February 12 2006

[Robert The Gray]

Greetings all.
It is the day after another fine winter time sail on this glorious body of water I call home. We; Whisper, me, and my turkey sandwich, got under weigh with the oars at 1050. Raised full main and my cut down 110% reaching sail. We had light winds from the north west. 5 - 10. Winds to be variable all day, possibly filling in from the south west in the PM. The max ebb was for 1650 peaking at 4.5 knots 9 miles downstream at the Golden Gate. Big water there. I chose to get as far up the northern tidal stream with the last of the flood and slack tide, anchor for a while and come back with the ebb. We take a series of long port tacks with a few starboard hitches to get me around the end of the breakwater at Point Richmond.

We got as far up stream as I could on the last of slack water. Got bonked in a wind hole just west of the Chevron refinery long dock. The ebb was filling in and I was moving backwards. Using oars here would break my spirit and my back so I fired up my volvo Penta MD3b and zipped up to Red Rock. Dropped the Bastard Bruce with his 8' of chain into 20 feet of water and let out 110" of nylon rode. More than usual but I like to relax. There was a big tide running, lots of big ships and tugs and ferries and barges. I hung up my sporty looking black dodge ball as my daytime anchor signal. I left the main up to dampen the wave rolling. 1300. Went below. Ahhh. Fermented grain beverage.

The afternoon was spent in a way that induced tranquility and ease within. As a platform for aquatic nature observation the vessel at anchor is fantastic. The cormorants fly past in their low flying formations, honking in time to their wing beats. The rounded and slippery grey heads of a pair of harbor seals look like labrador retrievers, visiting from a dream, free at last to swim as pure water creatures. I can hear a bull sea lion claim his spot on some haul out rocks on the other side of Red Rock. Very nice. I wish I had a fish finder and a herring jig. I could get some of these little fish and grill them up whole at home. Someday. Time and tide pass. 1500. There is a nice little rip forming to the east of me as the tide whips around Red Rock. The not meter shows we have got last weeks central valley rain flowing past our keel at 3.1 knots. Time to haul away and take the tide home.

Sh*t. Long scope mean anchor stuck hard. Me sailor learn. Try to both physically and verbally to persuade anchor to raise again into the light but to no avail. I talk to the swedish donkey lurking in the hold. He sparks to life and I motor over the anchor quickly shifting to neutral once free. Haul the Bastard Bruce back to his home on the roller and return to the cockpit to shut down the engine. There is no evident wind in my location but to the south, downstream, there is some surface darkness on the water. Using the oars to maintain a steerage speed of one knot through the water We ease out into the strong tide stream out from the shelter of Red Rock. Piloting a 4 ton vessel by oar in an 3 knot tide is fun. Like river rafting. I set myself up sideways to the stream and this pushes some wind into my close hauled sails. I am now more in the channel, depth is 55 feet. We work our way both south and east. we can ship the oars for know and concentrate on light wind sail trim. I have a decent 5 knot breeze now from the south, but up about a half a mile there is a patch of very glassy water that I cannot see an end to. A wind hole. Hmmmm.

As I am about to cross the entrance to the Richmond channel there appears aft of me a huge tug. It looks like one of those that can move in any direction in an instant at 7 knots. Big, beefy, and wearing flannel. Well I feel that one should keep out of the way of a working crew so I do a 180 and head back north for a bit. He passes, leaving a wake that rinses the mud off my fore deck. Now that was like river rafting! I head south into the wind hole. In 15 minutes I am very becalmed. Hello ash breeze. I row facing forward for 15 minutes, I turn around and row facing aft for another 15 minutes. The voices in my head are begining to chatter on about the why of rowing a boat with a pefectly good engine on board. I row facing forward again. I am being passed by many motoring boats and one nice gentleman asks if I would like a tow. I thank him and say that I am fine, I am just getting some exercise. Berkeley is still 4 miles ahead, at my steady 1.2 knots if I get no wind that would be 3 hours of constant rowing. The voices get louder. Just turn the key....Youv'e got stuff to do tomorrow.....you will need to use your arms tommorow to dring your evening beer. The voices in my head are cruel. I contemplate waking up the swedish donkey with a swift kick...........

Ahead I see some darkness on the water slowly moving towards me. I row some more. It turns out that it is not a swarm of killer bees but it is wind! yea! the south west breeze is filling in. There is a satisfaction in meeting self imposed challenges, especially when they involve something as aesthetically rich as sailing exclusively with 19 century tech. except for the radio of course. I am no hair shirt renunciant out in the desert stripping my self of all things superflurous, but I do not mind a period of austerity now and then. Cleans out the gunk of the modern world. The sandwich is long gone, as is the fermented grain beverage, so it is just Whisper and I as we slip down the waves toward home.

The Berkeley Marina lays 8 NM away from the Golden Gate and the wide Pacific. There has been a western swell running offshore from a storm that was off the coast of Japan. When the swell is from the right direction it will roll all the way across the bay and hit the Berkeley shore. It was wild to be flying along at five to six knots in 10 feet of water riding a swell from way out at sea during a beautiful sunset. Blessings upon us all for the glory of sail. As it goes, it goes and we soon were off the breakwater at Berkeley. Took just under an hour to go the rest of the four miles. The wind cannot get across the high pressure rising from the warm land and there is no wind in the marina. So it's row row row your boat and I do. I let the swede sleep. It has been a good day.

It is dusk. The water vapor in the air is tinged with violet and magenta as the Triton slices through the flat reflection of the streaking sky. Quiet and still, the marina is luminous. The monterey pine trees along the shore have a chorus of finches fluttering and calling, a crackle of electric sound in the fabric of the evening. Row. Row. Row. We arrive and Whisper goes to bed. Batteries off. Halyards quiet. Covers on. The walk to the car. As I pull onto the freeway along a long curving ramp I keep thinking I should be letting out my mainsheet as I bear off and accelerate. Later in the shower I can still feel my legs working to keep steady in my very stable house. The sea is still inside me.

R

[windrose]

Thanks Robert.