San Fran Bay and the madness of Cliff Part Two

At the end of part 1 we were sailing down the Sacramento River and had just passed underneath the bridges at Benicia. We were headed toward the bridge at Vallejo which was right around the bend to the west and were still on the motor. I had bent on the mainsail in order to motor sail, but to enter the canyon, called Carquinez Strait, we had to turn directly into the wind. So down came the mainsail.

Just about the time we made the turn into Carquinez Strait the wind picked up quite a bit and started acting against the river's current causing some chop and spray. The thing with the strait is that two rivers are funneled through the narrowest section of the of the canyon and, with the high walls here, the wind was funneled and accelerated, right on our nose. So by the time we were abeam of Glencove and in sight of the bridge, I was at full throttle riding with the current against a 25 knot wind. There were some three to four foot waves that made the ride fun. As we passed under the Vallejo bridge and then by Mare Island the wind shifted around to come from the northwest instead of due west and settled down to around 15 knots, so we set the sails, secured the motor and ghosted onto a sunny San Pablo Bay.

This was sailing. There was the sun and a good breeze and we were on a broad reach cruising along at 6.5 knots over ground. Then we were at 4.5 knots over ground. Then 3 knots. Then just as we were coming up on Pinole Point we gave up. The tidal current was to strong, and we wanted to conserve fuel, so we dropped the hook just off of the pier at Point Pinole Regional Park and had a noon cocktail hour. The sun was out and the breeze was nice and we just hung out and wondered why we saw lots of sailboats from big to small motoring at top speed down the bay towards San Francisco instead of joining us for a drink and then sailing down after the current turned. Lunch was peanut butter sandwiches and screwdrivers.

Around about 1:30 we pulled anchor and set the sails just as we came off of slack. The river's current began to come back and the wind was from due west at about 15 knots gusting to 20. I set my course for San Quentin (SW) and my sails for a close reach. We rounded the point at Richmond and turned due south for the Richmond-San Rafael bridge at 6.5 to 7 knots and officially entered San Francisco Bay. This was our goal, to us almost the holy grail of small boat sailing. It was here that Captain Cliff turned to me and said, “Do you think we should reef down the sails now?”

“I don't think we need it yet, I've got it good.” I replied.

At the time the boat was healed over about 25 degrees and the wind had changed points just as we had so that even though we were sailing due south we were still on a close reach and I was fighting the tiller hard against a severe weather helm.

As I looked at the main and suddenly realized there were no reef points in it a thought occurred to me, and I asked “Are we set up for reefing?” . Captain Cliff got a puzzled and thoughtful look on his face and didn't reply right away.

I used our little wind meter and got a reading of 18-22 knots just as we passed by a small island with a lighthouse and a bed and breakfast. We were making good way and I adjusted the main sheet, traveler and boom vang so as to minimize the weather helm. Then I led a line from the tiller through a block to the starboard winch and was able to sit on the side of the pilot house on the windward side and steer by using the weather helm. I would pull on the line to pull us off the wind and ease off and let the helm pull us up into the wind and so was able to keep a rather steady course even with the wind gusting to 30 knots occasionally.

Now we were approaching the bridge and a lot of commercial traffic was joining us, with their wakes. The fetch was lengthening as the bay widened and the wind had shifted by now to be coming from west by southwest and the waves increased in size considerably. Then the rain started. With the bow plunging and the heavy weather helm we were burying our foredeck occasionally and healing to 45 degrees, so we decided to reef. First was the jib so I gave over the helm to Captain Cliff and went forward with some bungee gaskets while he headed us. I had a fun time wrestling the jib down and attaching the sheets on a higher point on the leach. I then reattached the clew to a higher point and both bungeed and tied the loose foot. Raising it with the halyard to try it, I was surprised it worked as I had just improvised the whole thing. Captain Cliff gave it a look over and had me take the helm so he could tackle the main.

There were extra grommets 1.5 feet up on the clew and the leach so he had me head the boat as he loosed the halyard, re-hooked the clew in the higher spot, reattached the outhaul and pulled it in tight. Then he raised and tightened the halyard and laced up the tail end of the foot with the end of the outhaul. After he raised it back up I got us onto a course for Angel Island. I had to tack back and forth some to make it as the wind was coming almost from the island sometimes.

This was some of the most fantastic sailing I have ever done and the grin on both our faces said it all to me. I was sailing fast and hard in the rain with winds gusting to 40 knots but staying near 30 most of the time on a choppy bay with about a hundred or so other boats all heeled over hard. Riding on the side of the pilot house and steering with my line was way better than trying to stand in a very small cockpit leaning down slightly to hold a very short tiller. Every time we came about I had to re-rig my steering line but that wasn't hard. As we cruised into the lee of the island I turned and headed due south to a small semi protected area just north of the light house on the southeast side of the island.

At a suitable spot the Captain ordered me to come about while he brought in the jib. We were being buffeted by occasional gusts that rolled down off of Angel Island or poked their way around the point and one almost knocked us down while Cliff was on the foredeck securing the flapping headsail. I had trouble keeping us headed into wind as each gust seemed to come from a different direction. As a consequence I was riding with the main sheet eased considerably and was sailing in circles and figure eights trying to prevent a gust from catching us off guard.

As soon as the Captain had the jib secured he made the anchor ready and had me steer in closer to the island towards a sort of cove just south of what looked like an old hotel. At about a hundred yards from the shoreline I steered due north up the shore directly into the wind. As soon as the breeze halted our forward progress the Captain dropped the anchor and I steered us backwards as he let out generous scope and then snubbed us. As we swung around I could feel that we hooked good. He let out a little more and tied off the nylon rode to the samson post while I dowsed the main.

In the lee it was almost like night and day. The rain still fell intermittently and the wind still buffeted us from varying directions but with considerably less intensity. It was actually pleasant sitting in the pilot house and watching the fleet cruise by. All of them at a full 45 degree heel and most with reefed down sails. There were at least fifty boats out there doing some extreme sailing until almost dusk. So one more night before making it to San Francisco.

We talked a lot about the day's sailing and were both pleasantly surprised that we were not all that frazzled even after sailing in pretty extreme conditions in an unfamiliar boat that turned out to be rather harder to sail than any boat we had sailed up to that point. We had mostly lake sailing experience between us, only a little real open water experience under sail. But we both had a good bit of open water time at the helm of some pretty big power boats when we were commercial fishing in Bristol bay in Alaska, sometimes in gale conditions. I also had four years Navy time too (but on submarines, so it doesn't count). We had both sailed in gale conditions on lakes in Alaska, just not together. Lake sailing in extreme weather conditions keeps you on your toes because you are always on a lee shore and, at least on the lakes around where we lived, there was almost always a shoal draft condition any time you needed to claw off a shoreline.

What we had just done was really no more stressful than the gale that had hit me hard and suddenly as I was adrift with no motor and only a reefed jib up on a Siren17 while on my honeymoon on Paxson Lake in Alaska. My new wife, on her third time ever sailing, and I were forced to throw out the anchor and stop ourselves about 150 feet from the lee shore in a little cove that was open to the full force of the storm that lasted about two hours.

The City By The Bay looked inviting across the bay from us. As darkness fell and the lights from the city came on we could see a silhouette of Alcatraz Island. We decided to wait until morning to sail over. After setting anchor watches on the GPSs' we had a cup of tea. One worry we had was realized at about 11:30 pm when the wind had shifted, again, and had pushed us toward shore. We were watching a movie on the laptop when we felt a bump and discovered some rocks that were rather shallow now that the tide was out. So we started the motor and re-anchored about 100 feet farther out. If you believe the Captain's GPS, we dragged a little in the night, but not enough to be noticeable visually, and neither anchor alarm went off.

Part three, To The City, to come.