a Capri 25, or a tall ship.

A-p-parent What?

2008-12-23T19:34:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

We arrived in Ensenada arbor at about 9:10 am, on October 20, 1953. The harbor has been much improved since I was here last. There is a large jetty, extending out from the point and instead o a long lazy swell, there is no excellent anchorage with almost no motion at all in Ensedada Harbor. Likewise, a new pier has been built. The fish canneries have been greatly enlarged and there are a number of sport fishing boats as well as small coastwise freighters that are anchored in the harbor.

There were a number of American boats that were anchored when we came in. One small ketch that was called the SilverGull. A 50 foot cruiser from Los Angeles and a small sloop from some place or other. He has skull and cross bones black flag at his stern and apparently is some sort of peculiar person, who have chosen to avoid at least until the time of this writing.

The Mexican official that came aboard was entirely different than any Mexican official I have previously contacted. He was well dressed, polite, spoke English and was no accompanied by several hangers on. He was the immigration officer and did all that was necessary for the captain of the port as well as the customs officials.

My previous experience has been that you have three officials and they usually bring along with them two or three soldiers, who sometimes have shoes and sometimes not. They, always, however, have very large chevrons and most often carry a fixed bayonet or two, in a rather clumsy fashion.

______________________________

Clumsy soldiers with a fixed bayonet or two . . . Yikes!

So here is a clumsy attempt at humor, and a story about bayonet like bows-

I’ve decided that I’m going to turn Tillerman’s propensity for self promotion on its head. He shamelessly places links to past posts (usually recently past posts) on his current posts. I guess this enhances his traffic numbers. It must because I follow them all and have a great time.

What ever floats his little boat. He he

In one of his comments, he says he hardly ever goes back and reads his own posts - meaning, his really old posts, like, from 2005.

Now EVK4 is going back to his old posts, like from 2005, see his comments on my recent post. So I'm going to shamelessly promote one of EVK4's old posts, and challenge Tillerman to write a post on Apparent Wind, from the laser sailors point of view.

For me, sailing is past, future and present. And my past goes way back. Not as far back as EVK4’s young son, but close. I’m having a great time reading Tillerman, and EVK4 (and Chapman).

This reading brings to life many of my memories. Some day I’ll describe what it was like to go to the dark side and begin crewing for a speed freak on a Tornado, only to find myself on a trampoline with a fashion model in a knit bikini.

But EVK4’s April 20, 2005 post turns over a rock that has been sitting still for 26 years.

And it is applicable to my current sailing experiences. I’m having a ball sailing with members of OCSC. They are drinking very deeply from the cup of learning. Most of the ones I sail with are somewhere in their own personal journey to accomplish their own sailing goals. My only sailing goal is to sail, and sail, and sail, preferably with Admiral Anne and Nature Girl, and well, anyone else with a sense of humor.

Hey Edward, you want crew? I'm a click away!

Tillerman, when are you going to get off your silly little boat and bring your sense of humor to the wild, warm, west coast? We can pop the chute on a J105 in the slot and go for a wild ride without finding a death roll with or without our names on it.

Where was I?

Oh yes, the day I completely understood Apparent v. True Wind.

I found myself on my Tornado 26 years ago, in THE SLOT, on a January day, with NO WIND, and an EBB current.

Yet I was able to sail against the 5 knot current to return 'up river' to Richmond Yacht Club, before the it switched to a Flood. Even with no wind. Zip. Nada

Chapman explains apparent wind by comparing a Spanish Galleon to an Ice Boat (on page 276 of the 65th edition – look it up, it’s a cool way to explain it).

A Tornado is much closer to an ice boat than a Spanish Galleon, Newport 28, or a Laser. All I had to do was turn the hulls 90 degrees to the ebb current, and the apparent wind generated was able to accelerate the speedy racing machine. Chapman explains that a boat will accelerate until the drag forces equalize the imbalance of the forces acting on the center of effort and the center of lateral resistance. A cool way to describe how and why a sailboat moves through the water with magical ease (assuming the crew knows what they are doing).

The really, really cool thing is that as apparent wind accelerates a boat, you can adjust your point of sail and sail trim to keep the acceleration going, until drag stops your acceleration. Which is why certain very cool racing craft can sail faster than the wind, sometimes (like ice boats) much, much faster, other times (like the Tornado) just faster.

Lucky for me on that day, a Tornado has very, very little drag. It also tracks like a train on rails. I discovered that the rudders will cavitate and ventilate under certain conditions; making it a little tricky to turn up or down when on a beam reach in the slot coming up on Pt. Blunt like a speeding bullet. After the ‘girl in half a wetsuit’ incident at Pt. Blunt, I learned to give that rocky outcrop a wide berth.

There are tricks you can use to eliminate more drag on a light wind day. You can raise both your rudders and your centerboards. You can tilt trim the boat so that it is ‘down by the bow’. This helps the separation of flow from the hulls at the stern. The bayonet like bows act like rudders when you change the trim.

You can check out this video - the opening sequence provides a birds eye view of those bayonet sharp bows.

Sailing without rudders? Am I nuts?

No Way! Yes Way! - the Tornado’s hulls have a CLR, even without rudders and centerboards. They are relatively very long and very narrow. It’s the balance between all the forces that result in your direction vector.

From the slot, I was able to make my way to Treasure Island (I have some pirate blood), then pick up the counter current from the south bay, East of TI, and tack my way north to RYC, using only the apparent wind generated by the tide currents.

When I stopped accelerating, I could dip into the fast ebb current in the ship channel, and use its power to create more apparent wind to recharge my acceleration curve.

It helped I was an engineering student at the time, understood all this, and had a warm, sunny January day (Tillerman, eat your heart out!) in which to play with Mother Nature.

Mother Nature was playing me by keeping all the wind to herself. I played with her by getting my craft, ‘Monkey’s Delight’ to move anyway.

It also helped that I’d crewed for John Liebenberg for a few years in the Fireball Fleet. The two John’s were unbeatable in light winds. He was a master, and I was his apprentice.

It took a few hours, but I got back to my home base even though there wasn’t a breath of wind.

A few months later, my first born came into this world.

But that’s another story.

A Smug Mug Wiped Clean

2008-12-22T14:33:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

We then set sail for Ensenada Bay, which is a distance of about 45 miles from the Coronados Islands. We had a nice breeze and sailed until about midnight, when the breeze dropped and the motor was turned on for a period of about four hours. At about 4:00 o’clock in the morning, when I came on watch, the light of Todos Santos Island, seemed rather close to us and in as much as we did not which to make the port of Ensenada before 9:00 am, we cut off our motor and sat there until daylight, when Marilyn came up and we fixed up some trolling lines to do a little fishing. I do not know what is the matter with my fishing, I have never been in southern waters so long before without catching a fish, but we trolled back and forth around the Todos Santos Islands for an hour or two and never got a strike. You could see fish jumping here and there, but still, we had no bites on the lures that we trolled astern.

Usually in this bay, the fish are voracious and all you have to do is put out a line of any kind in order to catch a fish. I am told by the people ashore that the weather has not been satisfactory and that we are in the wrong season for good fishing. There are a number of sports fishermen that go out here and se saw, yesterday, some fish that they brought in, but not very many.

________________________________

‘Skipper’ doesn’t seem to have any trouble enticing Lobsters from traps. ‘Comeuppance’ was a phrase that was used a lot during dinner table conversations at my grandfather’s table with parties and drinks afterwards.

But on to present day concerns.

I was feeling a bit smug. I’d figured out an effective way to force my way against the current as I attempt to read Tillerman’s Proper Course Blog from start to finish.

I just finished reading his 168(!) and final post of 2005 - his 'Tillerman's Top Twenty Stories of 2005'

I'm still laughing from the 167th post of 2005 - 100 things about me.

And my practice of reading a book at lunch (thankfully I eat slowly and read fastly) has been enhanced by a life long ambition I've just begun to fulfill.

As a young lad, I’d always appreciated the heft of Chapman Piloting and Seamanship. I’d visit chandeliers (yeah, I am and old bugger) and gaze longingly at the thick volume on the shelves. My longing to understand everything about ships and the sea was perhaps at its peak when I was a student at CAL. I passed over the bridge between Alameda and the hook of Ballena Bay one day. To my left was a Gaff Rigged Schooner. I couldn't resist. I knocked on the door of the house it was behind, and explained my passion for sailing originated on the deck of my grandfather’s Marconi rigged schooner. Could I perhaps take a closer look?

I signed aboard as a crew member, sanding varnishing, tarring rigging, and helping sail Brigadoon for a few years after that.

Had the great honor of being on board during the Master Mariner’s Regatta. Something I’d missed out on during my early childhood.

But I could not afford the high cost of my own copy of Chapman. I was a starving student. I was going to CAL, racing my own Tornado out of RYC, even though I had no car.

If you’ve made it this far, you now know my brain wanders the spectrum of thought. Who would believe that someone racing a Tornado, enrolled as a dual major at CAL (Mechanical and Nuclear Engineering) and preparing for the 1980 phantom Olympics would be a deck hand on a gaff rigged schooner brought to the west coast by none other than Sterling Hayden, best know for his performance in ‘Dr. Strangelove, or how I stopped worrying and learned to love the bomb.’

Back to the Present.

As an old bugger I was prompted by my second interesting encounter with the Larkspur Ferry to buy a copy of Chapman.

There’ll be posts about ‘How many ferries does it take to right a Tornado imitating a turtle’, and ‘rush hour on San Francisco Bay’ . . . one of these days.

I can’t help but tease. The ‘Ferries’ post involves a woman in half a wet suit, an exacto knife and the Coast Guard. The Coast Guard got their woman, I got to single hand my craft back to RYC with a broken rudder fitting. Good thing Catamarans have a 'spare' rudder. This youtube video demonstrates why Tornados only use one rudder at the time. So to this day, I still get a smug feeling about single handing my boat back to the yacht club on one rudder, and beating the coast guard boat to the dock.

Lucky for me, I broke the starboard rudder fitting - it was a Starboard tack on a close reach all the way back in 20 knot winds. Since Tornado class rules limited you to a single trapeze in those days, I forgot all about my lovely half dressed crew in the clutches of the coasties. I was by my lonely, blissful self hanging it all out as I flew above the waves on the circle.

When sailing with women on board, I learned that exciting rides in fast wet boats sometimes lose out to Coast Guard Vessels with heaters on board after a swim in the bay. There was no second date for me, perhaps one of the coasties got lucky.

But back to Chapman: The 65th edition is 928 pages long. I couldn't wait. As I read the history of the book, the forward, the preface, the flyleaf’s, I came upon a description of someone who had the distinguished honor to be among the few who had read ‘Chapman’ cover to cover.

That is like a carrot on a stick to a mule like me. – I’m on page 333, Anchoring Techniques.

The humor inherent in Tillerman’s writing is like carrot cake to an overweight diabetic.

Not an apt description for me, thank God, it’s just that I don’t want to reuse a metaphor.

So back to the inspiration for this post.

The smugness on my mug was wiped clean as I turned the corner on reading the last of Tillerman’s posts for 2005, returned to his home page and went down the incredibly long sidebar. I noticed for the first time he had 376 posts in 2006 – groan.

______________________

P.S. Me and my Tornado were only a trial horse for a friend who seriously had a chance in the Phantom 1980 Olympics - Damn you!, Damn you all to Hell! Mr. Carter! - But I got married and discovered sex, so I guess it all worked out in the end.

Lobster Thieves

2008-12-21T19:21:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

I though it would be very nice if we had some lobster and knowing that the people had plenty, went to the beach in order to by some. I also too several heads of lettuce, some tomatoes and cucumbers, which I am sure were usable by the people that accepted them. I then asked if I could buy some lobsters and they gave me the same old story that you hear in Mexico, “manna sequreo” which mean tomorrow of course. As a matter of a fact, the only people who were present were young men and boys who could not man the skiffs and let us get some lobsters, so that we went back to the boat, hoisted the skiff aboard and had our dinner.

At 3:00 o’clock, it was very dark, except for a small moon that came up over the edge of the cliff inside of the cove and strangely enough we found that the Landfall had drifted very close to one of the lobster receptacle that was anchored in the cove. Another very strange occurrence was that there were six of the lobsters that seemed to be very lonely in their care and in one fashion or another transferred themselves to the deck of the Landfall, where we received them gratefully and put them in a sack.
_________________________________

My grandfather is a man who was bigger than life. I have mixed feelings about the above entry in his journal. Was the lobster transfer an aquatic jail break, or simple thievery?

On a different subject:

Tillerman challenged us to a writing quest.

This is my first attempt at fulfilling one of his challenges.

My entry in this challenge is the following:

"This post is simply the best because it is the beginning of something special, and I enjoy the start of something huge".

Wasting Time South of the Border

2008-12-21T17:47:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

In order to waste time getting between San Diego and Ensenada, we decided to anchor at the South Coronado Island for dinner. We anchored there in a cove in the south island which is the property of Mexico at about 5:00 o’clock. There were about 3 or 4 fishermen, as well as some floating lobster pots, where they kept the lobster that they had obtained from the previous days fishing and had not yet taken to market.

On this island, there is a very amazing set of buildings that arise almost directly from the edge of the cove and extend upward for a distance of about three stories above the surging water of the cove. As a matter of fact, there are two such buildings containing in all, one would assume 3 or 4 room apartments. Directly above this, on the cliff, is the Mexican lighthouse, which operated the light for the southern part of the island.

_________________________________

I've searched the web for information on South Coronado Island, in particular to see if I can come up with the kind of information (and photos) that I placed in the Sheep and Skulls and Submarine Nets Post. I've discovered that the amazing set of buildings was, at one time, a casino. Hmmm. I've also discovered the strange tale of the war time activities of the founder of the church of Scientology. Neither of these things warrant a link, if you want to find them (I can't imagine why), you can google it yourself.

I've held off my posting because I hoped to include some photos in this post.

But after finding The Skips Blog and Proper Course, and EVK4, I've been amazed at how effective and entertaining a good blog can be. With or without photos. So I'm not going to hold off posting just because I don't have images to share. It's time to get on with my grandfather's story as he sails south of the border.

I like Tillerman's blog so much that I've searched back into the archives of his, so I can read the blog postings month by month. I've worked my way through all of his 2005 posts. I've got three more years worth of reading.

Hmm, three years of Laser racing efforts to read as quick as possible (so I can get on to EVK4). I amazed that I'm not being put to sleep! He moves from his experiences on the race course to the clubhouse, to other venues to marathon training. With a good humor in every post.

I'm not going to be getting much sleep.

Admiral Anne came down from Redding to sail. She's a little concerned about my addiction to reading the sailing blogs I've discovered.

She sailed on Friday, and on Saturday, it was raining and not too warm today, so we didn't to sail today as we had planned. We hung out at the OCSC Clubhouse for a little bit, went over the sailing section of Chapman's Piloting and Seamanship (I gave her a copy for Christmas). Silly me! I thought it would answer many of her questions. One good answer leads to another good question. Oops! a lot of good answers seem to lead to a lot of good questions.

It's a good thing I like inquisitive minds.

Pondered Bernoulli's principle. It still doesn't make sense to me how flowing air can be lower pressure than the surrounding static air. There must be a pressure gradient for air blown out of one's mouth towards static air. The pressure must be greatest near your lips, and then slack off towards the static pressure of the room air, in order for your breath to physically move from high pressure to low pressure.

She's reading a book on sail trim, they use a mouthful of air blown across a piece of paper held between two fingers to demonstrate the principle.

I was a good thing we had the OCSC clubroom to ourselves for most of the day. We looked kind of silly blowing air across napkins.

The J105 'Energy' came in from a quick sail out to Angel Island and back. They said they averaged 7 knots without the spinnaker in the rain. They were wet, no longer cold, and very happy as they pealed off their gear.

Before I post this, a quick Tip of the Hat to Scheherazade. In Tillerman's post on Practice in November of 2005, he included a link to her Teaching Instinct post.

It was an email from Scheherazade, and The Hat from Admiral Anne that got this blog started

Thanks be to the both of you.

Border Crossing

2008-12-20T11:23:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

At about that time, our well wishers descended upon us. They amounted, I would say to about 10 to 15 people in all, some of whom would accept a highball if we gave it to them. And as a matter of fact, passed out highballs to the people that came as well as ourselves, congratulating ourselves on the fact that we were finally getting underway for our long trip.

Dr. Dean Smith from New York had arrived two days before and much of his gear was still not put away so that added to the confusion. After taking leaving of San Diego and the cheerful group that came down there to see us off, I am more convinced than ever that the time to leave is in the middle of the night when no one knows that you are going. Certainly you are much more ready to leave at that time, than you are with a group of bottles and unwashed glasses, ready to get up you sails and start to sea.

Our trip through the silver gate, which the opening of San Diego Harbor is called, we were accompanied by my brother in-law, Paul Hartley in his PC. As a matter of fact, they sailed past the point tip of Point Loma to the ball buoy with us and finally gave us a cheer on our way. It was a beautiful day in southern California. The weather was warm and the breeze was just enough to push us along at about 5 knots and not dump over the spare gear that had not been properly stowed.

______________________________________________________

When I started this blog, it was to chronicle both my grandfather's trip around the world, and for the thoughts in my head to find a place. - to flow from my mind through my arms, hands, and eventually find their way to my fingertips and from there the keys to the world.

I'm at a point now in the journal where my Grandfather crosses the border into Mexican Waters.

I was up until 3 am last night, crossing a border of my own. I didn't know where this blog would take me- I still don't. It's a post by post endeavor, with my Grandfather's journey as a backbone to keep me going. My resolve is to continue to post until my Grandfather's story is told in full. I'm great at starting things, but not so good at the finish. Somewhere along the way, I get distracted and . . .

So this is a great place to segue, to stay on my own proper course.

In the spring and summer of 2005, Tillerman, the author of the blog 'Proper Course' was going through some introspection. A laser sailor, a fellow who has been exploring the joy of sailing for many years, started to kick it up a notch.

He started to practice starting.

The border I've crossed, the start I've just made in parallel to my Grandfather's border crossing is to begin to read some of the great sailing blogs. Admiral Anne and I were reading 'The Skips Blog', and a comment by Tillerman on that Blog got me over to his. I'm now spending about 6 hours a day, trying to catch up, to get current on 'The Skips Blog', 'Proper Course', and 'EVK4 SuperBlog' .

Just like the start of a yacht race, the fundamental strategy is to get clear air. Sailboats need clear air. The recent collision between MF and 'Stann by' may have been just as much a matter of 'Stand by' getting caught up in the 'dirty' air of the Maltese Falcon, as any of the other speculations.

So I'm looking at Proper Course as my own version of 'clear air', as I try to read all of Tillerman's posts from his very first to his latest. Then, like a sailboat in a race along a proper course, I'll reach off downwind by skipping through his top ten list.

Tillerman has a fantastic sidebar on his blog. His Top Ten Blog list, and More Boating Blogs is like the Golden Gate to me. I feel like I'm about to sail under that 'border' and discover a whole new world.

Thanks, Tillerman!

Inspired . . . or not!

2008-12-13T18:27:00.000-08:00

From the Log . . .

On Monday, the 19th of October, 1953, we left San Diego, at about 12:15. Before leaving, we went up to a commission house and purchased as many fresh vegetables and fruits as we thought that we could carry. These included a sack of potatoes, a sack of onions, case of lettuce, case of tomatoes, half a case of squash, half a case of cucumbers, lemons and cranberries and a case of cantalope. In commission houses, things look so good that you usually buy more than you can possibly use and yet when you are leaving the United States, you are leaving the most wonderful fresh commodities that can be obtained anywhere. They are not only good in their quality, but are so packaged and graded that they keep well and are a source of delight, when you get to a place where they are not obtainable.

In addition to that we filled up in diesel oil for the main engine, on gasoline for the generator, kerosene for the stove and had a couple of extra tanks and water put aboard, because any water that you put in your tanks should be boiled. This sounds like a simple process and yet if you have ever tried to boil a 15 gallon tank of water you will realize, first of all how difficult it is to get it to the boiling point and how difficult it is to handle once it is in boiling condition. As a matter of fact it takes about ½ a day to get a tank of 15 gallons of water from the shore to the boat to boil it and finally to put it in the tanks.

The extra 15 gallon drums that we brought for this purpose, were kindly donated by Mr. Carig, who is the pacific coast manager for the Republic Steel Corporation.

Another chore on the day of leaving is to obtain the necessary clearance papers for a foreign port. You have a broker for that purpose, who is generally located nearing the custom house. We obtained papers, including a sanitary report of the City of San Diego and a certificate that we had no rats aboard. Just how the United States Inspector could tell that none of our crew were rats, I do not know, but at least they gave us a clear bill of health. I suspect that we have a couple of rats aboard, but at least they are not for official cognizance.

We not only obtained clearance papers for Ensenada, Baja California, but we also obtained them for the canal zone and obtained papers that we can use when we come back into the United States. One would assume that for American Citizens, it would be easy and cheap to get back into the United States, but believe it or not I am still nursing a grudge for the immigration officials for sending us a bill for $19.40, to be certain that they were all American citizens that came from Honolulu to Oakland on our last trip. Why in the world, Mr. McCarran and his act had to send a naturalization and immigration officer to every small boat that comes in from Hawaii is more than I can tell you. I have never heard of such a thing, but the official came aboard and at the present time I am in receipt of the bill from the naturalization and immigration service that was required when we sailed from Honolulu.

In addition to the commission house stores, we finally went to a super market and went up and down the isles picking up things that we thought would be of use. These included about 25 loaves of bread, several pounds of butter, 10 dozen eggs, half a wheel of Tillamook cheese, 1 bologna, 1 salami and numerous other boxes. As a matter of fact, as we put all of this stuff aboard about 11:00 am, the whole cabin was full of boxes, crates and other materials that needed very badly to be put away.

___________________________

After more than a month with my laptop dead (presumed dead that is), and the log entries trapped on the hard drive, it took a little inspiration to get me to start the process of debugging the dead laptop, with an expected result of pulling the hard drive out and securing it in a USB enclosure.

This post is about that inspiration.

I went sailing yesterday with Nature Girl. She lives up by Joaquin Miller Park in the Oakland hills. I am so jealous, (not really), but it's a really cool place, created by a very quirky poet guy with great hair and a cool beard.

She is gaining some valuable experience at the helm, and I'm crewing for her. She'd probably describe it differently, but that is the way I see it.

Before we left the dock however, there were a pair of OCSC members doing a review. One of them I thought I knew, but it took a while for the tumblers to drop into place before I realized where I'd met her. OCSC had sponsored a trip to the Spaulding Boat Works - another really cool place. The Gaff Rigged Sloop Freda is being completely restored there. Echo, the Farallon Clipper I race on was designed by Spaulding but built elsewhere.

During the tour, we'd gotten a chance to go aboard a gaff rigged wooden sloop which was a sister ship to Freda. I belive it was Polaris.

I'd literally 'bumped' into this Boat Works Girl as were exploring the interior of the sloop.

It seemed like they'd finished their review.

Nature Girl and I went and we played in the waves and strong currents, the Angel Island wind shadow, and eventually made our way back in. As we neared the harbor, it looked like the review was still in progress, but now with only one student. As NG and I put the boat away, the other J24 came into the slip, the instructor helped with getting the main taken care of, then left the rest to the the boat works girl I'd met.

The other student was no where to be seen.

After our boat was put away, and everything stowed away in our cars, and NG had gone home, I went back to the dock to see if BWG needed any help. The sun had gone down and it was dark. The tide was as low as it ever gets (-1.9 ft!).

She was there and I reintroduced myself. When we discussed how the review had gone, she mentioned something that got me thinking.

She described herself as someone who really responds to clear direction, that ambiguity is not something she's comfortable with. We talked some more, and I learned she worked in the IT field. Cool, a Brainy Woman who likes old wooden boats.

Today as I rolled things around in my head, it occurred to me that sailing is analog, not digital.

The points of sail are very much a continuum. A boat moves through the water at an angle to both the wind and to the flow of water around the hull.
And the water can be flat, or moving up and down - and everything in between.

Often sailing properly is as much a feeling as anything else.

When you get out of sync with it, you have a bad day.

Sailors talk about a groove, especially going up wind. At that point of sail, it's easier to 'feel' the boat slow down when you get too high, speed up when you head 'down'. When off the wind, with the wind on the beam, if you are in the groove, with the sails set just right, in trim, heading up or falling off slows you. The boat doesn't heel as much.

It is a little harder to feel this, but go too far either way and it becomes a bit more obvious.

On a broad reach, things are very analog, and rather flat at that. Turning up or turning down, being a little out of trim, doesn't feel much different. In light air, it's hard to know when you are in the groove. Harder still to feel that you are in the danger zone, where an uncontrolled gibe is just waiting to separate your head from your shoulders.

To lose all confidence. For you, the student to lose confidence that you know what you are doing. For the instructor to lose confidence in the you being able to not kill him or her. For you to lose confidence in the instructor keeping things safe.

Very suddenly sailing seems digital.

But it's not, it's analog.

It doesn't help that to pass a practical test, you have to perform a MOB, a Man Over Board test. You have to snap into a beam reach when the 'Man' goes over, then do the big tack, and then --- Oh NO! ---- go to a broad reach where it is so hard to feel the groove. Then head up and place your less than responsive vessel next to the 'Man Over Board'. Right next to it, so you can get 'Him' out of the water.

Earlier in the day, my friend and I were working on this. Not on MOB drills, but just sailing through the waves, on a deep broad reach, sometimes dead down wind. With the spinnaker up, and getting the feel of that analog, flat spot. Getting the feel of the middle of the flat spot. Staying inspired, rather than not. Staying not terrified of a uncontrolled gibe

We were blessed with a light breeze, and some wave action that spiced it up a bit. There was lots of time to talk it through, for the helmsperson to get the feel of what the waves were doing to the boat, what very slight corrections were needed in light air to keep it all in the inspirational zone. To keep it in the 'groove'.

Reflecting on the analog nature of sailing, on the inspiration that comes from being in the groove, and the 'not inspired' feeling of being out of the groove and having a bad day led me to troubleshoot my 'dead' laptop, and get this blog back on track.

I wish to thank both Nature Girl, and the Brainy Boat Works Girl frustrated with being 'not inspired' by the her OCSC BC Practical Test, for triggering this post, and getting my Blog back on it's groove.

Where I am - Confused

2008-11-01T19:00:00.001-07:00

From the Log . . .

The log entries are trapped on a hard drive in a dead laptop. Log entries will continue when I can surgically remove the hard drive and plug it into another laptop. (Sigh)

Meanwhile, some really cool confusion has set in. I bought a Garmin Oregon 400t GPS unit and Bluecharts. At some point I'll delve into the trials and tribulations surrounding getting it all working together and getting my self trained in it's use. At this point I think I know how to use it, but haven't figured out how to solve the chicken and egg experience of finding which waypoint symbols work best on the small color map of the GPS unit. It's very easy to make the chart in MapSource, but in the process of transferring updating and displaying the waypoints, it's all a little confused, with multiple waypoints with different symbols overlaid on top of each other.

Meanwhile, I've created routes and waypoints and am anticipating a confused and frustrating learning experience tomorrow as I take it out and try to use it under 'real' circumstances.

Here is a close up of one portion of the chart with the confusion removed.

On the next post I should have a cool chart of a route, with the track of our sailing adventure on the same page.

Stay tuned.

But before I post this blog, I want to mention that a spouse of a friend is currently out in the Atlantic Ocean off Virgina Beach racing in NARC with a GPS locator. As of right now, this is what his positions look like:

The link to that page is:

http://share.findmespot.com/shared/faces/viewspots.jsp?glId=0IgBv3G8fOn5SkhadpgPdmkhaVB4QNONN

I couldn't help but reflect on the history of how the world has been flattened between Sept. 1953 and now. Somewhere in my garage is a paper map with my Grandfather's noon positions marked on it during his trip. That chart had to make it home before anyone could look at it.

Now . . .

Bad Dreams

2008-10-09T19:21:00.000-07:00

From the Log . . .

Another day of great interest was where we were taken by the Vaughns out to their mountain house near Jacumba, a distance of about 75 miles from San Diego. It is on the road to the Mexicalli and is a desert type of country at an altitude of about 3,000 feet. The hills are covered with rocks, but there are a few small patches of cactus and sage brush here and there.

While we were at the house, Bert fixed us up with what he calls a mulligan with many kinds of meat and as says, 72 kinds of vegetables. There were several pieced of meat that Bert said came from a burrow, which he had killed sometime before and had impounded in the earth in order to soften up a little. This makes the burrow mulligan very great, and after a couple of drinks, you don’t care whether you are eating burrow, rabbit, chicken or whatever he has in the concoction. Needless to say, it was excellent in taste and we ate so much, that finally we all laid down and had a little sleep after lunch.

While we were in the mountains, Marilyn had her first experience with shooting a rifle. We had a rifle given to us by my nephew Bill Hartley. It was a 22, beautiful little rifle and one that easy to use. Marilyn had a chance to shoot at a target and later go out and try to shoot jackrabbits. The three of us went out and actually saw five jackrabbits and took several shots at them, but were not close enough or accurate enough to bring in any game. It is just as well because jackrabbits are practically unusable except in mulligan or stew where they are boiled over a period of several weeks. I think the best thing to do with them is to bury them some place in the earth.

Back to the present:

We greeted the announcement with glee – OCSC was going to extend the WNS through October! Yeah! I quickly logged on and booked Xpression for each of the 5 Wednesday nights in the month. Then the bad news: my charters for 10/1, 10/15, 10/29 were canceled for lack of water.

Lack of water? What the . . .

It was explained to me that when the low tide falls below 2ft above the mean low tide, there is not enough water for Xpression to get out of the slip and harbor. This year, the month of October is plagued with low tide nights. On those days the low tide mark falls within the hours of the Wednesday Night Sailing event. The J105s have the same problem. So no joy on those nights, unless . . . I could get on a J24 that planned to fly the spinnaker, or get spinnaker certification myself and charter a J/24 for those evenings.

On 10/1 the tide looked like this:

The above chart comes from WWW Tide and Current Predictor:

http://tbone.biol.sc.edu/tide/tideshow.cgi?site=Berkeley%2C+California&units=f

The chart was created by the “XTide: Harmonic tide clock and tide predictor” See the following link:

http://www.flaterco.com/xtide/index.html

So looking at the chart, the low tide is: ~ .13 ft at 8:07 pm

What does this mean? It means that if the depth of the water shown on the chart is 5 ft, then at 8:07 pm, it is going to be 5.13 ft. If the boat draws 6 ft, then you’d better hope that the bottom in that area is mud, because the bottom of the boat is going to be sitting in it, or hitting it if there is anyplace near where you are that is only 5 ft deep. There are a couple of spots on the chart where there are 5 ft Shoals. They happen to be right outside the breakwater:
And furthermore, water in these kinds of places tend to silt up, so don't expect there to be as much water as the chart says. I've been stuck in the mud on Xpression just inside the breakwater before near where the chart soundings indicate 7 to 10 ft. Of course that when we had no battery, no lights, no engine (and one of us was wearing sunglasses at night . . . but that's a different story)

Xpression is a C&C 110, its specs are:

LOA 36.36', LWL 31.5, Beam 12'

Draft:

Deep-keel 7.25', Standard 6', Shoal 4.83'

Displacement 10,900 lbs., Sail Area 705.75 sq. ft.

The depth transducer is somewhere below the water line, but who knows how it’s been set up. Does it display the depth below the transducer, or the depth below the keel? What keel is on the boat?

So having the charter canceled is ok, there really wasn’t enough water at the time we’d be coming back to the harbor to not touch the bottom.

I joined up with Ray, Leigh and Polly and went sailing with them on a J24. Heading out, the sky was ablaze as the sun sunk behind some high clouds to the west. I stood in the companionway and fished out my camera. Getting off a few quick shots, I managed to catch the reflection of the sun off the wet foredeck. Several waves came over the bow and everyone was sprinkled with spray. I got my camera wet, and nervously tried to wipe it off. We approached and passed XOC, and the sky to the north was highlighted, literally, by clouds stretching out like arms reaching across the sky.

Another wave sent a cascade of water towards the cockpit, and I stowed the camera, as dry as I could, back in my foul weather gear, after catching a misty view of XOC in the camera lens.

We finished our upwind climb, headed back with the chute up, the sun down, and darkness all around.

I was freaking out later that night, dreaming that the funny spots on the camera’s display were drops of salt water on the image chip. Looking at the photos after uploading them to my laptop the next day, the spots were gone. The nightmare was but a bad dream.

Lobster Boil

2008-10-09T19:14:00.000-07:00

From the Log . . .

We had one very ruckus evening at Rosa Rita Beach in Lower California. Harvey Craig and his wife came down from Pasadena to see us and we decided to go down to Rosa Rita Beach, get some lobsters, and have a lobster boil on the beach. Time passes very rapidly when plans of this kind are being made. We later found ourselves in the Hotel Cortes in the Craig’s room, where we had a couple of more drinks.

They had not brought any beach clothes, so that they had to go out and buy beach clothes which they did in a rather alcoholic fashion and ended up in a most amusing and fancy costumes that you could imagine.

We did not arrive in Tijuana until about 4:00 o’clock and could not find any lobsters except those that we bought, at a very high price, in one of the best restaurants in Tijuana. The way we were feeling at that time, after a few bottles of Tequila and a case of beer in the car did not make much difference.

We then went down to the beach at Rosa Rita, getting there at almost dusk. The fire wood was hard to find, but that did not seem to make much difference to us, in our attitude of gaiety and with the profusion of beer, tequila and other alcoholic spirits that were brought. We finally got our fire going, boiled up in a big wash tub, the lobsters that we had, wrapped some potatoes in foil paper and put them in the coals and finally sat down to a mixture of beer and tequila, lobsters so hot that they burnt your hands and potatoes so burnt that you could hardly recognize them as potatoes. This did not seem to matter, at this point to the group at all. We laughed and sang, and had a big time as silly people will under such a condition.

On the way home, Mrs. Craig was about the only one that could drive properly, in her car, and Mr. Vaughn drove his car. There was a bottle or so of tequila left over and a number bottles of beer that Ray Jonsson fortunately put in the back of the car in which we were riding. We did not know that it was there, or we would have thrown it out before we got to the border. However, when we got to the boarder and said that we had purchased nothing to bring back to the states, he waved us on and we went right through.

Mr. Vaughn was certain that we would be caught by the officials and waited around about 20 or 30 minutes and finally decided to go on home where we met them later.

Back to the present:

Hmm, I'm reading David Carr's Memoir "The Night of the Gun" subtitled: 'A reporter Investigates the Darkest Story of His Life, His Own'.

At one point in the narrative, he muses about what value there can be in another memoir about drug addiction. In the wake of the nonfiction/fiction memoir 'A Million Little Pieces', David Carr attempts to turn the glare of a journalist's light on his own past. He eloquently questions the role of memory and hope in life. The possible role that memory and myth play in an addicts telling of his own story.

In Dr. Holcomb's case, there is no doubt. He was an alcoholic. It is what killed him. I was living with my Grandmother (his second wife) at the time, attending UC Berkeley.

These are his journal entries, dictated to Marilyn (his third wife), who typed them up in the next port of call. So each entry is told from the perspective of recollection after a short sea passage. Although I call it a log, it is actually a journal. The sea logs of Landfall II are out there. The set from the 1937 trip to the south seas with my Mother, her Sister and my Grandmother are in my mother's possession, and the ones from the circumnavigation are in the hands of one of Marilyn's relatives.

What has struck me as I read "The Night of the Gun" is the role that social interaction plays in addiction. There is a chapter that stuns me, about the social support between addicts, who has the goods, who's holding? Sharing when there is enough, supporting each other to promote sharing when there isn't.

My Grandfather was always described as a charismatic character, but there was always drink nearby. The parties were legendary. The social scene surrounding them huge.

After asking to see the 1937-38 sea logs, I asked my Mom how she remembered Grandfather. Her reply was that she was always afraid of him. "He was the master of the silent treatment" she said. For such a charismatic, social man to not talk to you, to ignore you completely, that was scary for her, she explained.

She's known in the SF bay sailing community and has a story of her own. 'MOM's Racing Team' was a fixture at Richmond Yacht Club from the 70's to the 90's She would 'adopt' young racing sailors and induct them into her own 'hall of fame', handing them T-shirts with their class emblem, and Mom's slogan:

MOM's Racing Team: Powered by Guilt

But I can picture Grandfather on the beach with Marilyn, south of the border, drunk and happy, the life of the party. The last time I saw him, I think I was about 14. He was committed to what I think of as an insame asylum the next year, and died 7 years later, still committed. Marilyn had moved on and remarried.

I'd intended this post to be about the 9/27/2008 YRA race, and the entry of the Maltese Falcon into SF Bay on that day during the race.

When I transcribed the journal entry above, then read certain chapters of Carr's narrative, the events of the 'Lobster Boil' from my Grandfather's journal, and the events of the YRA race just don't belong together.

I think I'll post that another time, out of sequence, but not out of importance. That YRA race was more fun than a frolic on a beach, and without the substance abuse.

I'm not judgemental about this. I'll always admire my Grandfather. His memory, both in life and in death, is what keeps me firmly in the grip of the addiction of sailing, and away from the grip of the 'attitude of gaiety and with the profusion of beer, tequila and other alcoholic spirits'.

Because of him, I'll always choose the natural high, most often with the taste of saltwater in my face.

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night . . .

2008-10-08T15:58:00.000-07:00

From the log . . .

Our ten day stay in San Diego was punctuated by bursts of activity and a lot of fun. As far as the work situation was concerned, we had to pain the hull, which we did while we were lying along side of the dock. Then we went along side the ways at the Kettenburg Docks and had a new water line put on. We are laden down with food and other gear to the extent of approximately eight inches. It was necessary then, to take a machine sander, sand down all the white and blue paint around the water line and put on three coats of copper paint so that we would be protected from marine life which eats into wood below the water line.

This only took us a day. There were a number of men at the yard working on it and when we came along with our new water line, we felt a sense of security that we have not had since we loaded the boat at Oakland. During the two of three weeks that she was being loaded, it grew quite a growth of grass on the white paint that was thrust below the water level from the extra weight of the loading.

In addition to that there were a number of things to be obtained that we had forgotten. It is amazing how many things you do forget and we obtained many of those, although I find now that I am in Ensenda that we did not get several things that actually would have been useful. None of them are very important and yet the more useful things that you have, the more comfortable life becomes. I am thinking now, particularly of a small tool that makes grommet holes and puts in grommets.

Ray made a bag yesterday, to hold the portable oven, and if we had had a couple of grommets to put in, it would have been much simpler. Instead of that, he had to sew for about an hour in order to make some holes and sew a piece of rope onto the bag so that it could be hung up.

In the fun department, we had someone entertaining us practically every evening and many times at lunch. We had a lunch at the San Diego Yacht Club with my sister Lucille and her husband Jack. We had a dinner at the San Diego Yacht Club with Fred Allen of the Fairweather and his charming wife.

We were entertained at dinner by my sister Joy, and her husband Paul and we were entertained by Louise Cohn Scull and her husband Bill, at the Koni Kai Club, which is a very fancy new club built out on an artificial peninsula in San Diego Bay.

Back to the present: a dark and stormy night?

Naw, it was just a Friday evening at the end of September, with fog streaming towards the Berkeley Hills, wind and waves keeping pace in the gathering gloom.

Surprise! Genesis pulls a rabbit out of a hat!

The final Berkeley Yacht Club Beercan Race on 9/26/2008 began with the sun going down behind the hills, the fog streaming into the bay and us picking up Tim off of the guest dock after we had raised the main. We bent the small jib onto the forestay, everyone anticipating we’d have wind. The start of the race was a quick affair and we began the climb upwind towards “D” the first mark. On the charts it’s #3, the pole that marks the middle of the ruins of the Berkeley Pier and the northern side of the ship channel. It’s a black piling jutting out of the water with a green placard on it and a light to find it in the dark. It’s getting dark, not the black of night but the dark grey-green of an evening fog making it’s way to the surface of a roiling Olympic Circle seascape. Tim and I trade thoughts as to when it’s time to tack, not that it makes any difference; at the helm Paul works it out for himself, and we make a nice rounding, with boats both ahead and behind.

We are off to the north to find ‘XOC’ the Bob Klein memorial mark at the center of the circle.

The picture above was taken the next Wednesday night from a J24 when there was . . . well, visibility.

Again, Tim and I trade thoughts as to where it is exactly. There are boats ahead we can barely make out in the gloom. But it is clear to me. There, at the edge of our sight, boats are bearing away, rounding the mark and jibing. Paul is guided up and down the lay line, and we put another mark rounding behind us. We won’t be flying the spinnaker tonight; that much is clear. Paul offers me the helm, and I get the feel of directing a Ranger 33 through the rolling motion of a broad reach in heavy seas, with a wheel that seems tiny compared to that of a J105.

There is another boat behind us that handles these seas better than Genesis, and she comes from behind and almost passes us to weather. The two boats thread their way through the breakwater to catch the horn as we pass across the imaginary line that marks the finish of the race. They’ve got us by a boat length.

It was a great sailing experience. Not of the sunny, warm, just enough wind to move you along in shirtsleeves, but something else entirely.

As I’m sitting at the table, waiting for Paul and Tim to show up, the awards are announced. No bother, Genesis has never won one, so I’m half listening. As the places are called out, and Genesis in not in 6th, 5th, 4th, 3rd . . . hey 2nd would be cool!

But we weren’t second! The first two boats had been over the starting line early and disqualified. We are 1st! Paul is not there to accept the trophy, so I go up. As I sit down at the table, Paul and Tim walk into the room and sit down.

”Who won?” Asks Paul

“We did” I reply

“No, that can’t be”

“Yes, here is your trophy to prove it” I smile as I turn over the plaque.

Sweet

The look on Tim’s face is one of wonder.

Cool

Clearly Beyond the Power . . .

2008-10-07T20:04:00.000-07:00

From the log . . .

We left Catalina on the 8th of October at about 6:00 PM. We had a fair breeze and set all sails, but along about midnight, we found that it was necessary to put on the motor if we were to keep our steerage way. The night was beautifully clear, until about 4:00 o’clock in the morning, when we ran into a sudden and dense fog. We had passed the main steamer lanes, but there were a number of boats that were whistling in the fog so that we stopped the motor, took down the sails and waited for dawn to break.

We then started the motor and proceeded cautiously finally seeing Pt. Loma loom out of the fog at a distance of about 500 yards, just below the old Spanish Light House. There was no trouble then getting around the point and into the San Diego Yacht Club, where we were greeted with all sorts of friendliness during out 10 day stay at the Yacht Club. It is a most beautiful place to lay. The accommodation and berths are most comfortable and the generosity of the people is fabulous.

There is a collision of thoughts going on in my head. I'd driven from Santa Rosa back to Pleasanton around 4 am this morning and encountered fog. It was not so bad that I had to get off the road and wait, and the lights of the cars ahead and behind me, like whistling in the fog, allowed me to navigate at a safe speed.

Anne sent me a link about a collision - a post on the Sailing Anarchy site entitled:

Doom and Unmitigated Failure

Seems a Hunter 40 named ‘Stann By’ T-Boned the Maltese Falcon (MF).

*10/10 Update: According to Latitude 38,

http://www.latitude38.com/lectronic/lectronicday.lasso?date=2008-10-08&dayid=178

it was a Nordic 40 named Stand By - and there is now a great animated sequence on:

http://www.dgrin.com/showthread.php?t=107835

As the facts come out, I'll update this post.

What am I talking about? Go here to see the Sailing Anarchy page with the post on it, go here to see a sequence of photos.

If you dig deep enough, you’ll find comments and a link that get you both Tom Perkins perspective, and Peter Lyons perspective. It is a little tricky, but leave a comment on my blog - or email me at cptnjhn@gmail.com and I may restate both perspectives. It took me about an hour.

The upshot is this according to Perkins and Lyons:

Stand By and MF were sailing towards each other (that's the nautical definition of reciprocal course) with the wind from the west. Stand By on Starboard and MF on Port. MF turns up into the wind a little to place Stand By to leeward. Stand By turns up, looses control and T-bones MF.

Then I sit down to eat and read, and I come across this gem from ‘The Night of the Gun’ by David Carr:

“It was clearly beyond the power of any of us to do anything about it”

The emotions going through my head set me up for an epiphany. There are many times in our life where something bad happens, and the people on the scene just are not equipped to deal with it. It becomes very clear. It happens. It's not that someone couldn't deal with it, it is just that the people on the scene couldn't deal with it.

The situation with the MF and the Nordic 40 prompts a lot of armchair comments.

But later on in this blog, the log from the Landfall II’s trip around the world will feature sailing through a hurricane, and being pulled off a reef. I know this because I have heard the stories. I have not looked for the section of the log that deals with those events; I’m just going encounter it when I get there as my Grandfather did.

The helmsperson on the Nordic 40 encountered something he was not looking for, just something he ran into when it was beyond his power to do anything about it. Luckily no one got hurt.

Whoever was on the helm of the Nordic 40 will never do that again. It is now within his power to avoid colliding with a mega sailing yacht. His experience has prepared him to 'Stand Clear' in the future.

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

2008-09-29T21:43:00.000-07:00

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.

Sailing with his eyes closed

2008-09-20T08:06:00.000-07:00

From the log . . .

Our stay at the Los Angeles Yacht Club was only about 24 hours long. We went up to see the Mitchells on the 2nd of October, which was our first wedding anniversary. We spent the afternoon watching CAL on the television and went to a party with the Mitchells, that night, in Hermosa Beach, were we all had an excellent dinner with plenty of liquid refreshment.

On Sunday, the 4th of October, we scrubbed the deck of the boat in preparation of painting the scuppers. The various mechanics and the trip to the Hawaiian Islands had left the teak deck very badly spotted, so that Jonsson and I spent the whole morning, scrubbing off the deck with all sorts of solvents, chore girls, brushes and even scrappers. When we got through the scupper and deck was clean and it was really delightful to walk around in your bare feet along the clean white decks.

The pictures we took from the Olson 25 of the Rolex Big Boat series last Saturday are now up as a public web album.

The 9/17 WNS was fantastic!

It was a close group of good friends, with gentle winds, and a not too cold bay. We had the J105 Energy that night and it was appropriate. Sailing like this gives me great energy. The group was Meghan (M1) Jorge, Lori, Ray, and myself. Leigh canceled late in the afternoon, but sent me an email to an account I don't use much, so we waited and waited and finally left the dock a bit late.

So we got on the water at about 6:40 pm and decided to motor up to D mark before really

starting to sail. No reef this time, the wind meter indicated 12 knots true wind and we found ourselves at about 30 degrees of heel on a calm Olympic Circle. Got some good photos of the gang enjoying themselves, and on closer inspection noticed Ray was sailing with his eyes closed.

When Lori took the helm the joy on her face was wonderful.

Made our way up to Pt. Blunt and bore off to set the spinnaker. which was hopelessly twisted for some reason. Ray and Meghan and Jorge had us drop it to the foredeck and they walked the tapes to straighten it out. This seemed to take forever, and as we were sorting it out, Bradley, Ari and Sarah passed behind us in a Catalina 36. We got it back up with plenty of time to play before reaching the harbor. Although not in daylight! There is something magical about flying the spinnaker at night. I had hoped to heat it up and find our friends to windward, but could not find them in the dark.

Stern lights, red and green bow lights were scattered across the circle, indicating where some of the fleet was, but the darkness was such that it wasn't possible to make out who was where. The moon had not risen over the Berkeley Hills, so it was very dark.

Not long after getting the chute up we found F mark and were assured that we had the entire circle to play in as our WNS sandbox.

Sweet!

We searched for the X mark, but never saw it as we jibed back and forth in the darkness. The wind changed to a more northerly direction, and we decided to drop the chute before entering the harbor.

I"ll be updating this later, it's Saturday morning, and I'm supposed to be down on the dock getting ready for another day of sailing!