The Boate

gueste blogger

kin jung is our guest blogger today, sharing reflections from our epic voyage on sunday.

I think there are very few times that one can go out on The San Francisco Bay and have as spectacular a day as Eric, Phil and I had today. If variety is the spice of life, then we had it in spades today!

Berkeley Marina: 12:45 pm

Phil and I drove down to the Berkeley Marina where we met Captain Eric at The Boatë. We stowed our gear and cast off about 1 o'clock. Phil and I did a quick job of raising the main sail and the jib before we got out of the marina; which helped us as we immediately picked up speed and headed north toward the Richmond/San Rafael Bridge and San Pablo Bay. Within an hour we'd be under the Richmond bridge.

Mouth of the Port of Richmond: 1:45 pm

Two tugs and a monstrous Tokyo Marine vessel called the "Ginga Saker" from Panama were leaving the Port of Richmond. From a distance I could have sworn that the ships name was the Ginger Baker-- which would have been much cooler. In comparison to this behemoth we were a tiny little toy, a coke bottle bobbing on the bay. The Ginger Baker was so large that there appeared to be an oil refinery on its deck. Pipes ran everywhere across it's deck; a monstrous piloting tower overlooked the hundreds of yards of ship. I thought we were on a direct intersect with the vessel but Cap'n Eric wisely sloughed it off a bit and the monster crossed safely in front of us and pointed toward the Richmond Bridge; where it turned around, apparently finding a deep enough channel to take it out around Angel Island and presumably out through the Golden Gate. We would have been hating it; anything would have been hating it to be kissed by that floating refinery. Whew.

The Richmond Bridge 2:00 pm-3:30 pm

So we cruise under the Richmond Bridge. The wind dies. We're in the doldrums, but it's a perfectly pleasant day-- the sun shining brightly, a completely comfortable temperature...no complaints whatsoever until..... Cobb fly hell. Bobbing at less than a knot-- we are pestered by cobb flies. Where the hell those little bastards come from, we can only guess; hence the scientific name "cobb fly." They appear to be too small to fly from shore so they must hijack a floating piece of shit and then pounce on unsuspecting sailboats. Our only distraction from the cobbers was what appeared to be an explosion at a Richmond refinery. A huge cloud of smoke billowed from where storage tanks are-- it was a nasty looking plume of smoke headed directly for the Richmond, El Cerrito and Berkeley hills. To Phil and I the cloud of billowing smoke appeared too large to be an "intentional" release of "exhaust." I don't think Eric was convinced. Phil was taking odds on whether this event would make it to the news or paper. We did see a couple choppers check it out, but we were still being annoyed by the Cobb flies. Eric asked Phil to mark the spot of the "Flies" on the Garmin GPS so we never, ever go back there. Just as Phil marked the spot, the wind began to pick up. The wind was a welcome relief-- it seemed to come out of nowhere-- and fortunately blow away most all of the cobb flies.

The East Brother Light Station - Point Orient- Angel Island 3:30-5:30

And the wind picked up. And it picked up. Did I say the wind picked up? It began to really blow. White caps formed and we began to haul ass toward Point Orient. We were finally loving it...and then Eric asked the question: Did anyone pull up the bumpers? Yes, we were embarrassed. I grabbed the closest bumper and sheepishly pulled it in. Eric asked about the aft bumper and it was just a little too rough-and-tumble to go pull that one in by crossing the deck. So I went into the cabin, got bucked into the table which collapsed, thrown forward through the bathroom and into the front hull space. Here I emerged through the foredeck's hatch cover and somewhat heroically pulled in our last visible sign of inexperience. It was beautiful out there, standing through the hatch, with the wind rushing over my face and the boat being launched along at a nice clip by the wind. There was a true sense of living. A taste of excitement as The Boatë was nearly on it's side; but I stayed standing with my torso out of the hatch-- getting splashed and soaked as we caromed off of white caps. I could have reached my hand out and touched the water we were so "sideways." After enjoying my dousing and eventual soaking I tried to close the hatch but it was just too windy. I had to leave the hatch open and I scurried back to Eric and Phil who were in the cockpit. The wind was really blowing, so much so that the port side of The Boatë was out of the water and we were standing on the starboard seats--- All weight to the port side! It was a rush! As we approached Point Orient, we decided to tack and try and head out of the strong winds so we could find a "quiet place" for lunch. After more than a couple attempts at tacking, we made it-- and the wind continued to blow. And it blowed harder and harder-- the GPS said we were going 8.5, 8.6, 9.0 knots--- we were cruisin'. No time for lunch. A coast guard helicopter flew over us and checked on the boats in the vicinity. It was nice to see those guys up there-- looking out for the safety of the people on the water-- looking out for us! I felt a bit reassured to see them. And we continued to fly across the water and then-- a stay broke. One of the lines on the port side lost a bolt and the line swung wildly in the wind. Things were getting interesting. The adrenaline was flowing. Captain Eric was doing a fantastic job at keeping us headed towards Raccoon Strait where we hoped to find a respite from the wind. We were rolling with the wind coming out of the North-- and the swells helped to propel us faster and faster toward Raccoon Strait and a place to eat lunch.

Angel Island- 5:30-7:30 Sure enough, we reached Raccoon Strait and the wind began to die. Feeling famished and lightheaded, we motored to the Ayala docks at Angel Island. We docked and hurried to a picnic area. We passed the last visitors hurrying to catch the last Ferry of the day back to Tiburon. We were lucky, we all but had the Island to ourselves. We reached a picnic table in the shade near the visitors center looking out into Ayala Cove and Racoon Strait. We tore into our lunches and finished them in minutes. While we digested, a young buck, perhaps a two-year old guessing by the size of his antlers, wandered out of the forested area and down to the picnic tables where we sat. He seemed unconcerned by our presence. We talked and laughed and the deer grazed. He was so close I could smell his "deerness." Phil and I decided to go for an after-lunch hike and try and reach the highest point on the Island; which we could only guess would give us a 360-degree view of everything. Captain Eric decided to go back to The Boatë and go for a swim. Phil and I headed out in search of the summit.

Angel Island: The Sunset Trail and Mount Livermore

So Phil and I had no idea where we were going, we just knew we wanted to reach the highest peak. So we started up a paved road past the visitors center where we wandered by another buck who watched us as we walked by. We continued up the road away from the cove through a forest of eucalyptus. A pretty forest despite the fact that Eucalyptus are not native to the Island-- or even native to this hemisphere as I understand it. We wandered up this road until it crossed the "Perimeter Road"-- a 5.0 mile loop around the Island. We passed on the loop as it most likely wouldn't take us to the summit. From this intersection we could see a sign for "The Sunset Trail and Mount Livermore." That sounded good. "Sunset" was what we were after and "Mount" was where we could hopefully view it. So we proceed through a single track trail, closed to bikes and surrounded by stinging nettles, poison oak, and several varieties of fern. We even came across some wild blackberries. The trail wound up the mountain, shaded by beautiful old pines and gnarled oaks. The trail was a nice one that meandered up the hillside cutting from Northeast to Southwest. Continuing along, a deer scampered across the hill above us. As we got higher and higher the eucalyptus forest fell towards our feet. Through the tree tops we could see patches of the blue bay -- it was beautiful. Every corner we rounded gave us another spectacular view. As we neared a ridge line, we could once again see the sun as we emerged from below the canopy of the forest. The sun was so bright that we hurried in anticipation of the view. When we reached the sunny spot, sure enough we had a view of The Golden Gate to the south and Tiburon directly in front of us with Mount Tamalpais in the background. The sun sat at about 30-degrees over the horizon making the bay look so peaceful, so pristine, as it mirrored the sky. We gazed for a few more moments before pressing on up the mountain. We continued up the trail, moving along the exposed spine of Mount LIvermore towards its summit, our backs exposed to the sun; the air taking on a different scent from the forest we had just left. This new scent was that of dryness, sage brush, and dust. It was interesting to contrast the scents of the bordering ecosystems. As we hiked up the dusty single track, deer mice and small birds rustled in the brush around us. A slight breeze helped to relieve the heat we were generating and evaporate the beads of sweat beginning to form. We pressed on. Finally, within minutes we could see the summit, only a couple hundred more yards to the top! The trail split. One going up a slight mound from where I might have had a better view. I decided to take the trail less travelled, which I suspected would meet up with the trail we were on. Phil continued along the main trail. I began to jog up this trail and hurdle the sage brush that occasionally blocked my path. This was living. I found an unknown energy within myself up here on Mount Livermore only a hundred or so yards from the top. The trail I was on did indeed intersect with Phil's trail and it now became a path or road that went steeply up to the mountain top. I began running up this steep road, my lungs wheezing from years of smoking. Thinking that soon I'd be a non-smoker, I tried ignoring my body's gasps for air. My legs began to burn. Sweat stung my eyes. I ran. Why was I running? I didn't know. Excitement? Exhileration? Probably both. I stopped only yards shy of the summit and turned to see Phil was just behind me. Breathing deeply, I waited. We walked to the top--- wow!

It was as amazing as I'd thought it would be. Except in my mind's eye, it was a view I'd never before seen. Atop Mount LIvermore was a picnic table. Unnecessarily I hopped on top the table to get the best view. We could see three sixty: the bay, the East Bay hills and Mount Diablo behind them. To the North, San Francisco Bay stretched into the San Pablo Bay and mustard-hued hills of the North Bay. To the West: Tiburon and Mount Tamalpais. Southwest was the Golden Gate in all her ruddy glory, reflecting into the mirrored waters below her. And then San Francisco, bathed in the warm and golden light of the setting sun-- city windows ablaze from the days last rays. Downtown was aglow; office windows refelcting the sunset. And then, the Bay Bridge-- a shiny, shimmering silver mass stretching across the bay; it never looked so pretty. A few more degrees to our left gave us the Port of Oakland and Downtown Oakland and Emeryville. Could Oakland have looked any better, it's downtown gleaming in the golden light, a backdrop of forested hills? Angel Island, herself was gorgeous from here. We could see the Island in almost its entirety and diversity of flora. We noted a stand of blighted pines trees on the south side of the island. We hope it does not spread. Wow. It was time to go.

Phil and I walked back down the hill, trying to avoid slipping on it's slope. We noticed small oak trees planted everywhere, guarded by chicken-wire. We hoped those trees would grow. Perhaps one day there will be an oak forest atop Angel Island. I wonder how that will change the summit views? When we returned to the forested trail section, we began to run. An exhilarating run as we dodged nettles and poison oak. We slowed as I suspected shin splints were going to come on--what was I doing running? I wasn't wearing running shoes! We dropped down to Ayala Cove and to the area where we had picnicked. Here six young bucks with fuzzy antlers grazed on the grass. Again this small herd noted our presence but mainly ignored us. One deer was so relaxed, he was laying down.

We returned to the dock and found Eric ready to roll. He had repaired the stay and tidied up The Boatë. We shoved off and into the mostly windless Racoon Strait.

Racoon Strait-Golden Gate- Berkeley Marina: 7:30-9:30

It was strange. Very strange indeed. As we headed into the notoriously no-wind zone of Racoon strait we all saw something we'd never seen before. On an otherwise very placid bay, was an area of chop-- where the surface seemed seemed to be broken by small fish-- but that's not right. This same choppy area had small swells of 1-2 feet and there was a standing wave of 2-3 feet which clearly delineated the chop from the placid. Half a dozen seals played in the standing waves-- apparently fishing along this line where the tides met. Pelicans circled overhead and dove for bait fish. As we rounded the western-most side of Angel Island, we entered the lane between the Island and The Rock, Alacatraz, that is. The sky was awash in color, Tamalpais standing in dark contrast-- it looked to be a watercolor painting. We continued to make our way back to the Berkeley Marina, knowing that darkness would definitely descend upon us and feeling content with that. We meandered our way, trying to catch wind, and often moving just fast enough to know that we were moving. Such a different experience from our harrowing adventure in the North Bay. We could now relax, and think about our day. We laughed about our day. We voiced our individual moments of doubt and together found a collective certainty. We had it all today. As Eric said over a Carne Asada burrito only hours later: "It was a day that made you feel like a man."

Clubbe Sailing

I always seem to miss out on the 'adventures' that occur on The Boate! From Alberto falling in to plagues of flies and squalls that could down a Seqouia....broken stays, near misses with moored yachts and untold lost headgear. Why do I always miss out? I guess it just doesn't happen 'on my watch'.
So anyway....Saturday rocked out there!! The Capt's joined by Pia set out for a gorgeous day..the birds were shining and the sun was singing! We stopped off at Angel Island after the last ferry left and watched as some kids taunted the local herd of deer. We were secretly hoping for a lesson to be learned 'don't mess with the wildlife'....but I think the deer get a good amount of contact with inquisitive tourists so as not to feel too threatened. So after playing out scenes of 'Animals Gone Wild' we left Angel Island and set out for one of the most amazing evenings out by Golden Gate Bridge. The party boats were out in search of the perfect sunset and we provided the musical backdrop ala' human bass and hi hat.
The currents around the Bridge are incredibly strong, showing flat water but tell tale signs of the turmoil below. It was my first time under the Bridge on The Boate and really got me excited for a more substantial journey in the future. The open ocean holds so much more adventure for me than sailing in the Bay. My concern for boat eating sharks aside.
"Another unprovoked attack occurred off Fourchu, Cape Breton in July of 1953. The boat was bitten and sank, dumping the two fishermen in the water. The shark did not attack the fishermen but one man drowned in his attempt to swim to shore. Again the attacking shark was identified by tooth fragments embedded in the hull. This shark was estimated to be 3.7m in length."
Some time soon I think. Maybe after an upgrade in size. And the purchase of a shotgun! photos.

hemingway sunday

my body is sore. my face and arms are hot with too much wind, salt, and sun. and yet, i feel remarkably alive right now. today was one of those rare days where you feel like, in eight or so hours, you have lived through a couple of hemingway short stories, or maybe an epic homerian poem and at least one of the plagues foretold in the book of revelations. kin and phil and i set our course for point orient, and fell into the doldrums around the chevron docks. suddenly, we were beset by a plague of horseflies. this is not a joke, there were about fifty flies that suddenly descended on the boate from nowhere. kin actually sought shelter under one of the deck cushions. phil went below. i fired up the motor, and we all started wishing for some serious wind to blow the little beasts away. poseidon must have heard us, because not more than twenty minutes later, out of a clear blue sky, we were suddenly hit with thirty mile an hour winds. the next hour and a half were the most adrenaline-pumping, life-jacket wearing, coast-guard-helicopter-circling-over-head minutes i have yet spent on the bay. we averaged something like 7.5 knots running with the wind south, and it was an utter bitch maintaining control over the boate, as she kept trying to weathervane back into the hard gusts behind us.
soon however, we were enjoying a lesson in the microclimates of the bay area, eating a late lunch in the shelter of angel island, basking on the grass in the eighty degree heat with deer all around. kin and phil hiked up to the top of the island while i repaired one of the stays that had become loose during our adventure north.
we pulled out of angel island promptly at seven, steered our way just shy of the golden gate, and back to berkeley marina. photos from the weekend are here.

Like a mad mans breakfast!

The wind was all over the place today. A glance at our progress on the gps may suggest we were also. It doesn't lie! The heavy and indecisive wind, coupled with 4-5ft swells put us at a severe disadvantage if we had any hopes of looking like we know what we're doing. Jondi came aboard and watched us flounder hopelessly in trying conditions. Maybe I'm being harsh, giving us the raw end of the stick a little too crtitical.....mmmmm I dunno, just when you think you have the bay mastered it tosses out a real rotten day and says "try this on for size".
Anyway, the wind calmed down, the swells went home around the same time as us and we had a beautiful motor/sail back to the marina. I had a great day! As i'm sure did Jondi and C. Eric. Even when the weather goes south once you step foot back on the solid decking of the marina everything becomes a great nautical adventure! And we survived it once again. photos are here
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man overboard - FOR REAL!!!

an excellent day out there. alberto and i took one of my guitars out with us and strummed and sang a sea shanty or two over in paradise cove, then headed up through rack's crack and over to the golden gate before heading home at sunset. pulling into the slip, i heard a loud splash from the bow of the boate. seems that alberto misjudged the distance between the deck and the dock, and wound up in the drink! the only bright side of the whole incident for alberto was the fact that my camera was out of batteries. heh. more photos.

max speed 8.2kt/h avg 3.5kt/h 23.37 nm in 6h 41m