Moonrise: Ship's Log |
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After many false attempts, I really really really wanted to
get out to Drake's Bay and the Farallon Islands. The weekend of the
27th and 28th looked like a good candidate for a late-season attempt,
not least because my colleague Maarten was in town on business, and
he's a sailor! Coincidentally, I got an email from my buddy Chris,
who owns a Valiant 32 named Amazing Grace, that he
was planning to go up with a friend that weekend too, so it looked
like a great chance to finally get up there. He even mentioned that a
couple of other Valiants might be making the trip.
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| Motoring down the estuary from Alameda. |
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So I talked Maarten into coming along, which I guess seemed attractive
after being in meetings all week! The plan was to head up to Drake's
Bay, spend a night at anchor there, and then head back, possibly
detouring via the Farallones. Although that would make for a much
longer return journey, the wind would be behind us on the way back in
the Gate. The weather was pretty mild, the cold summer winds being
gone; the main worry was that there might be too little wind for
sailing.
On Saturday, the current at the Golden Gate was going to be coming
in until 11:21, so we were going to be fighting a slight flood there;
but on Sunday, the flood at 8:16 pm. looked ideal for coming home. I
checked the forecast about 7:00. The ocean forecast was for south
winds less than 15 knots on Saturday -- ie. not much -- and then
increasing to 10-20 knots on Sunday, which looked a little more
promising. (I should mention that the NOAA weather forecasts always
seem to predict much more wind than there actually is; a real
10-20 knots would have been great.) The swell forecast was for 4-6
feet, increasing to 5-7 feet, which is quite mild. Apart from the
lack of wind, this looked quite nice.
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| Maarten's first trip under the Golden Gate Bridge. |
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Sat 27 Oct 2001 00:00:00 [UTC]
Alameda
We set off at 8:01 a.m, and motored off down the estuary. It was a
very still morning, though overcast. Unsurprisingly, the estuary was
pretty quiet, although we did see a couple of other boats heading out.
By 8:40 we were in the bay; we were making great speed due to the nice
clean hull -- I'd just had a diver do it the previous day. We passed
under the Bay Bridge at 9:00, heading north. The one bad sign was the
lack of wind -- just 1 or 2 knots.
Passing the S.F. city front, we gave the navy ship Cape Henry,
moored at one of the piers, a wide berth, so as not to get in trouble
with the coast guard. This is one of the trickiest parts of the Bay
in terms of freighters, so it's important to keep both eyes open; but
there wasn't much traffic around today. We rounded Alcatraz, and at
9:56, passed under the Golden Gate Bridge, heading out to sea.
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| Passing Point Bonita light. |
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Motoring out the Gate, there was even less wind; at 10:20, we turned
north and started motoring up into the Bonita Channel. The Sun looked
like it was finally coming out, but the wind was even lighter than
before, just a fraction of a knot. We passed one fishing boat, just
off Bonita lighthouse.
This pretty much set the theme for the day; chugging along under
power, on a flat sea. Normally there's some swell, even if
there's no wind, but on this day the ocean seemed to be completely
lifeless.
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| Maarten, and the still-furled mainsail. |
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At 10:48 we saw a porpoise going along slowly behind us, as we were
off Muir Beach. By this time there was no wind at all, and although
we were by now outside the San Francisco sea bar, there was almost no
trace of a swell -- the sea was flat and glassy. Bad sign.
After a while, I decided to see if Chris was on his way up yet; so
I tried to call up Amazing Grace on the VHF. S/V Anne replied, which
I knew was one of the other Valiants heading to Drake's; the signal
was pretty bad, but we gathered that Anne and Amazing Grace were
already anchored in the bay. It turned out that they had left
yesterday evening and motored up, making a pretty quick run up.
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| Entering Drake's Bay. |
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About that time we were watching what looked like a huge fleet of
boats on the water ahead, off Bolinas Bay, south of Duxbury Reef --
and I mean a lot of boats. We turned offshore a little to
avoid the thickest bunch of them. Maarten counted 97 boats in total
-- all sorts of boats, from small fishers to charter boats from Pier
39. Firing up the radar showed a huge mass of little blips.
Another odd thing (although possibly related) was that the water
was a very deep, dark reddish brown. This was clearly visible in the
wake, where it looked like we were motoring through red-brown mud. We
guessed that this was a "red tide", which is a dense bloom of algae
that sometimes occurs offshore. We carried on motoring, still making
a good pace; by noon we were off Bolinas, but we were still passing
the fishing fleet!
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| Joining up to the raft. |
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At 12:23, we were on the last straight-line leg to Drake's Bay, and
the GPS was showing a time of arrival about 14:07. The wind was still
absolutely zero, and the sea completely flat -- the predicted 2 foot
waves and 4-6 foot swell were nowhere to be seen. However, quarter of
an hour later, we did quite suddenly find a swell, from the northwest,
of about 3-4 feet; but it lasted less than half an hour, and then it
was gone again.
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| The 8-boat raft. |
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After another chat with Amazing Grace on the VHF -- with much better
reception -- we also made contact with Morning Star, another of the
Valiants heading for the bay. It turned out that she was just a mile
or so ahead; we could just make her mast out through the slight haze,
but the radar confirmed the range. As we slowly gained on her, we
watched her enter the bay; and at 14:10, we were in too.
We found waiting for us not just a couple of boats, but 6, all
rafted together, and riding off a couple of anchors. Morning Star
tied up at the north end, and we went alongside her, making a grand
total of 8 boats in a raft; a pretty spectacular sight for a little
bay in the middle of nowhere.
So that ended our the trip down, of 39.3 nautical miles,
which we covered in 6 hours 26 minutes; all, unfortunately, under
power. That made an average speed of 6.1 knots.
Drake's Bay, in Point Reyes National Seashore. We were anchored just off the historic lifeboat station.
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| Rowing to the shore. |
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Once we were all tied up, we launched my dinghy; this is a little 7'
hard dinghy that lives on the fore-deck. It's normally just a pain to
have on the deck, blocking the view, but in situations like this it's
fantastic -- rows well, and carries a good load easily. Launching
consists of heaving it over the lifelines into the water, which seemed
to work all right -- getting it back on deck was more of a pain, but
not too bad.
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| Drake's Bay. |
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We took the chance to row around and take a ton of pictures of
Moonrise, and the raft as a whole; then we rowed over to the little
beach to the south, by the old lifeboat station. Leaving the boat in
good company, we hiked up to the top of the ridge, and along to
Chimney Rock. This is an easy, pleasant hike; there were plenty of
boat folks around, and even one or two "civilians"!
After we got back, yet another boat joined us -- Mirage II, a large
catamaran. They rafted up with us, making 9 boats total --
unfortunately after our photo expedition was complete. Once back on
board, we started getting to know the rest of the crews -- and hooked
up with Chris at last. He and some of the
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| Maarten, climbing to Chimney Rock. |
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other guys had been out crab fishing with simple net traps, and caught
a huge quantity of crabs, some of which were soon cooked up. I was a
little concerned about the
effects of red tide, so I didn't have much, but what I had was
delicious. (No-one had any problems, as far as I know.)
As darkness was falling, a big fishing trawler came into the bay.
At first, it headed past us deeper into the bay, but then it circled
round behind our boats and started approaching us quite closely. By
this time, every eye was turned toward this huge monster, slowly
bearing down on us, closer and closer; then the skipper stuck his head
out the door and yelled, "Which end should I tie up?"!
This provoked a big laugh, and then the trawler went off to her own
mooring. We could see what looked like a large shark cage on her
deck, though, which looked a little odd for a trawler; we wondered
what kind of fishing they might be up to.
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| The Skipper. |
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With the full darkness came a beautiful phenomenon -- phosphorescence
in the water. I'd read about this, but never seen it; plankton that
glow when you disturb them. Even with all the lights hung up on the
boats it was surprisingly strong; if you swirled a stick around in the
water, it looked like you were spraying pixie dust around. Throwing a
bucket of water into the bay created a burst of eerie blue light.
Suddenly, a loud "WHUMP!" came from the direction of the trawler;
it sounded like a muffled explosion, like a large flare gun; but there
was no sign of any flare. This happened several times, and we
wondered if they were trying some strange new shark-fishing gear, or
were they shooting at squid, or what?
Later, the trawler guys came over and joined in the general
festivities on the raft. As they motored over in their dinghy, the
darkened boat rode on a blanket of shimmering phosphorescence, giving
it a totally sci-fi look. It turned out that the trawler was carrying
a British TV crew, who were there to make a documentary on Great White
sharks for Animal Planet! They had with them a guy who specialises in
shark neurology, and has spent tons of time in the water with them.
he had some pretty amazing pictures of himself making friends with the
sharks.
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| Clint on Moonrise. |
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As the night wore on, they brought out their spud gun to play with.
When I was at school we had spud guns -- they were tiny little
pistol-like things that could shoot a little pellet of potato over
ranges of two or three feet. This one was a little different. It
consists of about three feet of drainpipe, with a large combustion
chamber attached to the end. You ram an entire potato down the pipe,
spray some engine starting fluid (ether) into the combustion chamber,
close the lid quick, and ignite it by means of a sparker built into
the side. Then -- "WHUMP!" and the potato flies a couple of hundred
yards into the night.
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| Maarten's new look. |
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(I strongly recommend checking your country's laws on private
possession of artillery weapons before trying this at home, kids.)
I sampled some excellent seafood pasta courtesy of one of the other
boats -- was it Endorphin? Anyway, thanks, guys! Finally I returned
to Moonrise to turn in, finding Maarten holding his mouth strangely --
one of his front teeth had broken off, apparently while eating a
yoghurt! Honest -- I wasn't beating him up for not whistling up a
good wind. (Maybe I should have been...)
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| Panoramic view of the bay in the morning. |
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Sun 28 Oct 2001 00:00:00 [UTC]
Drake's Bay
The morning dawned quite bright, raising hopes of a nice day, but
there was still no sign of any wind. However, the weather forecast
was for 5-15 knot winds from the south, which seemed a little hopeful,
and with waves of 1-3 feet and swell 4-6 feet (again). The bay was
beautiful in the morning light.
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| Crew of Mirage II. |
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We cast off at 8:37, and started motoring south out of the bay.
Chris on Amazing Grace reported that he was heading south to
S.F., but I was considering heading out to the Farallon Islands,
having never seen them. On rounding the Drake's Bay buoy, we decided
to head out to the islands; with any luck, we'd get a little wind
later and sail in. Endorphin, one of the boats from the raft, was
heading that way too; and later August Wind started heading out.
By 9:00 we were clear of the bay, heading south at 6.9 knots. The
wind was just half a knot, and there was a very mild swell. We had a
breakfast of fresh ground coffee and cookies -- I normally avoid
coffee while sailing, but it seemed that seasickness wasn't going to
be a problem this weekend. By the time the coffee was done, the wind
had died completely.
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| Chris on Amazing Grace. |
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At 10:00, we suddenly came across a huge shoal of jellyfish; they
were huge orange ones, with large tentacles stretching up to four or
five feet. There were also some blue/white jellies, 8-12 inches
across, which I think are Moon Jellies. There seemed to be thousands
of them; it took close to 15 minutes to pass them.
By 10:56 the visibility had closed in; there hadn't been a sign of
the Farallones all morning, and it was starting to look like they were
enclosed in their own private fog bank. I plotted a course between
Mid Farallon and Southeast Farallon on the GPS, and cranked up the
radar. It was still very calm.
Our course, from Alameda to Drake's Bay, and. back with a detour round the Farallon Islands.
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| Southeast Farallon. |
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By 11:27 the visibility was down to half a mile; no wind, flat sea.
By now were were relying heavily on the GPS and radar for navigation;
the radar in particular was very reassuring, as it clearly showed all
of the rocks around in relation to our position. Between that and the
chart, which shows the submerged rocks, we felt pretty sure of where
we were going. But with the lack of visibility I was despairing of
actually seeing the Farallones! So I grabbed a photo off the radar
quick, so I'd at least have some evidence we were there.
Apart from the jellies, there wasn't much life around; but we saw
occasional diving birds, and some seals or sea lions. But at 11:50 we
finally rounded Southeast Farallon, and it seemed that the fog cleared
a little at last; in any case, we got a good view of the island and
the houses where its inhabitants -- some hardy wildlife researchers --
live. At the same time we found ourselves motoring through another
patch of the Moon Jellies.
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| Southeast Farallon. |
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At 12:00, suddenly the engine started to lose speed -- and almost
immediately stopped. This wasn't too cool, as we were quite near the
reefs of Southeast Farallon; and with no wind at all, no way to avoid
them. While Maarten kept watch, I jumped below and started looking at
the engine. The first thing was that the active fuel filter was full
of sediment -- this suggested that we had been drawing fuel from the
bottom of the tank. Sure enough, a check of the fuel gauge (a wooden
dipstick) confirmed that were were pretty low on fuel -- much lower
than I had expected to get on this trip.
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| Moon Jellies. |
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I called up the boats nearby on the radio, and August Wind came over
to offer help. They had a jerry-can of spare diesel on board (seems
like a good idea for the next trip), and offered me 4 gallons, which I
gladly accepted. This got the level up, and I switched to the clean
backup fuel filter; but the engine wouldn't go. I guessed that we had
sucked some air into the system, so I bled the system according to the
manual; but several attempts wouldn't get it going.
The last thing I noticed was that the manual prime lever on the
fuel pump wasn't pushing any fuel through the system -- so it seemed
like the pump had given up the ghost. The manual says that this is a
non-repairable item, and one thing I don't have in my extensive spares
kit is a complete replacement fuel pump.
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| Southeast Farallon. |
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Luckily, August Wind offered us a tow. I got my tow rope out and we
tied on, and soon both boats were heading back to the Bay -- still
making a decent 5.5 knots. At 18:28 we entered the Gate, and finally
felt a breath of wind -- the first in two days! Saying thanks to our
saviours on August Wind, who were heading to Sausalito, we cast off
the tow, set the genoa, and started sailing south. By 18:55 we were
making 4.5 knots in pretty light wind.
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| Taking on fuel. |
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Unfortunately, the wind didn't last too long. We scraped by Alcatraz
as the flood tide pushed us in the bay, and wondered what to do next.
I called up my mate Norm on another Westsail 32, Imagine, which is
based in my marina in Alameda -- just to see if he would be handy for
another tow.
We had another bash at the engine to see if we would get it going.
Although the engine's fuel pump was gone, the fuel line has a manual
squeeze-bulb in-line for priming the system. We had already tried
having Maarten stand in front of the engine pumping fuel by hand while
I cranked the engine, with no luck; but we decided to give it another
go. After a few attempts, the engine sprang to life! Maarten stood
at his post pumping while I steered us under the Bay Bridge at an
amazing 8.2 knots, at 8:00 p.m. At 8:25 we entered the estuary, and
things were looking good.
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| Taking on fuel. |
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Unfortunately, our troubles weren't over! At 8:37 Maarten noticed
that the saltwater pump, which pumps water to cool the engine, was
making nasty noises. I reduced revs to try to save it, but ten
minutes later it was glowing and shooting sparks -- and that always
seems like kind of a bad sign, I feel. (I'm not kidding -- it was
glowing!) I stopped the engine and cut the fan belt it's driven by,
then re-started the engine at minimum revs -- and called Norm again.
Luckily, Norm reminded me that the saltwater feed cools the exhaust,
not just the engine, and I was in danger of melting the exhaust! So I
cut the engine again and waited for Norm to come get us.
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| Under tow. |
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The last act began at 9:25 p.m., when Imagine took us under tow in the
estuary. This wasn't far outside Grand Marina, so by 9:33 we were
docked. Our homeward trip was 59.4 nautical miles, almost entirely
under power -- ours and other peoples'! Amazingly, our homeward speed
averaged out at 4.6 knots, even after spending over an hour drifting
with the sails up. The weekend total came to 98.7 miles.
So what went wrong? Well, first, 10 hours motoring was by far the
hardest use the engine had had in quite a while -- the extended
vibration and running clearly shook a couple of things loose. Also, I
should have had more fuel on board; my calculations about how much we
would use, even in two days motoring, were way off. (It doesn't help
that my dipstick isn't calibrated.) The fuel pump turned out to be
fine -- just the manual prime lever was broken; so that was a false
lead. The saltwater pump was annoying, though, since it was new and
had been professionally -- but faultily -- installed. (The boatyard
put it right in the end.)
Still, no great harm done, lessons learned for the future -- and
profuse thanks to August Wind and Imagine for a couple of timely
rescues. We had a great stay in Drake's Bay; and I definitely
know a few more things about sharks and spud guns than I did before.
Copyright (C) 1995-2006 Ian Cameron Smith. (index.cgi $Revision: 1.98 $)
