Saturday October 29^th 2011

It was a busy week prepping the boat for its trip from the SF Bay down to Long Beach.  I had lists of things to do and every evening after work I would work on clearing the lists.  The last thing to do on the boat list was to pick up my skipper at SF airport at 2:00pm Saturday afternoon.

Back at the boat I left Nikolay checking over the boat while I had a final hot shower and then we set off around 3:00pm.  We had the outgoing tide in our favor and scooted up the bay at around 8 knots.  The closer we got to the Golden Gate Bridge the more the tide surged us out and I watched the knot meter steadily climb.  8.6 knots.  9.2 knots.  9.8  10.5  11.3  And we topped out at 11.4 as we shot out under the bridge and into open waters.  The strange thing was that I expected to feel like we were zooming along but FastAlley felt the same as doing 5 knots.  Just stable, solid, and sedate.

With the current behind us and no wind we headed down the coast and motored thru the night at around 9 knots.  I told Nikolay that come early evening my body typically wanted to shut down and sleep – I was never a late night owl.  So if it was okay with him, I would go to sleep early and stand the midnight watch.  That was fine with the skipper.  When I came up around 11pm Nikolay had raised the sails and killed the engine and we were ripping along in good winds at around 8 knots, and surfing the ocean swells.  It was exhilarating.

It was also very cold and I had on 4 layers of clothes as I settled down on my watch.  It was a black night.  Black seas.  Black skies.  No stars.  No moon.  Just pitch black.  The deck glowed a pale white in the running lights.  I figured I didn’t have to be on full alert for traffic because if any other boat was out there its light would stick out in the night like a lighthouse.  And so I daydreamed as I stood watch.

One thing about being out on a boat rushing through the dark night with the water gurgling over the hulls, it makes one introspective.  I seldom take the time to sit and think about the meaning of Life (the answer to which is 42, according to the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy), but there is very little else to do out there.  Every fifteen minutes I would check we were still sailing on course, check the read out on the various instruments, and settle down again to watch the seas, or more accurately, feel the seas since it was so black I couldn’t actually see anything.

And so Saturday and Sunday passed inexorably as we sailed down the coast about 15 miles out to sea.  On Sunday night I was on the midnight watch again and staring towards land.  Before turning in Nikolay suggested we run the engine to charge the batteries because all the instruments were taking a lot of power.  And so we motorsailed along during my watch.  Once again the night was pitch black with just the faintest line where the black sky met the black sea.  There was a ton of bioluminescence and FastAlley left a wide luminous green glowing streak in the sea as we surfed down the waves.  I was daydreaming how incredible it would look if a submarine moved silently passed us glowing and outlined beneath the waters in a shimmer of green luminosity.  Then I remembered the sub that surfaced suddenly in Hawaii a while back, flattening a small fishing vessel and killing all 6 fishermen on board.  I decided to skip the submarine daydream and substituted a whale instead.  Then I remembered the angry whale that leapt out of the water in the South African Cape Bay and breached on top of a small sailing vessel almost ripping the back off the boat.  I decided to skip daydreaming altogether until I could come up with something more pleasant.

It was around 3am and really cold as I gazed out into the darkness.  Suddenly 5 tubes of light came streaking towards the boat.  Dolphins!  I was delighted.  More dolphins streaked towards FastAlley attracted by the sound of the engine.  They leapt, and jumped, and raced around the boat delighting in the bow waves.  With 3 hulls they had a lot of bow waves to choose from.  I was entranced.  I watched the dolphins cavorting as they streaked through the water in long bright tubes of luminescence, playing and surfing as they chased each other with unabashed joy.  I couldn’t actually see the dolphins, I could just see the streaks of glowing green light they left in their wake.  I thrilled to the spectacular display of Lights taking place in the dark water around my boat.  I wished I could capture the delightful moment forever.

Monday morning dawned grey and overcast with no wind.  The weather reports, however, were ominous.  A huge storm out in the Pacific was sending large waves our way.  We were to expect high seas and high winds around Point Conception, which is considered one of the most dangerous areas along the California coast line.  Countless boats have been demasted, rolled, and just plain sunk off Pt. Conception and now the Weather Station was warning boats to beware.  The same conditions would prevail in the Santa Barbara Channel making conditions hazardous.  Great.  I went to sleep as Nikolay took over, knowing that when I awoke for my watch we would be right in the middle of that maelstrom.

I had been watching the weather for the past 3 weeks and storm after storm had marched across the Pacific.  NOAA websites had been forecasting heavy weather for weeks.  I decided to call my mother and get some insurance.  My mother is a prayer warrior and whenever I need protection I call her and ask her to get on the Hotline to God.  She tells me that God answers my prayers too but I have noticed that if there is Fabulous Option 1 or Crappy Option 2 then God answers my prayers alright, but with crappy #2.

So I engaged my prayer warrior mom.  She said of course she would pray for good weather.  I said I wanted not just good weather, but FLAT seas.  I wanted a smooth, calm run down the coast with zero damage to the boat and the skipper and myself.  I figured flat seas was Fabulous Option 1 and asked her to pray for that.  My mother agreed.  I wanted to hear her engage God so I stayed on the line while she prayed.  Just before we left SF I checked with my mother that God was aware of my “flat seas” request.  She assured me she had passed on my appeal.

As I prepared to leave the dock my son (a budding prayer warrior) and my grandson (a baby prayer warrior) said they would pray over me for a safe journey.  “And for flat seas”, I added which my grandson dutifully tacked onto the end of his prayer.

Armed with my 3 prayers, I listened to the very alarming weather report but was not unduly perturbed.  However, in light of the ferocity of the expected weather I did assure God that if flat seas were difficult to achieve, then I would accept 3ft swells as compensation.  I went to bed in what I thought was a generous spirit.

I awoke some hours later knowing we should be at, or near, Point Conception.  I dressed and went on deck and stared out over the seas, awestruck!  The sea was flat.  Flat.  Flat.  Glassy flat.  I turned to the skipper – “This is Point Conception?”, I asked incredulously.  He grinned hugely.  “Yes”, he replied as he lounged back reading a book.  I turned a slow 360 – the sea was glassy flat in every direction.  Nothing moved.  Not a ripple.  Not a bump.  As undisturbed as a quiet, still pond.  I burst out laughing.  “This is Point Conception?” I asked again as I turned another 360, just stunned.  “Check the charts”, said the skipper.  I walked over to the glowing electronic chart and sure enough, there we were, right off the Point.

Point Conception

Nikolay went below as I took over the watch.  I couldn’t help laughing with delight as I gazed out over the calm seas.  I could just see an amused God sitting up in Heaven saying “You snot nosed human, negotiating 3 ft swells.  Don’t patronize me, you shrimp!”.

On Monday we passed through the calm Santa Barbara channel, and crossed the gentle Santa Monica Bay.  Nikolay told me to wake him a mile from the Long Beach harbor entrance, which I was happy to do.  We approached the entrance surrounded by at least 8 container ships, 2 of which were actively heading for the same entrance as us.  We were out of fuel and I didn’t want to leave the boat with empty tanks over winter, so once we were safely inside the harbor we headed for a general anchorage, dropped anchor, and settled down for the rest of the night.  It was 3:00am on Tuesday morning.

In the morning light we were readying the boat for our trip to the fuel dock when we were approached by the Coast Guard.  AGAIN?!  The sweetest young man said, “Have you ever been boarded by the Coast Guard?”.  I said, “Yes, often!”.  He was a little disconcerted.  “Are you doing training?” I asked, “Would you like to come aboard”.  Yes he would, and they did.

They went through their check list, with the trainee doing all the writing while the trainer asked the questions.  By this time I am a dab hand at Coast Guard boardings so I knew what they wanted and where it all was.  Like Annie said in SF Bay, if a Coastie has to pick a boat to board, they will pick FastAlley because she is different from the norm.  So I get boarded all the time.

Afterwards we raised anchor and approached the fuel station.  It had 2 stubby docks sticking out into the channel and was not a dock that I would be happy approaching.  Nikolay said we should back into the dock.  I thought he was kidding.  “FastAlley doesn’t have steerage going backwards,” I pointed out, “she simply goes backwards in any direction she cares to go.  She only has forwards steerage”.  That’s what the previous owner told me and that is what I had found in the 3 years I had her.  FastAlley has a vicious starboard prop walk that I find useful for turning her in a tight circle, but which makes going backwards in a straight line just impossible.

Nikolay said that nevertheless we would back into the dock.  I said that if he dinged FastAlley I would throttle him.  He was unconcerned.  He turned my boat around and started backing gently towards the dock.  We went straight back as though tethered to a shore line that was reeling us in.  I watched fascinated as he brought us smoothly alongside the dock.  Not a bump.  Not a grind.  We just slid alongside backwards.  “How did you do that?!!”, I wanted to know.  He explained the technique and I’m going to practice it until I get it right – although I’ll practice with something softer than a solid dock.  It was a pleasure to watch.

When we approached my new slip I didn’t even argue – I just turned over the wheel to Nikolay.  Once again he docked FastAlley gently and smoothly and I stepped calmly off the boat and tied us off.  I have no idea how I am supposed to dock FastAlley in this tiny spot in future?!  I share an end tie with a power boat and have just 2 or 3 feet from my bowsprit to his stern.  I think docking here will be somewhat more exciting with me steering.  None of that “stepping calmly off the boat” when I am at the wheel.

My son and his family were waiting at the dock and were all excited to see that I had arrived safely.  Kevin had offered to drive Nikolay back to San Diego where he lived with his wife and baby daughter.  On the way I had a last chance to pick his brains on boat handling tips.  He had spent his watch hours examining FastAlley and had a list of about 20 incremental improvements I could make to ready the boat for an ocean crossing.  I jotted them all down.  He also got my fridge working on battery power again – it had stopped working after an electrician did some other work for me.  Of course, Nikolay  said that if I had mentioned the problem with the fridge when we left SF instead of when we arrived at LB then we could have used it to keep the milk and cheese cold, instead of having them float around in the melting ice in the cooler box.

After dropping Nikolay we all returned to the boat and the family stayed until around 7pm.  Then I had a glorious hot shower in the marina, crawled into bed, and put on a Clint Eastwood cowboy movie.  After 20 minutes I was fast asleep and slept like the dead until the sun rose.

The list of small improvements Nikolay gave me will cost less than $200 and will make a big difference to the safety of my vessel.  The big ticket items – that I already know about – are new solar panels and a new battery bank.  However, Nikolay had some excellent suggestions on both aspects.  For example, I was going to mount the new solar panels on the roof but Nikolay said that if I don’t flush mount them then the mainsheet will rip them right off during an accidental jybe.  I hadn’t even thought of that but as soon as he said it I knew he was right because I have seen the mainsheet whipping across the roof before as I practiced singlehanding and didn’t get to the sheet fast enough.

Nikolay also tested my new batteries and declared the starter battery defective.  The problem is that the electrician had mixed battery types when he replaced my burned out battery charger, which in turned had fried all my batteries.  The new charger has 4 settings, and when charging it had defaulted to the lowest type battery setting (the house bank) so that the higher quality starter battery had suffered over the past year.  Since the electrician had both installed the charger and replaced the batteries, I should have thought that at $65 per hour he would know not to mix battery types.  Apparently not.  So my new expensive starter battery is now ruined.

Anyway, we have arrived safely in Long Beach and I have a list of things to do before attempting any deep ocean crossing, although FastAlley could go as she currently stands if I wanted to leave tomorrow.  Which I don’t.  He suggested that I implement the changes he recommends then he would drive up from San Diego some time and go over the boat with me to ensure I had her ship shape.

Hawaii – here we come!

Crystal clear windscreen - finally

COST OF NEW ENCLOSURES:  $4450

FastAlley came with stratoglass windscreens but they were so clouded and old that I could not see out of them – even if I cleaned and polished them for hours.  The only thing they were good for was protecting me in the cockpit from wind and spray.

The new windscreen (before adding the rest of the enclosure)

Access to dinghy

Starboard opening

Port opening

New mainsail with reefing lines and Dutchman system

COST OF NEW MAINSAIL + DUTCHMAN + NEW HARDWARE + NEW LINES = $6200

In anticipation of my dream of setting to sea in FastAlley one bright morning, I took a long hard look at my mainsail.

There were a number of problems with the mainsail – mostly it was just plain tired but more importantly it required that I go upfront to the mast to raise it, and then return to the mast to work it down later.  The mast is not the place I want to be in bad weather – and definitely not when the deck is bucking and heaving as the boat faces into bad weather waves.

My intention is to install the Dutchman system which, I understand, allows one to reef on any point of sail.  Since I intend to be sailing downwind as much as possible, when its time to reef I definitely don’t want to turn from a stately downwind run to a bashing head-on position during a storm.

I went sailing in the Meditteranean a few years back and it’s a vicious little sea.  One moment the wind is a little blustery and the next the radio is filled with pan/pan and maydays.  We regularly went from deeply heeled  (which is when I fell completely OUT of love with monohulls) to having to turn into nasty sea conditions in order to reef the main.  Fortunately we could reef from the cockpit but the boat still pitched and fell alarmingly as we struggled to reef with the huge main slamming back and forth.  I don’t want to have to go thru those “Med” conditions when I am singlehanding.

Another problem with my old mainsail is when it comes down, no matter how careful you are in gathering it in, it still tends to fall off the boom, puddle in an untidy heap on the deck, and drape itself over the wannabe pilothouse which completely obscures your vision.   Manhandling the mainsail back onto the boom and lashing it down takes at least 2 struggling people.  The Dutchman system, besides its reefing capabilities, would also control the main and keep it on the boom.

My goal is:

(a)    to be able to singlehand from the cockpit

(b)   to never have to stand exposed at the mast

(c)    to be able to reef (my current sail doesn’t have reef points)

(d)   to reef on any point of sail

Robin of Hood Sailmakers in Sausalito came to the boat and removed my tired mainsail.

After a month I visited Robin in his workshop and he pointed out all the failings of my current mainsail.  First it was tearing in a number of crucial areas.  Secondly it had no reefing points.  Thirdly, and most importantly, the sail was never meant for FastAlley but was a bastardized mainsail from a small racer.   Robin pointed out that doing any work on the current mainsail would just be throwing good money at a bad sail.  He suggested we go back to the drawing board and get a new sail cut.  So that’s what we did.

During the first week of August Robin spent a lot of time on FastAlley installing my new mainsail, its reefing lines, the Dutchman system, the boomvang (which didn’t exist), and extra brakes so that I could do everything from the cockpit.   We went out sailing together on August 14^th to test out the new system and it all worked flawlessly.

A week later Annie and I intended to go out and practice sailing with the new gear, but Annie went down with a bad cold so that left me alone on the boat.  What the hell, I thought, the boat is set up to singlehand, and I have to learn to singlehand eventually, so this is as good a time as any other.   I must admit I was not blasé about going out alone because the last time I singlehanded it was on my little Catalina 22 daysailer – and that was about 10 years ago!

I find that the scariest times on the boat is un-docking and docking – like flying, it’s the take off and landing that are the most dangerous events.  For me leaving the dock is scary because if the wind suddenly shoves me around as I exit my slip (as it has done in the past) I could hit one of those gorgeous yachts docked closely all around me.  With FastAlley’s high freeboard and canvas cockpit enclosures and just a single engine, I have very little actual directional control especially when going backwards.  Coming in to dock is slightly better from the point of view that I have forward directional control, but worse as I have to do a tight 180 swivel to get into my windward dock – the windward dock being another disadvantage.   For me, (un)docking is my most (un)favorite time on the boat.

Boomvang collar thru mast

So I asked Bob on the boat next door to help me untie the boat and push me off.   Without Bob, I had visions of me shoving my boat backwards and the wind whipping it off while I stood horrified on the dock.  As it turned out, my exit was painless.  Bob pushed me away gently, I put the boat is very slow reverse, backed off carefully, and then I was free and heading out on Saturday morning.

I decided that it was safest for FastAlley and myself to get far away from all the other boats out there sailing so I headed for the isolation of the San Mateo Bridge.  No one ever seems to hang out there.  I wanted solitude on this my first day of singlehanding FastAlley.  I raised the mainsail, pulled out the roller-furling blade, turned off the motor and waited for the wind to fill my new sails.  And waited.  I checked my speed and I was doing 0.0 knots.  I wasn’t even moving over the ground with the outgoing tide.

I checked that everything was ready to go, cleared the deck, tidied the lines, and made some coffee.  I settled down to wait for the wind.  After an hour or more sunning myself contently as I waited, I noticed that I was getting pretty dozy.  That scared me wide awake!!  All I needed was to fall asleep with all my sails raised and ready to fly.

Then I realized that should I encounter issues and want to stop the boat, I should have my anchor ready to deploy.  It wasn’t.  So I went upfront and untied the anchor so that it was ready to run when released from its brake.

While upfront and hanging over the bow working with the anchor, I realized I didn’t have my PFD on.  I had placed it in the cockpit but had not put it on.  Not smart.  I went back and put on my PFD.

I made lunch.  And waited some more.

Port reef lines in new brake

Suddenly I felt a breeze on my cheek.  I strolled over to check my speed and FastAlley was already at 1.1 knots and accelerating!  As I watched we clocked up 2.8, then 3.4, then 4.6 then 5.7 – we were blazing along within moments of the breeze coming up.  I didn’t know FastAlley could accelerate so fast.  I was thrilled.  I was also off course.

I turned FastAlley and we hurtled south at an angle down the channel.  I  tacked and tacked just for the hell of it.  My first few singlehanded tacks were messy when I managed to tangle the furling line and found a knot in the mainsheet.  But nothing that couldn’t be fixed from the cockpit.   Robin had set up the boat so beautifully that she was very easy to manage from the cockpit.  I got extremely comfortable being alone out there on the water ripping along beneath a sunny sky.

I have had the hardest time sailing to windward on FastAlley which didn’t bother me unduly since I intended to sail the world in a gently downwind fashion but it suddenly occurred to me that maybe now that I had the correct sail plan, maybe just maybe I could sail to windward.  The best I had managed in the past was just off a beam reach.  I adjusted the sails to closehauled and visually checked our angle to the wind.  I don’t have a meter to give me the exact angle but I was pretty damn close to the wind.  I couldn’t believe it – FastAlley was going to windward.  And blazing along too.   Seems as soon as I got a decent sail on her, she started pointing like a monohull.

The wind kept climbing and as my speed reached 6.0 knots I decided to test the new reefing system.  I thought that I would most likely want to reef when FastAlley is on a broad reach so I turned her downwind and when she was going at a good lick I reefed as Robin had shown me.  It was so incredibly easy and even with the force of the wind in the sails as I broad reached, she reefed as easily as if I was heading into the wind.  It was effortless and we barely lost a knot.  Under the first reef FastAlley slowed down to 5.2 knots.   I thought maybe she wouldn’t go to windward with the first reef in, but she sailed closehauled happily as I brought her nose up.

I know it sounds silly but when you havent been able to – ever – do something, and suddenly FastAlley is doing everything and more, then it is incredibly satisfying.  There is nothing like a good mainsail to get a boat performing as she was designed to perform.

And the most fascinating thing about FastAlley is that she holds her course – any course – without locking down the wheel.  She is so perfectly balanced that you just point her where you want her to go on any point of sail, take your hands off the wheel, and she keeps going that way until you change course.  I tried locking down the wheel thinking that would help FalstAlley hold her course but instead she tried to round up, so I left the wheel unlocked.  I would pick a course, set the sails, and then walk quietly away from the wheel to sit comfortably and watch her go.  And go she did.

I found myself humming quietly to myself as FastAlley hummed along.  It was truly a spiritual experience being out on the water all by myself with the warm sun in my face, the wind snapping in the sails and the water burbling over the hulls.  I was in heaven.  I realized after awhile that I was humming Amazing Grace so I tried to sing it but it is 40 years since I was in church and I had forgotten the words.  So I sang the words I remembered and hummed the lines I forgot and after about 6 repeats I found I had remembered all the words.  So there I was – speeding over the water and singing Amazing Grace at the top of my lungs!

I sailed around for about 5 hours and then turned for my marina.  There were whitecaps on the water and my wind meter registered wind gusts up to 18 knots.  I am not great at docking so, faced with docking singlehanded and in high winds, I chickened out.  I decided to drop anchor and wait for the wind to abate.  I picked a quiet spot, dropped anchor, set my iPhone timer for 2 hours, and lay down to doze.  When I awoke my batteries were topped up because the wind generator was howling.  So I checked the wind – still high gusts.  I made dinner and sat outside with a cup of coffee and watched the sun set.  Wind still gusting.  Eventually I crawled into bed and went to sleep.

I had a terrible nights sleep.  The wind generator would kick in, whirl crazily as it charged my batteries, then screech to a stop.  As I listened to the wind howl all night I was sure that come morning I was going to have to dock in high winds whether I wanted to or not, so I tossed and turned with trepidation.  It didn’t help that anchored in the the Bay is a roly-poly place to try and sleep with steep wave chop coming and going with the wind and tides.  Between the bouncing and the wind I was pretty groggy come Sunday morning.

I was up at 6:30am, had breakfast and looked out on a grey, overcast morning.  My wind generator was still roaring away in the wind but I decided that I couldn’t sit out in the Bay much longer.  By 8:00am I was sick of being bounced around by the chop, so I upped anchor and headed for the bouys marking the channel entrance to my marina.  By 9:00am, even as I turned into my channel, I still did not have the courage to dock my boat singlehanded.  I chickened out, grabbed my cell phone, and call Hank and Sandy in the slip opposite mine and asked them for help.  To my enormous relief, when I turned into the marina there they were waiting on the dock.   They grabbed my lines and tied me down.  I was home.  And FastAlley was safe.   I decided to treat myself to a power nap so I crawled under the covers and within short I was fast asleep.

The new mainsail is fantastic.  As is the new reefing system with its color coded lines.  And the new boomvang that Robin created.  And the Dutchman system that he fitted.  And the new brakes and rigging so that I can do everything from the safety of the cockpit.   FastAlley is a dream to sail now.

If your boat is not performing as it should, then you need Hood Sailmakers of Sausalito.  Tell Robin I sent you.

The zipline course

Then I saw a short piece on local TV about ziplining in the Redwood forest and decided that it sounded like fun.  I had images of gentle movement through the forest canopy – like the scenes in the movie Medicine Man with Sean Connery.  I can do that, I thought!

So when my son Bryan was visiting for a week, I signed us up for a Sunday 11:30am gentle, swaying browse thru the Redwood canopies, ala Medicine Man.

OMG ! WTF !! AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHH !!!

Good Grief!  I had no idea it could be so terrifying.  There are 9 ziplines, and you travel from the one to the other until you rappel down 80ft from the last platform to the forest floor.

We were in a group of 6 because 2 didn’t arrive.  I said to Bryan that if I turn really white he should take that as a sign that I was REALLY out of my comfort zone.  A dark-skinned lady in our group interjected – No, if I turn white then it is REALLY scary!

We were taken to the Visitors Center where we waited for our guides to arrive.  As we sat in the shade of the Redwoods the earlier groups zipped overhead, and every so often someone would go by accompanied by their blood curdling scream as the zipped over.   I smiled to myself – this was going to different.

We had 2 guides for each group and our guides were just darling.  The male guide, Jesse, went across first every time and then received us as we flew over.  The girl guide, Alexis, prepped and secured us and sent us off.  She was always last off the platform.

The first zipline is easy, just a short quick ride alongside the mountain, about 40ft off the ground, and at a slow angle.  Also you are on a platform attached to a rock solid Douglas Fir, that stands tall and straight and nothing will budge it.  So that is fun.  And the ride is over so fast that you don’t really have time to think about it – maybe 5 seconds.  Bryan and I went last of the group of 6.  I can do this, I thought.

The second zipline is also short, a slightly steeper angle, and to a tree off the side of the mountain, so you zip across about 100 ft off the ground.  Short ride, a little faster but over before you know it – maybe 8 seconds.  Bryan and I went second in the group of 6.  I can do this, I assured myself.

The third zipline disappeared into the trees in the distance!!  It is steep and long and you reach speeds of 30 miles an hour!  I took one look at that, and BAULKED.  The guide Alexis is not stupid – she didn’t even react to my panic, but calmly and quietly connected up my son, and sent Bryan over as the first of the 6 of us.  I watched in horror as he disappeared into the trees in the distance.  Then she tied me up as I protested, knowing this dumb mother would blindly follow her offspring.  The birth bond thing.

I locked my eyes on the distant trees where I expected to see my son, and stepped into space hundreds of feet above the forest floor.   I think my heart stopped.

By the time I reached the platform and Jesse untied me, my eyes were popping with fright, I was hyperventilating madly, and my heart pounded at a speed that I was sure was calamitous for my health.  I clung to the trunk of the tree and howled – I WANT MY SON!!   Bryan prized my arms off the tree, and held me close as I sobbed out my terror.  I heard him saying to Jesse – “She is fearless on her boat?!  Nothing fazes her, not storms, not big seas, nothing?!”    But dangling hundreds of feet ABOVE the Redwood canopy at high speeds completely unnerved me.  And we had 5 more to go!

Added to that, the platforms were no longer on Douglas Firs, but on the more pliable Redwood trees that swayed with the zipline forces applied to them.  Nothing is more unnerving that standing on a tiny platform, way up on a Redwood tree that is swaying!!

Standing on a Redwood platform before scooting across this valley

I was still too shook up to notice that Alexis made sure that Bryan was first across every time after that – we me right behind.  She didn’t give me time to stand on the swaying platform contemplating the next run and losing my nerve – she urged me off right behind my son.

The next zipline was a short hop, not very steep, and relatively close to the ground.  I actually enjoyed it.  I was smiling as I zipped across.  I should have known it was just their bait-&-swap setup for the looooooong run across the valley!

The next zipline was a long run; so long in fact that the guides are worried that we will run out of speed and stop short of the platform.  So Jesse showed us how to lie back, and tuck up, so that we maintain enough speed to get all the way across.  The run takes about 35 seconds across the valley  and you are above the canopy with the trees waaaaaaay down there!  Again Bryan was sent over first – at this stage I was compos mentis enough to register that Bryan was ALWAYS being sent first – with me shoved off in hot pursuit.   I was wryly amused.

And way down there is the tops of the trees - as we balance on a tree platform

Actually, much to my huge surprise I enjoyed that longest run immensely.  Firstly I was getting used to ziplining, but most importantly, the angle of the line was slower so that I didn’t get that “rushing headlong to destruction” feeling.   I even took the time to look down and around me as I scooted along, all tucked up.  When I reached the platform Jesse said – You know, considering that you are so afraid you follow orders precisely, and you do it exactly correctly every time.  Well, that was more because I was deathly afraid to NOT do it exactly correctly in case I stalled in the middle of the run, and hung there frozen with fright!!

As Alexis the guide came over last she totally unnerved me by letting out a loud blood curdling yell on the way over.  I wondered what she knew that she hadn’t told us!!  I looked at Bryan in horror, but he grinned and pointed down.  We were at the platform over the Visitors Center so the guides were yelling for the effect on the waiting tourists!  By this time I was enjoying the ride so I got the joke.

Then you have to climb up a 30ft circular staircase securely bolted around the Redwood – not too scary.  And cross 2 swaying sky bridges – also not scary because you are not too far off the ground.  Nevertheless I moved with extreme caution.  Then a quick zipline to the last platform before rappelling off.

Okay, I have seen rappelling on the Discovery Channel and when someone else is doing it, it looks easy.  Jesse went first and assured us that even if we literally faint from fright (I didn’t want to hear that) then he would control our descent from below and bring us down safely anyway.

I wasn’t fussed about this part – I thought – but I refused to go first.  I was done with the “going first” thing.  And Alexis seemed to know that if Bryan went first then when it was my turn I would baulk and refuse to move altogether.   Then I would spend the entire weekend on that platform 80ft up in the air.

So another of our group went first – the bravest one – and she stood on the edge of the platform, suspended 80ft above the ground, and smiled happily for the camera.

While I protested and hung back, Alexis calmly and without any fuss, connected me up.  I refused to step off the platform into space and started crying again.  I CANT DO THIS, I wailed as tears ran down my face.  Sure you can, urged Alexis as she patted me gently, the way I did to my kids when they were small and baulked.

Staircase up the Redwood

Air bridge

Hanging 8 storeys above the forest floor

Her patting was really just gentle urging and pretty soon I was standing on the edge of the platform refusing to look down.  Then I somehow stepped into space.  I know the guide didnt push me because any slight pressure on my back and I would have backed up hurriedly until my rear was securely stuck on the tree trunk!   So somehow they managed to urge me over and out.  I dangled, frozen with fright.  Bryan whipped out the camera and urged me to lower myself so he could take pictures.  But I had a death grip on the line and didn’t move an inch – I just dangled there.  Eventually, with gentle urging from Alexis and Bryan I let up the death grip and slid down a few inches.  Then I stopped again, and dangled, utterly frozen.  More urging, another few inches.

Eventually I had hung up there for long enough without falling to a horrible death 80-ft below, that I gained a smidgen of confidence.  So I slowly released my death grip on the rappel line and gently slid downwards, in a very slow controlled descent.  I kept my eyes fixed on Bryan with an unwavering stare.  No mongoose ever stared so fixedly at a cobra.

After what seemed like ages and Bryan seemed very far away, I yelled up at my son – How am I doing?… thinking I was just inches from the ground.  He assured me I was dropping just fine which caused me to inadvertently glance down.  To my horror I was less than a quarter of the way down the tree!!   The forest floor was still forever away, hidden down there in the gloom.

reaching the forest floor - terrified

I fixed my eyes on Bryan again and loosened my death grip on the rope and slid faster.  I was in a hurry to hit terra firma – or in my case, terror firmer.

When I reached the ground Jesse reached to unclip me but I said, Wait.  I need to cry first.  And burst into tears again.  He was so sweet and patiently held me while I bawled out my fear against his chest.  He didnt rush me and when I finally calmed down he unclipped me.

Those guides are Saints!!

We walked back to the Visitors Center to remove our zipline gear and overhead a person let off a loooooong, bloodcurdling scream.  Alexis, our guide said nonchalantly – Oh, that’s Kate, she has the best scream.  I noticed that all the tourists waiting their turn to gear up, looked up nervously.

I can honestly say, without a shadow of a doubt, that I have ZERO intention of ever ziplining again!  And that goes for rappelling as well.  Medicine Man never did it like this!

Overall the trip through the trees took about 2.5 hours.  At each (tiny, swaying) platform the knowledgeable guides would assemble us and explain the forest, the trees around, and the eco-system (did you know that the forest system in the 1800s was so extensive that a squirrel could jump from tree to tree from New York to the Mississippi?).  The pauses on the platforms between ziplining were interesting and informative, and more importantly gave my adrenalin a chance to stop SQUIRTING at high speed into my system.  My body was in high gear for fight-or-fllght, and since the fight option was eliminated that just left me with flight mode which, since I was hundreds of feet up in the Redwood Canopy, really meant FRIGHT mode.

Bryan said he thought I was very brave.  He said he can still clearly remember when he was about 5 years old and I decided to take him up Table Mountain in Cape Town.  I remember that I stepped into the cable car confidently enough and it slowly took off.  Suddenly the ground dropped sharply away from us as the cable car climbed almost vertically to the table top 3000-ft up.  My legs gave way in horror and I slid to the floor in shock.  Little 5-year old Bryan (and Kevin my 7-year old) stood at my shoulder patting me with their tiny hands and saying soothingly – It’s alright Mommy, it’s alright Mommy – as I sobbed my way up the mountain.

So now as a 6-ft adult Bryan said he was very impressed when I signed us up for ziplining.  He thought by doing so that I was showing that I was over my fear of heights.

Clearly not.  I just forgot!

Bryan thought ziplining was an amazing experience.  He thoroughly enjoyed every second and said he would return with his family in tow.  He was ready to do it all over again.

Not me!  I realize now that you will never see the job description on my resume called: “window cleaner on a high-rise building”.

Here is how the Sonoma Canopy Tours explains their rides – it reads as pretty innocuous:

Here’s what you’ll experience while you zip from platform-to-platform:

Platform 1 – 2
Get comfortable at the starting deck known as Victory Circle. This junior zip will prepare you for the ziplining experience ahead as you enjoy your first breathtaking view of the forest.

Platform 2 – 3
Gain confidence on this longer and faster zip that will speed you along at heights around 80 feet off the canopy floor.

Platform 3 – 4
Now the real adventure begins. Look down if you dare: you’ll see the deep natural ravine almost 300 feet below, along with the camp that’s also part of our grounds.

Platform 4 – 5
Take in the panoramic views from high above the ancient Redwood forest.

Platform 5 – 6
Ready for a full 800 foot zip? Our tour’s longest zipline rockets you straight into an old growth forest—trees more than 700 years old that make the Coastal Redwood forest a timeless experience.

Platform 6 – 7
This quick change-of-pace zip lets you explore the forest views surrounding you and the creek below.

Platform 7 – 8
Get ready for a little workout on our one-of-a kind majestic spiral staircase. You’ll climb 30 feet in the air—just don’t forget to enjoy the view on your way up.

Platform 8 – 9
The pace slows a bit to enjoy the fern-lined ravine below. Suspended high above, enjoy the natural sway and undulation on our 175′ long sky bridge. Along the way, you’ll get to see “Walter,” the oldest tree on the property.

Platform 9 – 10
Take a breath and enjoy the view of Walter from another sky bridge as you prepare for the final zip.

Platform 10 – 11
Relish every second of this short zip to the final platform, where you’ll come back down to Earth.

Platform 11
From this last platform, you’ll rappel 80′ to the forest floor, while you see a large redwood burl “close up and personal.”

Complete your journey with a leisurely, 50-yard stroll back to Sonoma Canopy Tour’s Welcome Center.

Bryan with yet another leopard shark - catch and release

For the 2011 July 4th Annie and I decided to go back to Sausalito and anchor out next to Tiburon, as we did last year.  At the last minute my son Bryan called from Los Angeles and said he would be joining us for a few days, so Annie bought enough food for an army – aka one tall, hungry man.  Annie couldn’t find a babysitter for Gidget, her little dog, so we got another passenger.

Gidget - showing off on the foredeck

Hank and Sandy said they would buddy boat up with us, so the two boats set off on Saturday 2nd around noon, heading for the San Mateo Bridge.  The weather was less than pleasant.  Usually we put FastAlley on autopilot and sit up front with coffee, cheese and biscuits and watch the Bay go slowly by as we motor decorously up the Bay.  But today the wind was howling and kicking up substantial chop that flung spray all over the decks and sent FastAlley airborne as we struggled up the bay.  Obviously I can’t see how FastAlley performs in bad weather, because I’m a part of it and her, but with Hank’s catamaran behind me I could watch fascinated as Shibumi flew skywards over the waves.  I was taking photos of Hank’s boat as he flew along behind us, and he was taking pictures of us flying and covered in spray.  We had a mutual gawk fest.  With the tide against us and foul weather, our speed was down to 4 knots.

When I move my boat around the Bay I stick close to the buoys – I’m not brave enough to carve out my own route because I have bad visions of a 30-foot submerged mast, or 10-foot sunken rebar, sticking out of the mud and impaling FastAlley as I take a mistimed shortcut.  So I stick to the marked channels.

Buddy boating with Shibumi - a Gemini 105 all tricked out

As I left the final channel buoy and set course for the Bay Bridge buoy my way was blocked by 7 behemoth container/cargo ships anchored, and lined up sideways to me, for their turn at the docks.  As I slowly approached them I tried to decide if one goes in front of these anchored monsters, or behind them?

I remember once when I was making my way down the Long Beach Channel, I obliquely passed a tug boat at some distance.  But even though I was quite far away from the prop wash of the tug, it nevertheless sent FastAlley into a tailspin.  I watched fascinated as the autopilot did a 90-degree spin to port, tried to correct, and spun to port again.  I decided the prop wash of a container ship starting up suddenly would be more than FastAlley should bear, so I chose to pass in front of the anchored ships.  I figured if it suddenly lifted anchor then I would do a 180 and run back down the channel.  Annie assured me there would be nothing “sudden” about lifting anchor!  Any up-anchor of a container ship is a major production including tugs, horns, and whistles, and lots of busy activity for at least 30 minutes before anything actually moved.  So we passed uneventfully in front of the ships.  It is quite daunting as you pass by to realize that my whole boat is probably the same size as just their anchor!  Hank said he had fallen asleep and Sandy was steering and when he woke up he found himself surrounded by monster ships!

We moved along the waterfront then turned for Richardson Bay which took us west of Alcatraz.  Every time we cross The Slot – the strip of channel running from the Golden Gate Bridge to Alcatraz – we get hit by high waves as the wind howls in from the open sea and funnels into the Bay at ferocious speeds.  Today was no exception, if anything it was the worst wave conditions I have hit in the Bay so far.  We struggled forward but even though our speed was good I could see that relative to our bearing on Alcatraz, we had not moved forward at all in the last 5 minutes.  Our forward motion matched the push back from the high waves, so our motion was stalled.

Bryan was watching Hank behind us getting all beat up, as were we.  Looking back at Shibumi, we were very impressed that Sandy was brave enough to sit right upfront in those high seas.  Earlier Sandy had gone forward to sit on the seat on the nose but, she said later, that with the high seas she got stuck there because it was too dangerous to crawl back along the bucking deck to the cockpit.  Eventually Hank came over the radio and said he was turning back for the lee side of Alcatraz and I followed.  Annie, Gidget and Bryan were equally grateful to be out of the turmoil of that washing machine.

Its a Mother thing... you have to give advice even if you have never removed a hook from anything before

When we reached Richardson Bay, we both anchored at Cove Rock where it is shallow and thus Far from the Madding Crowd.

Bryan settled down to fish with his stinky bait, while Annie made dinner.  I had bought the banjo minnow fishing set and was sure I would catch dinner.  I explained to Bryan how the wrist action on the plastic minnow on my line simulated a dying fish, which was irresistible to any passing fish who was genetically disposed to attack the “dying” fish and swallow my hook.  I also pointed out that plastic fish did not smell or stink up my fingers.  Bryan was not convinced and stuck to his stinky bait and pretty soon was fighting some huge fish.  He fought it for 15 minutes before it broke the line and took off.

Bryan disrespectful of my plastic minnow

Then he caught a 4ft leopard shark.  Annie said that Tiburon means shark and that Richardson Bay is known as a leopard shark nursery and haven.  Bryan wrestled his newest shark onto the deck for a photo shoot before releasing it.  Meanwhile the entire stock of fish in the Bay ignored my plastic minnow.

Fish are ignoring my banjo minnow

In the quiet bouts between catching leopard sharks, Bryan would muse on my banjo minnow.  Maybe it was my wrist action, he said with a wicked grin.  I assured him I was doing exactly what the instruction DVD said; it was simply that the fish were too dumb to notice my superior fishing skill.  Bryan suggested that maybe I should soak my plastic banjo minnow in bait pheromones?  I pointed out that the whole idea of plastic fish meant I didn’t have to have stinky hands.

Five hours of minnow wrist action later, Bryan was admiring my tenacity as yet another shark leapt on his line.  I pointed out that I was fishing for our supper, whereas all he got was photos.

I should have pointed out that some mothers eat their young!

Mother and Son

Sausalito's houseboat community - c/o Google Earth

The 4-corners houseboat

Sunday morning dawned so Bryan and I enthusiastically manhandled the dinghy into the water, and dropped the engine onto its transom.  While there were no waves in Richardson Bay, there was a considerable swell running and it took some coordination between us not to drop the outboard in the Bay!  Annie watched from the deck with misgivings.  At one point I was nearly decapitated as the engine propelled us under FastAlley between the starboard ama and central hull.  At the same time the swell hurled us up under FastAlley and I flung myself backwards into the bottom of the dinghy to avoid having my head crushed on the underside of the deck, with the sudden upward swoop.

The Pirate House

I wanted to do a tour of the houseboats of Sausalito but Annie refused to get into the dinghy.  She said this was Gidget’s first time on the water and she didn’t want to subject her dog to yet another new experience.  Gidget meanwhile was digging a hole in the deck trying to get under the stanchions and leap into the dinghy to join us.  That little dog was ready to go-go.  Personally I think Annie wouldn’t get into the dinghy because decapitation was not high on her Bucket List.

Bryan and I set off across Richardson Bay heading for the houseboat section.  The little houseboat community is magical with floating homes of every shape and size from multi-level mansions to modest little colorful shacks.  We motored around slowly while I happily snapped away.  Eventually I ran out of memory space on my camera card and had to regretfully delete some pics as I saw yet another floating home that I just had to snap.  Bryan waited patiently as mother (me) ruefully paged thru my new pics, deleting some, then he started up the engine again for more touring after I had freed up some memory.  Sometimes technology can be so annoying.  Bryan reassured me it was the tool that was at fault and not the user.  Brat.

The Hippie Commune - with its flotilla of dinks

I was specifically searching for the Taj Mahal houseboat that I had read about in the Architectural Digest.  We explored every nook and cranny of the houseboat village but didn’t see it.  Eventually we stopped to ask directions and the friendly man told us where to go.  As we made our way back down the channel towards the Taj Mahal we passed the building that housed the Bay Model – which happily was on my List of ThingsToDo.  So we found a rickety public dock, chained the dinghy to the dock, and walked back towards the building.  As we walked, we passed a chatty couple who kept pace with us and told us about an organic ice cream shop that we just had to try.

The Bay Model - Red Rock and the Richmond Bridge

The Bay Model building is under construction so there is no water in the model at the moment, but it is still a worthwhile visit.  It is the size of two football fields and encompasses the San Francisco Bay and the Sacramento Delta.  It is HUGE!!!  And fascinating.  It was built by the Corps of Engineers as a way to test “bright ideas” before inflicting them for real on the Estuary.  Apparently many “bright ideas” never saw the light of day – fortunately – when the model highlighted their awful impact.  The model was continuously in use for decades as scientists used it for R&D.  Today it is used for educational purposes.  It is well worth a visit – with or without its water.

The Bay Model - the Golden Gate Bridge with its 500ft deep channel that the sea has carved out

As we walked back to the dinghy we detoured past CIBO, the organic ice cream shop.  For $20 we got 2 small lemonades, 2 small ice creams, and some small change.  I’m guessing that an early retirement is on the CIBO owners’ Bucket List!!

Once back on the dinghy we resumed our search down the channel for the Taj Mahal.  It is less of a houseboat and more of a beautifully restored home on a barge, really.  It stands alone in a marina with a fabulous front-and-center view of the Sausalito Bay and protected by the wash of the bay by a breakwater.  I had to delete more pics, this time of the Bay Model, to fit in 3 shots of the Taj.

The Taj Mahal houseboat

Then back to the boat.  I resumed fishing with my plastic fish – with its realistic dying action – but again failed to catch anything.  Clearly the fish in Richardson Bay are not genetically disposed to attack dying small fry, as the infomercial so confidently claimed.  Bryan said he had pretty much run out of sardonic comments except that at least someone caught something, even if it was only the infomercial that caught me at 2:00 in the morning.

I ignored him.   Annie made supermarket shrimp for lunch.

Hank and Sandy came by to ask if we wanted to dinghy tour the houses on the waterfront on the Tiburon side.  So we clambered back into our dinghy, and once again Annie watched us bouncing up and down as we hung on fiercely to FastAlley’s swimsteps…  and declined to join us.  Hank was trying out a borrowed 2hp outboard so we spent a leisurely hour side-tied to Hank’s dinghy as we motored slowly past the fabulous homes on the Tiburon shore.   This group of homes is in a different pay grade to the floating houseboats community!  Afterwards we untied from Hank and Sandy, and after such a gentle meander with Hank’s borrowed 2hp motor, Bryan just had to open up our outboard and carve and surf thru the swell on the way back to our boat!    It was fun.

Monday July 4th dawned – all blustery again.  Hank dinghied over and said he was going to move his catamaran closer to the Sausalito Channel where there was very little swell, and it was closer to the restaurants.  He also wanted to see the parade and stay for the fireworks show that evening.  I had to work Tuesday so I couldn’t stay for the fireworks otherwise we would get back to our dock at 2:00am – just in time for another infomercial.   Maybe its time for a Infomercial Intervention!

Besides, we wanted to go back down the channel and fish at the Shoal.  I was sure the sturgeon hanging out at the shoal would love dying plastic minnows.  We upped anchor and turned for home.

By the time we reached the shoal the wind was howling and there was a Small Craft Warning out.  We decided to skip the fishing and detoured to Coyote Point for fuel instead, then headed home.

We had a marvelous time over the holiday.  Gidget very definitely has sea legs and showed off by running around all over the deck.  She wouldn’t poop on her poop pads that Annie laid on the deck, and simply ignored them.  Then Gidget found the air vent for the marine head up front, sniffed at the vent, recognized the smell, and pooped happily on the foredeck.   A quick bucket of sea water and that solved that problem.

I asked Annie if she had refused to go on the dinghy because she wanted me to have alone time with my son?   Hell No, she said.  Actually the word she used was more expressive than Hell.  She just wasn’t getting into any dinghy that zoomed up above FastAlley’s decks on the swell, then disappeared under the boat in the troughs.  Maybe next time.

Historic downtown

We planned to visit Petaluma over Memorial Day weekend.  Monday 30^th was the official holiday and Annie and I made it a 4-day weekend by taking Friday 27^th off as well.  We slept on the boat Thursday night, threw off the dock lines early Friday morning, and headed north up the Bay.  We passed under the San Mateo Bridge, the Bay Bridge, the Richmond Bridge and then veered north across San Pablo Bay towards the Petaluma Channel. The buoys marking the Petaluma channel are close together with the chart showing 0 and 2 feet depth on either side, which is a strong incentive not to stray out of the narrow channel.

Eventually we entered the Petaluma River and within minutes Annie’s allergies kicked in from the myriad of plants that clogged the riverbank.  Miles of mustard seed, fennel, and grasses swayed in the wind and liberally disgorged their pollen so that Annie spent the next 2 ½ hours down below bathing her swollen eyes – and bored.

The countryside along the river is beautiful with rolling hills and farmlands, but with a surprising lack of animals.  I didn’t see any cows, or sheep, or horses – or even chickens for which historic Petaluma is so famous.  Just rolling hills.  One after the other.  The river curves back and forth constantly so I sat at the wheel for the next 2 ½ hours steering with no one to talk to – and bored.

We finally reached the bridge that blocks entry to the Petaluma turning basin and when it lifted we entered the basin expecting it to be somewhat empty since this was a non-holiday, but the dock on the west bank was already jammed with power boats.  So we docked on the east side of the river.  A very sweet, very drunk hobo insisted on helping us tie up and was so unsteady on his feet that he very nearly fell off the dock.  I was afraid to give him a tip in case he hung around – like a stray cat that won’t leave if you feed it.

The policeman manning the bridge walked over after we had docked and handed us the “secret” code for gate access to the west dock.  We found out that the code has not changed in the last few years and is a somewhat open “secret”.  Since our East dock was pretty quiet Annie and I decided to walk over and see if there was any party action on the West dock.  It was a beautiful evening and the boaters were out and about and spoiling for a party.  One boater had put down tape on the dock with USA written on the one side and MEXICO on the other.  He claimed it was the border and he had MX decorations and food ready on his side.  Everyone was very friendly and in a jovial mood but we were tired after a day at the wheel so we decided to hit the sack early and party on Saturday night instead.

Med moored

Saturday dawned overcast and raining – so much for the Weather Channel bragging about a sunny Memorial weekend with temperatures in the 70’s.  It was FREEZING.  And WET.  While sipping my early morning coffee I glanced into my dinghy and noticed that the line I had fastened to reduce swaying on the davit had chafed the paint off the dinghy seat.  I made a mental note to buy a piece of leather to place under the rope as a chafe guard.

Notwithstanding the weather, we decided to explore in the rain.  Well, I was eager to explore historic downtown and Annie was resigned to her fate.  During the previous week I had printed off a number of walking tours around Petaluma so we set off to do the Historic Petaluma walk.

Iron building - rediscovered when they pulled off the ratty old siding

Olde town Petaluma has some beautiful old buildings and we traipsed from one building to the next, with me shooting photos indiscriminately while Annie kept disappearing into the nearest shop.  I spied a short leather skirt on a mannequin at the door of a thrift store and Annie looked at me askance thinking I meant the cute little cowgirl skirt with cheeky fringe for myself.  But I was thinking how perfect it would work as a chafe guard for my dinghy, so I talked the price down to $5 and walked away clutching my prize.  It worked really well in the dink although Annie was concerned that the brown dye would stain the hypalon.

Meanwhile on the east dock more and more boats had arrived all day and had side-tied to me and every other boat unlucky enough to be first at the dock, so by mid-afternoon we were rafted 4 deep in the turning basin.  I was afraid that my regular dock lines were not strong enough against the jerking loads exerted on FastAlley, so we tied extra lines to ensure that FastAlley did not break loose with her flotilla of 3-rafted boats.  As I tied down the extra lines, I noticed the cleats on the dock moved and jiggled, so then I was concerned instead that the cleats would pop loose and hurl my 4-boat raft, which was weaving and jiving in the high winds, into the clot of surrounding boats.

By Saturday night the high wind and rain had dampened even the enthusiasm of the West dock and all was quiet on the western front.  Even the party in the yacht club looked uninspiring.  Since the balmy 70degree temps had never materialized, we had the heater blasting away in the cabin and pretty soon it was pretty toasty.  We had dinner, watched a movie, and settled down in our respective bunks for the night.

Sunday dawned clear so I grabbed my Tours of Petaluma printouts and off we went.  We headed in the direction of the Petaluma Victorian Homes tour – with Annie disappearing into every store we passed.  Petaluma has a wonderful selection of stores selling everything from funky pop-top jewelry to rusty chicken farm antiques.  I have always wanted to own a glass house with lots of glass art backlit by the sun so every time I saw a pretty glass piece I would also abandon our tour and dive into the shop to examine it.  But I guess California’s earthquakes would make short work of my glass house with glass art, so it remains just a dream.

Mini-cathedral

On the Victorian tour we visited a delightful catholic church from the late 1800’s.  Annie was brought up Catholic so she explained the beautiful contents of the church and their significance to me.  The church has gorgeous stained glass windows, marching columns of marble, three Rose windows, and an intricately carved marble baptismal font.  Along the walls of the tiny cathedral are a series of carved reliefs illustrating the last hours of Jesus, from Pilate to the Cross.  This little gem is a must see.

Walls of stained glass

As we drifted back to town, we lacked the enthusiasm to do the Hollywood Walking Tour, but then Annie heard blaring rock music so we followed our ears.  We came across an American Graffiti function complete with a diner surrounded by beautifully restored vintage cars.  The rock band played to a motley crowd of 50’s car enthusiasts and we ate delicious garlic fries as I snapped away happily.  I really am an incorrigible tourist.

Vintage cars lined up

Monday dawned cloudy but dry and we made leaving noises.  The Petaluma River is tidal and at 9:30am it was low tide.  There were already boats stuck in the mud of the basin as some boaters had tried to exit early.  FastAlley only draws 2 feet but the remaining boat rafted to me was on the mud.  I thought we were stuck at the dock for 2 hours until they floated free but it turned out that they had a retractable keel, so they raised their keel and they were free.

Unfortunately I was still surrounded by rafted boats 4 deep on all sides, with maybe 6 feet clearance at my bow and 3 feet at my stern for maneuvering.  Annie suggested asking a boat circling in the basin to pull our bow around and tow us out but I was nervous about giving motion control of my boat to anyone else, especially when I was so closely and deeply packed in by other docked boats.

FastAlley buried in a 4-deep raft up

Getting away from the dock was interesting.  There just wasn’t enough space, forward or backwards, to turn a 41ft boat at the slip.  I had to go forward a few feet, then the bow was grabbed by a boater and walked forward 2 feet along his deck, then reverse 3 feet, then forward till my bow was grabbed and walked forward along a deck, then reverse again for a few feet.  Annie’s suggestion of being towed out by the bow looked better and better.  Man, it was tight.  Imagine a car parked in a tight spot doing a 10-point turn to extricate itself – that was me and FastAlley.    Amazingly we got out without even tippy-touching any of the rafted boats that clogged the basin.

We exited past the boats stuck in the mud, the policeman opened the bridge for us, and we were headed down the river and homeward bound on Memorial Day.  Our 4-day holiday was coming to an end.

Pretty Petaluma in Pollen season had been quite the experience!  Within hours of docking in the basin FastAlley was submerged under a layer of pollen.  Pollen clumped and congealed around the cleats and filmed over my dock lines.  Pollen coated our clothes and hair, plugged up our noses, and clogged our eyes.  Clouds of pollen choked us and made us sneeze… if you have even a minor allergic reaction to pollen you don’t want to visit Petaluma in the Spring.

The ladies of Petaluma in the late 1800s erected a drinking fountain to discourage the drinking of alcohol - I thought this was the fountain

I have never been allergic to anything but even my skin itched from the constant coating of pollen.  And I awoke each morning with my eyes clumped shut.  On the way back downriver, Annie disappeared below for the next 2 ½ hours to bathe her eyes and relieve their allergic swelling with ice.  It was wonderful to finally reach the Bay and have the fresh sea breezes blowing in our faces and blasting the pollen off us and FastAlley.

..... It is not this fountain either

On our way up the Bay I had been at the helm – and a lousy job I did of that.  I just ASSUMED that a huge ship ahead was anchored because I didn’t see a bow wave so I ignored it.  Imagine my horror 10 minutes later when I looked up and the leviathon passed within 300 feet of us.  Then I was so busy taking pictures of Red Rock that I had us headed straight for the Richmond Bridge buttress.  Over the summer one works up a vigilant attitude from being on the water all the time – but I guess the extended Winter eliminated my watchfulness.

THIS is the fountain the ladies erected with its LOUD AND CLEAR message!

So with Annie at the helm we passed under Richmond Bridge homeward bound and noticed the Coast Guard in the Bay.  They were doing maneuvers and practicing retrieval and boat handling.  They paced us for about 10 minutes and I thought – Oh No, Not Again.  FastAlley got boarded on our last trip out when we went up to the Waterfront to watch the Blue Angels air show.  Annie explained the obvious… that if you are a Coast Guard on maneuvers and you have to pick a boat to board for the practice, you would pick something unusual.  And my trimaran FastAlley is unusual.

Eventually a zodiac detached itself from the mother ship and zoomed towards us with 4 young, eager Coast Guards on board.  They approached and asked; “Have you ever been boarded by the Coast Guard?”

I replied, Yes.

They asked, When?

I said, During the air show last October.

This caused some discussion as the young men debated whether or not they should board us again so soon after the last boarding, but eventually their curiosity to see the boat exceeded their caution about intruding yet again.  So they zoomed up and 3 of them climbed aboard while the 4^th followed in the zodiac.

The 3 men were very young, maybe baby 20’s and very sweet, polite, and friendly.  The leader was disarmingly honest and said happily – I’ve never been on a trimaran before!!  Which is why we got boarded, I guess.  One of the young men was obviously being trained by his equally young leader and as they worked their way steadily thru their checklist, they asked to see everything and examined the boat from front to back.  They were just darling, and intrigued with FastAlley.  After 30 minutes they assured us that they would log their inspection with the Coast Guard so that we would not have to be boarded again.

As the young men left, Annie said we should just resign ourselves to being boarded throughout the summer because if a young Coastie has a choice of boarding yet another monohull or FastAlley, they would probably choose FastAlley because she is different from the norm.  They were so curious and so darling that I really didn’t mind.

Annie was in control of the boat so I went below to doze for a few hours.  She roused me as she turned FastAlley into Redwood City Slough and we docked 10 hours after leaving Petaluma that morning.

The small city of Petaluma is beautifully restored.  They have a variety of stores that sell a vast collection of goodies.  Their restaurants are reasonably priced, the food is tasty, and the beers are inexpensive during Happy Hour.

Stud muffin - literally

The locals are exceptionally friendly and helpful, and everyone we stopped took the trouble to pause and point us in the right direction.

I highly recommend a visit to Petaluma.  If you don’t have a boat, then drive up there on the 101 freeway, and stay in a B&B for the weekend.  It’s a lovely little city.  You will enjoy your stay.

Lauren Williams in FastAlley's salon

Lauren Williams, the man - FastAlley’s designer

I bought my trimaran, FastAlley, 3 years ago in February 2008.  It is a Lauren William’s design so I went online and Googled “Lauren Williams”, but I found very little on him.  It was as though he had dropped off the Earth.

Over the past 3 years I continued to Google him every so often and occasionally I would find a chat thread with an email address.  I would email the people on the thread looking for information, but all my queries were a dead end.

Whenever I found a website where they talked about Arthur Piver, and his designer Lauren Williams, then I would email them looking for more news, but again a dead end.

Nevertheless, I persisted.

Then one day I got a response to an email where the sender said that he knew Lauren was still alive and living somewhere in the Bay area, but that was as much as he knew.  So I went to WhitePages.com and entered “Lauren Williams” and dozens of names popped up (wish I had done that ages ago).  Fortunately the website lists the age of the person so I selected those names with 60+ years old and left voicemails for each.  Lo and Behold, a Lauren Williams called me back and said, “Yes I am the designer of your boat”.

I had been searching for LW for nearly 3 years – I was just thrilled to hear from him.

LW in FastAlley's cockpit

I invited him down to see my boat (his design) and I was as excited as a puppy with two tails when he accepted.  We arranged for 10am on Sunday.

I was chatting with JohnS when Lauren arrived so John stayed around out of curiosity, and to tell LW that I had been wriggling with excitement the whole morning.  I really was.  I was so thrilled to meet the man who had designed my boat.

I had so many questions – like how does water escape from the base of the mast section?  Apparently it doesn’t, the builder forgot to drill the drainage hole.  But I have a fix for that that I saw in the Practical Sailor so I will implement the fix.

Another question was – where are the fuel tanks?  I know where I fill the tanks, but I didn’t know how to get to them.  Lauren showed me.

Lauren explained the interior of the boat and how he was the first to move the sides of the amas (or floats as they were called in the early days) out to increase the interior space, and most importantly, to allow one to walk thru the amas.  This was an innovation in trimaran design at the time.

LW on the bow

I also thought that the strength and stability of the trimaran was enforced by the standing rigging.  Lauren said not at all, the standing rigging made no difference.  He showed me the cross-beams that comprise all the structural strength of the boat – so now I know where to put the straps when I lift it out the water.

I proudly showed him around FastAlley, and as he headed for the front v-section, I said “Careful, you have to duck to go into that section”.  Lauren grinned, “I know, I designed it”, he said.

It was such a treat to have Lauren all to myself for the day!

We were doing a dummy test on some servers for work, and I had a meeting at noon that I had to start up, but as soon as the team was underway I dropped off and left it to the techies.  But by that time it had started to rain.

LW said, “So are we going sailing?”

“But it has started to rain”, I pointed out.

“Let me tell you what my dad said to me when I was 8 years old and pointed out that it was raining”, said Lauren.  “My Dad said, It cant hurt you son, it doesn’t have soap in it”.

I laughed, and got out my waterproof jacket.

We fired up the engine, backed out of the slip, and headed for the San Mateo Bridge.  Once we got there we raised the sails but there was no wind, so we drifted around waiting for the rainstorm wind to arrive.  I was still so excited to have Lauren all to myself on my boat that I was bouncing off the rigging.

FINALLY the wind kicked in and FastAlley started to sail.

I adore my boat – she sails like a champion with a wonderful soothing rolling motion.  The wind was around 12 knots and we were flying along at nearly 7 knots.

One thing about having the designer on board, he sure knows the boat!

I have never managed to tack my trimaran – to get from a port tack close hauled to a starboard tack close hauled, I usually jybe all the way around from close hauled, beam reach, broad reach, dead down wind, and back up to close hauled on the other side.  Various people have offered various solutions, but still I couldn’t get FastAlley to tack.  Lauren adjusted the sails, took the helm, and FastAlley tacked with disdain.  Guess what, I had been doing it wrong all along and was trying to tack my 3 hulls like it was a monohull.  I was so thrilled I insisted on tacking over and over and over, and FastAlley happily obliged by tacking demurely.  I knew I had a silly grin on my face the whole afternoon but I didnt care… I was on my beloved FastAlley and she was sailing like a champion.

The wind was also excellent for a fun day of sailing.  It was around 13 knots and it held steady with no gusts – terrific sailing weather.  Unfortunately it rained a lot of time so we got somewhat damp – but it was glorious being out on FastAlley with the boat designer at the helm, adjusting the sails, and giving me pointers all the time.  HUGE THRILL – did I mention that already?!

LW arrived with some catalogs of his designs which I will scan and show on this website.  I spent hours with Lauren dragging his history out of him.  I have spent so long trying to find out all about him that now that I had the man sitting in front of me, I quizzed him for hours!  I wrote it all down to post later.

On Saturday I had been so wrapped up in getting the boat clean and neat for Lauren that I totally forgot about food.  I scrubbed, and polished, and wiped, and vacuumed, and washed.

Once we were out on the water I realized that I had no food on board.  The only food I had was some crackers and cheese left over from past weekends.  I brought out my meager rations and LW was too polite (and too hungry) to refuse the food.  Once we had eaten the few crackers, I only had some GoldFish crackers left – which LW and I finished off too.  After that we just starved.  I was mortified to be hosting LW with no food on board.

Later I called my son Kevin and was burbling with excitement as I told him about my day.  He said, “Let me guess Mom, you forgot the food.  You ALWAYS forget the food.  Every time we go out with you, you only ever have moldy cheese and stale crackers that someone else forgot on your boat!”.  I burst out laughing, he had hit the nail on the head.  When I told him that was all we had to eat, he howled with glee.  He said, “Mom, you are so programmed that way!  You haven’t done that just once or twice – it happens EVERY time.  You never remember the food.  Now we know to bring our own”.

I have invited LW to come back for some winter sailing – and this time I promise I will remember to have (hot) food on board….. well, with my history maybe I shouldn’t promise?!

LAUREN WILLIAMS - FASTALLEY'S DESIGNER

FLEET WEEK – THE AIR SHOW

Fleet Week has been a tradition since 1981 and is a highly anticipated event in San Francisco. With an estimated audience of 1 million, spectators crowd the city’s waterfront to be awed by a parade of Navy ships, along with a spectacular aerial show that includes the Navy’s Blue Angels. The air show is without a doubt the premiere event of the day featuring incredible aerial stunts guaranteed to make you gawk and gasp. This was my first air show ever, so I was eager to get there.

Annie and I left the dock Saturday morning around 9:30am in dead calm conditions. It was a gorgeous morning. Not a breath of wind to ripple the glassy surface of the bay.  I put the boat on autopilot and we sat up front on the bow enjoying the quiet, peaceful conditions.  Every 1/2 hour I would walk back and reset the autopilot to keep us on course, but other than that FastAlley just toddled along happily.  We were the only ones out there.

We missed the ship parade because we got on site too late to watch it. We saw a few tall ships with all sails flying go by in the distance, but missed the main parade.

Then the air show started, and man, what a show that was.

http://blogs.oracle.com

I was awed by the pilot in a red acrobatic biplane executing dizzying stunts over, under, and around the Golden Gate bridge and to and fro between Alcatraz and the bridge.. His solo performance was spectacular and the most endearing thing of his incredible aerial display was that it was so very obvious to the viewer that he was just plain having FUN. You could imagine him thinking…. man, how lucky am I that they pay me to do this!   He looped, climbed, dove, and hovered all with apparent equal ease.   He did a kind of tail hover which took my breath away.   Just a few hundred feet off the water he put the plane into a vertical nose up stance of about 75 degrees, that is, about 15 degrees off perpendicular to the sea.   And he hovered there!   He never moved forward, nor downward, nor upward, nor sideways. He simply hovered in place for a moment… and a moment… and a moment… and a moment… which seemed to last at least a minute.   I didn’t know you could do that with a plane!   The eye-hand-foot coordination required to keep a biplane in a stationary hover must be jaw dropping.   Unbelievable.   I would like to shake that man’s hand.   Of all the events of the day, that nose up unmoving hover enthralled me the most.

http://www.fly.faa.gov - their signature formation

Then the Blue Angels show started suddenly and I didn’t know how LOUD those jet engines are!   Scared the hell out of me.   And the boat shook as they flew by.

Blue Angels over the Golden Gate bridge

The Blue Angels started with their signature diamond formation.   I must admit if I was the mother of one of those fly boys I would want him to find a nice quiet desk job.   Those jets hurtled past at such stunning speeds with their wings and tails almost touching each other during their four-jet formation.   They flew so close to each other that you couldn’t see sky between the planes.   Then just in case you blinked and missed the formation, they repeated the stunt upside down and zoomed along at sea level.   With the water so close, and the Golden Gate Bridge in front of them, there is not much room for error.

The “mother” in me surfaced and I kept praying that one of them would not even sneeze because any sudden micro-adjustment of their joystick would create a ghastly mid-air disaster.   At least the acrobatic pilot had the whole sky all to himself and was obviously so skilled that even if something went awry, you knew he would recover.   But those Blue Angels leave ZERO margin for error.   Its quite terrifying to watch.

http://tinypic.com fly by

The Blue Angels zoomed towards each other, trailing red white and blue smoke trails, and you could see by the smoke trails that they fly incredibly close to each other, requiring remarkable accuracy.   My depth perception absolutely sucks so I need a passing zone of 55 feet at least, never mind mere inches!   And that’s at a speed of 5 knots not 500 mph.   As I gaped at the Blue Angels stunts, my stomach would still be recovering from the last fly by, when they would come zooming past again upside down, or sideways, almost touching.    In my youth I was a gymnast, played basketball right thru school, was a very fast sprinter, and I played Wing for the varsity hockey team from the age of 13 to 18… lots of sports requiring good speed-eye-hand-foot coordination – but I just cannot comprehend the skills required to execute those stunning aerial maneuvers.   The mind boggles.

I think the head-on fly bys are for me the most jaw dropping although that might be their easiest stunt.   For me, watching a plane hurtling towards me while trying to focus on my instruments, would just unnerve me completely.   That head-on stunt made me hold my breath.   I heard that there are only 12 Blue Angles in the Navy worldwide that do the air shows.   I asked Annie why so few pilots existed and her response was basically, I’ll give you one guess.   See! the mother in me was right to be worried.

The jets hurtle by at such high speed that I didn’t manage to get one decent photo.  I got lots of pics of empty blue sky crisscrossed with smoke trails, so all these pics are copied off the internet.

THE FLEET WEEK EXPERIENCE

The Air Show was fantastic. However, the actual experience of being on a boat during the show was horrible in the extreme.

I was told by many of the skippers in my marina that I should stick to the waterfront and drive my boat up and down with the other mass of boats.   They also said that the vast majority of people on the water should never even hold a car drivers license, never mind be in control of a boat.  This was an understatement.

I must admit that sailors are polite and know the rules of the road.   And sailboats typically crawl along at about 3 knots.   Power boaters on the other hand, zoom back and forth, they think they own the waterways, and they clearly have zero regard for anyone else.   And judging by their bad behavior, they have already had 4 beers too many.

When we first arrived I noticed a large party boat stationary under the Bay Bridge so I decided that they looked like they knew where to go and I motored over and hung out behind them.   They sat unmoving in the water.   Then a sailboat with 2 men came up and hung out with us.   Then a dinghy with 3 men and beers joined us.   And a powerboat hovered nearby.

A police boat circled us and came over to me. “Keep moving”, the young cop in blue yelled at me.   I started forward but noticed that he didnt go over to the party boat, nor the powerboat, nor the dinghy, nor the sailboat – so I circled up and down slowly but didnt move too far.

I said to Annie – How come he yelled at me but has ignored all those other boats??

Annie said succinctly – Two women on a boat.

I laughed thinking she was kidding.

Its Bug The Bitches Day.

I circled a little trying to avoid the other stationary boats, but mostly hung out behind the large party boat.   After about 10 minutes the police boat of young cops – San Francisco’s finest boys in blue – returned and zoomed up to me again, circled aggressively, and yelled at me to keep moving.   They then roared off again ignoring all the stationary boats around me.

Again I said to Annie – How come he yelled at me but has ignored all those other boats again??

Annie said succinctly – Two women on a BIG boat.

I didn’t laugh that time.

Its Harass the Ho’s Day.

So instead of sitting stationary behind the party boat I moved slowly up and down and around it – always keeping as close to it as possible.   Annie figured that when it moved we should follow and let it cut a path for us thru the chaos of boats on the waterfront.   I was circling slowly when the cops returned, ran around us aggressively, and yelled angrily for me to move faster.   Then roared off again.   The party boat sat there unmoving.

I looked over at Annie and shrugged.

Annie said succinctly – Two women on a BIG boat with no man in sight.

Its Damn the Dykes Day.

Clearly the all-female boat was a huge affront to SF’s finest.   How dare all that oestrogen come to a testosterone event!   How dare we come without a solid set of gonads on board!!

Then the party boat moved and I gratefully got into convoy behind it.   We followed it up the waterfront then turned and followed a tourist boat back down the waterfront.   Then we followed another large tourist boat back up the waterfront, and down again.   Let me not write as though this was an easy feat.   Dinghy’s overloaded with men (not wearing life jackets) squatted stationary in the water forcing everyone to maneuver around them.   Powerboats with morons at the wheel cut in front me forcing me to back up suddenly to avoid a collision.   A-holes in powerboats cut in front of the party boat forcing them to a sudden stop with me right behind back peddling furiously.   Fishing boats full of extremely rude and drunk people zoomed about – in and out of the crowds – shouting obscenities.   And we two women on a big boat certainly got the testosterone flowing.   Frankly I was stunned.

And the cop boat spent a lot of time tailing us, as we tailed the party barges.

Catch the Cows Day.

This went on for FIVE hours.  It was a ghastly ghastly ghastly ghastly ghastly ghastly experience.   Never again.   Is this how women are treated if they dare to venture out without a man?   Or is it that SF being such a Gay city, they thought we were lesbians and therefore it really irked their male pride to see us out on the water??   Is this how gays are treated on a regular basis?  Is this how gays are harassed all the time?  Who knows!  All I know is that it was a sad eye-opener for me.

And my previous high estimation of SF’s finest boys in blue did a dump.

I cannot imagine that I would ever be insane enough to go to Fleet Week again, but if I do then I will

(a) hang a large banner from my mast saying “HETEROSEXUALS”

(b) buy an inflatable man doll and sit it in the cockpit with a beer duct taped to its fist.

Maybe then we wont be so harassed on the water by every yahoo with nothing better to do between events!

The afternoon’s entertainment was almost over as we turned for home when the police boat zoomed up again, circled us, and demanded we follow them.   At the time we were tucked in behind a large tourist boat returning to its home dock and slowly making our way to the Bay Bridge.   I didn’t question the cop, I figured it had taken them 5 hours to decide to ticket us for “loitering” earlier, so I obediently followed them into a tiny area where they indicated a dock they wanted me to tie up to.   I circled around trying to figure out the best way to approach the badly angled dock, and finally approached carefully.   The 3 young cops were standing on the dock, legs firmly planted, and arms folded across their chests.   They had no intention of being helpful.   As I pulled alongside the dock they stood stolidly and stared belligerently at us making no attempt to grab the rope that Annie threw at them.   Annie then jumped onto the dock and tied down the bow while I jumped off the back and tied down the stern.   The aggressive young cops suddenly disappeared to be replaced by 4 embarrassed young coast guards.

The young coast guards asked me – Why are you here?

I wasn’t going to admit to “loitering” 5 hours earlier so I said – I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?

They didn’t know.

They said – Did you perhaps go into the Security Zone?

I said – No, not me, I was following the tourist boats.

They said – Did the Coast Guard approach you and tell you to leave the Security Zone?

I said – No, not me, you must have me confused with someone else.

At this stage you could see by their faces that one had to have the IQ of a frog to confuse 2 women on a BIG trimaran with any other boat out there.   They all moved off down the docks en masse and went into a huddle.   Clearly they had no clue as to why we were there – and the cops who had brought us in and watched smugly as I docked while they refused to lend a hand, had bolted back to their boat and shot off out of there.

Its Lampoon the Lesbians Day.

The young Coast Guards returned. Well I guess we will have to board you, they said.

I was fine with that. Cool, I said, I have never been boarded so I’ll get my camera and take pics.

Faced with my obvious enthusiasm to undergo the novel experience of a CG boarding, they backed down.

They decided instead to stay on the dock and do a safety check. They asked for the usual… fire extinguishers, PFDs, vessel papers which showed I was the owner, throwables, etc.   After every request they huddled again clearly perplexed as to what to do or say next.

Finally they abandoned the pretense of doing anything, said their polite goodbyes, and bolted.

Up until this point I had been pretty mellow about the whole day – but now I was incensed.   Especially as SF’s finest boys in blue brought us into that tiny space with the awkward dock, and then watched smugly with their legs planted and their arms folded across their chests as I moved slowly and carefully up to the indicated dock in those blustering conditions.   SF’s finest.   Lovely.

IN SUMMARY

The air show was fabulous.

The acrobat biplane pilot was amazing.

The Blue Angels were spectacular.

The SF police were obnoxious little boys.

http://1.bp.blogspot.com

The port and starboard hatches give access to lazarettes. The center hatch leads to the bathroom.

When we brought the boat up from La Paz the weather was poor (being February up the Baja), and in addition it was uphill all the way to San Diego so we were pounding into the waves.  This is not a good time to find out that your forward port and starboard hatches leak considerably!  Every so often we would have to open the hatches, take a bucket down, and diligently empty the lazarettes of gallons of water.

2ft by 2ft hole of the broken center hatch after it is removed

The center hatch led to the bathroom and did not seal at all because the back latch was broken.  So that hatch was tied down by its handle from below and was duct taped to the deck.  All in all a very unsatisfactory solution for 2 weeks at sea.  Incredibly – yay duct tape! – it didn’t leak one drop although I was constantly worried that the waves over the bow would simply sweep the hatch overboard leaving us with a 2ft x 2ft hole in the bow!

Compounding the leaky hatch problem was that the bedding compound of all the 9 ventilation hatches on the deck had degraded over the years and almost every single one leaked.  Or was broken.  The 3 over the port bed (my bunk) leaked so badly that I was sleeping in foul weather gear to keep dry.  When the water got 3 inches deep on my bunk I took my wet sleeping bag and crawled in with my surprised skipper in the middle of the night.   His bunk was not much better but at least it was just very damp and not soaked thru like mine.

7 of 9 deck hatches - all 9 had to be replaced

So I decided that it was time to replace all the hatches – the 9 deck hatches for ventilation, the 1 center bow hatch leading to the bathroom, and the 2 bow lazarettes.  I asked a boat handyman for a quotation for the work and it was so outrageous that it quite took my breath away.

A few days later my monthly sailing magazines arrived and one of the mags had an article on replacing a hatch.  I read it and thought, It doesn’t look that hard?!  When asking the advice of a friendly boater in the marina he assured me – “Its not hard, you can do it yourself”.  And he repeated almost verbatim the instructions of the magazine.

My first hatch replacement - I was awfully proud of myself

So I thought I would start with just one small hatch and if I messed it up completely, then I would call the professional with the horrendous $-quote.  I ordered the replacement hatch from West Marine and when it arrived a knowledgeable assistant set me up with the bedding compound, cleaning alcohol, rags, handy tools, etc.

I set to work with a will.

Busy, busy, busy!

Firstly I removed the screws holding down the hatch and put them together in a container so that I wouldn’t lose them.  Then I gently dug under the surrounds of the old broken hatch until I could move the flat tool all the way around it.  Then I pulled carefully and the hatch popped out, much to my delight.  I worried that it was too easy!

I then carefully removed all the old glue and bedding compound and wiped the area down with the alcohol until the surface was smooth and clean again.

Then I gently rubbed the area to be re-glued with sandpaper to rough it up a little, laid down a bed of 4200, and dropped the hatch back into the hole.  I inserted the screws but only gently tightened them until a small amount of the compound squeezed out.  Then I waited an hour.

After an hour I tightened the screws a tiny bit tighter and a small amount of compound squeezed out again.  And I waited 2 hours.

By late afternoon I tightened the screws down tight.  I could see that the compound had dried to a soft cushion that sealed the hatch nicely.  I was enormously pleased with myself, although I didn’t know if the hatch was bedded properly.  The magazine instructions said – Don’t get the compound wet for 24 hours, so I decided to leave it a week.

The following week I returned to the boat and ran a hose over the hatch.  It was sealed up tight.  I was elated.

I scooted off to West Marine and placed an order for another hatch.  And the next weekend I replaced the next hatch.  And so on for the whole of the summer.

In all I replaced 8 of the 9 deck hatches this summer.  I have one broken hatch left to do which is over the guest bunk.  I will get around to that next summer.  I have the hatch already; it is lying on the guest bunk and it stares at me balefully all the time, but I just have to get around to doing the deed.  Now that winter has set in I tell myself it will have to wait until Summer because I don’t work in the rain – and neither does the bedding compound!

I also un-bedded and re-beddded  the large port and starboard lazarette hatches on the bow.  They weren’t actually broken, they just leaked up a storm.

The hatch I am most relieved to have changed is the large center hatch that leads to the bathroom.  The duct tape solution to a bow hatch is somewhat unsettling for the spirit.

So FastAlley’s hatches should last another 10 years.

COST TO REPLACE:

9 small hatches at $230 each =  $2,070

1 large hatch at $350  = $350

Glue, glue, and more glue – $200

Sandpaper and flat tool – $40

TOTAL =  $2,660

FastAlley is ready for the sea again!

The port and starboard hatches give access to lazarettes. The center hatch leads to the bathroom.

The weekend before I had put my newly repaired dinghy in the water and ran the dink around the marina and the channel for an hour getting the feel of it and how it handled.  I have never had a dinghy before so I thought I should try it out before committing someone else to a ride in it.  I figured, how hard can it be?

My ride started off badly because when I put the 4-stroke outboard into gear that first time I forgot to throttle down from the rabbit icon to the turtle icon, so the dink reared up – obscuring my view – and took off at high speed.  I shot out of my slip, ricocheted off the guest dock, bounced back into the channel, roared off towards an expensive looking yacht, and did a few frantic wheelies until I managed to kill the engine.  Not a very auspicious start.  However, after about an hour of alternating between careening and stalling, I figured I had the hang of it and returned my dink to my dock.  I was ready to run around Alameda over the coming weekend.

I had previously asked a delivery skipper in my marina for local advice on entering Ballena Bay and we went over the charts together.  He indicated my route and said I had to hug the outside of the breakwater all the way down the channel until I could turn into the marina.  That was the safest way because of shallow waters all around that bay.

I called the Ballena Bay marina on Friday to get my assigned slip and the harbormaster said I should head straight down the main channel, pass the first 4 docks, and we were the end-tie on the fifth dock to port. She said if I hit the fuel dock then I had gone too far.

Ballena Bay marina - Google Earth

Annie arrived Friday night and we carefully went over my NOAA nautical charts, examining our intended route and studying a satellite photo of the Ballena Bay marina that I found on Google Earth.  I am always extremely cautious when traveling somewhere that I have never been, and always carefully examine my charts.  I also like everyone on board to know where we are going and how to get there and back using the official NOAA charts.  Careful navigation is critical whether you are out to sea, coastal cruising, or running around the San Francisco Bay.  At any rate, I take it very seriously.

SATURDAY

We slept on the boat and were up early Saturday morning.  Well, we meant to be up very early but only roused ourselves around 9:00am.  Typically the mornings are wonderful in the south bay, with gentle morning light and absolute calm weather.  And getting out of the slip in the early morning is usually pretty simple – untie the boat, give the boat a gentle shove backwards and out of the slip she glides.  Not this morning – the wind was blowing hard enough that Annie couldn’t hold the boat against the port dock finger.  I cant back out when the boat is against the starboard finger because the solar panels – which the previous owner extended 2 feet off starboard – would bash into the piling at the end of the dock and be smashed as I back out, so I have to back out as close to the port finger as possible.

Annie couldn’t hold the boat against the port finger with the wind trying to knock her off her feet, so I jumped off the boat to help, but even with 2 of us we were struggling to hold the boat.  Eventually with lots of semi-helpful suggestions yelled back and forth we got the boat going backwards against the port finger enough so that we could both leap on board, and I hit reverse.  We were free.

We motored up the bay with the wind howling thru the rigging.  As we approached the San Mateo Bridge heading for the Bay Bridge, it didn’t ease my tension any when the Coast Guard came on the radio and put out a high winds alert for the area and warned – All Mariners exercise extreme caution in the region of the San Mateo Bridge.  Any warm fuzzy feeling I had about Freedom and being Out On The Bay promptly evaporated.

It took 3½ hours to motor against the current and against the winds to Ballena Bay.  The winds were still so high as we approached the marina that I decided that we should anchor outside the marina until the winds abated.  I was reluctant to go into an unknown marina in a fat trimaran with high winds blowing me around.  But incredibly the winds suddenly died to nothing as we approached the marina buoys and by the time we turned down the marina’s main channel, it was dead calm.  We counted off the docks and identified our berth.  I continued down the channel to the fuel dock, did a pirouette, came back up the channel and docked facing the exit with my starboard against the dock.  Annie jumped off and secured the bow while I leapt off the stern and tied that off.  It was around 1:00pm Saturday and we were safely docked.

We only had Saturday and Sunday for our adventure, so without much ado we grabbed money, camera, sweaters, and drinks… locked up the boat and headed out for the afternoon to see Alameda’s famous Victorian homes.

ALAMEDA’s  VICTORIANS

Well, this is art decor - but a beautiful example

The city of Alameda was founded in 1853 and has a population of around 73,000 living on the island today.  A Victorian home should have a minimum of 7 colors, they say, and Alameda has the highest concentration of Victorian homes with over 3000 Painted Ladies built during the 1800s. It is said that Alameda has more pre-1906 earthquake era homes than any other city in the Bay Area.

(Alameda is also famous for its Fourth of July parade which is one of the largest and longest in the country.  It features homemade floats, classic cars, motorized living room furniture, fire breathing dragons, marching bands and lots of enthusiastic people. The parade route is about 3 miles long.  This parade is going on my list of places to visit for next year’s July 4^th).

We went by the harbormaster’s office and picked up a flier that had a rough map of Alameda about the size of a postcard with the borders of the flier taken up with advertising… you know, the kind they give tourists.  The harbormaster marked the map with various places of interest and we walked out of the marina up to Central Ave and turned right towards Alameda’s historic downtown following the route marked on our trusty map.  Having a digital camera means you can be trigger happy and I snapped every lovely home we came across.  We saw whole streets of gorgeous homes, all beautifully painted, with intricate and delicate embellishments.  I snapped away happily.  I had done some research online and I specifically wanted to see a special house that looked stunning online.  We walked and walked until we reached the Meyer House in Alameda Ave.  Aaaaaarrrggh – that wasn’t it – how did I mess that up??  The Meyer House is all white!!!  Well, maybe it is 7 shades of white, but who can tell white from white in stark sunlight.  Annie said that maybe they were base painting the house with primer getting it ready for its 7+ colors…..  but I would not be mollified.

Annie sitting on a carriage stop - with ring for tying horses

We continued on down Alameda Ave until we reached the historic city section.  By this time we had been walking for over 3 hours and we were hungry and thirsty.  We stopped for falafels at a little Mediterranean eatery and the food was delicious.  Then Annie spotted a museum which we visited.  They had a wonderful collection of Victorian artifacts as well as a glass cabinet displaying beautifully beaded women’s purses.  Grandma’s beaded purse used to be tossed out as too old fashioned but today they cost a fortune on eBay.

Grandma's beaded purses

The woman in the store suggested we walk down to San Jose and Willow where a stunning example of a Victorian home stood on the corner. We followed her suggestion and after another half hour of walking there it was!!!  The beauty I had seen on the internet.  What a gorgeous gorgeous example of a Victorian home – covered in color, resplendent in embellishments, and standing tall and proud on the corner.  All the exquisite homes on Alameda pale in comparison to this one.  I stood and stared in wonder.  After four hours of walking my feet ached, my back ached… actually my whole body ached, but it was all worth it.  This is a fabulous example of a Painted Lady and a must see for any visitor to the island.

close up detail

more exquisite detail

By now the sun was low, the pain in my feet was high, my digital camera’s battery was running low and I was ready to head for the boat at high speed.  Neither of us relished the 5 mile walk back to the marina and so it was that by some miracle Annie spotted a taxi just then.  We hailed it and to our great relief it stopped.  Within 10 minutes we were back on the boat and I was flat on my back with my aching feet held in the air, draining the engorged blood out of them.  Oh my god but they hurt.  I keep forgetting that at my age I should be wrapped in a shawl, sitting on a rocker watching the sun set every evening.  Well almost….

Annie and I had talked earlier about crashing the party that night at the yacht club around the corner and checking out the sailors, but just the thought of putting any further pressure on my aching, swollen soles was enough to put me off.  I lay flat on the bunk, feet in the air, and complained until Annie shoved 2 Ibuprofen at me to shut me up.

ALAMEDA  ISLAND  CIRCUMNAVIGATION

SUNDAY

Sunday morning dawned beautiful and calm.  My feet didn’t hurt anymore!!!  What bliss.  I sat in the cockpit watching the morning’s activity as Annie cooked up a mouthwatering breakfast.  It’s a busy little marina where they obviously have a training school on Boat Handling because boats went up and down the channels, backing up, docking, turning, and maneuvering busily.

A monohull came down the channel towards me and someone called out for a 160 degree turn.  160 degrees, I mused, such a precise metric?  Not 180 or 360 but 160?  How peculiar.  I watched interestedly to see what would happen.  The helmsman executed a neat 360 and everyone hi-fived him.  I’m guessing that all of the crew on that boat failed Geometry at school.

Then a mature woman and her man came down the channel in a dinghy, the kind of dinghy that has seats and a steering column in the center of the boat (as opposed to mine where you steer the boat by turning the outboard’s handle).  She was in the seat with both hands on the wheel giving the impression that she was steering.  However, husband was sitting on the port pontoon with his right arm extended holding the steering wheel.  He was making very forceful turning moves and was clearly in control of the dinghy.  Suddenly she threw up her hands, said some choice words to hubby, gave up fighting his overbearing control, and released the wheel.  Unfortunately she lost that round because he simply took over control of the wheel which is what he wanted all along.  Why do men do that to women?  More to the point, why do women let men do that to them??  Assuming she can steer a car down a busy freeway at 65mph, why would he think she is incapable of steering a dinghy down a quiet channel at 3mph?  In fact, she is probably also capable of doing a perfect 160.

The kids on the boat next to mine are having such fun swinging around in the bosun’s chair that their dad rigged for them.  Their happy laughter is such a delight.  I must remember the bosun chair trick the next time my grandchildren visit me on my boat.

The channel looked much wider this morning than when I came in yesterday until I realized that all the catamarans and trimarans that clogged the channel yesterday were all out sailing.  When you have multihulls on the end-ties of the docks, each extending 25 to 30 feet into the channel, then your nice wide channel suddenly becomes very constricted as you lose 60ft.  This marina has an astonishing amount of mulithulls in it.  A 40ft Norseman came by and the skipper yelled out that the boat went to weather very well for a catamaran.  I immediately experienced severe pangs of “go-to-weather” envy.  My trimaran thinks that “go to weather” means find a sunny spot on the Bay and anchor!

The start of our circumnavigation of Alameda island

Around Sunday noon Annie and I pored over my NOAA charts examining the island.  According to the chart the channel was deep enough all along its length such that we could circumnavigate the island in the dinghy if we wanted to.  We decided to try.   Little did we both realize at the time, but the circumnavigation distance is over 18 miles!

As I placed my precious Charts back into the navigation station Annie laughingly picked up the tourist flier we used yesterday with the rough map of Alameda.  The map is not drawn to scale, and is not drawn very precisely in general outline either, but Annie said that it would be our chart as she laughingly tucked it into her pocket.

Map of Alameda, credits:  http://gotoes.org/kayaktours/20070128_CircumnavigateAlameda/

We dropped the dinghy in the water at which point I noticed that I hadn’t pumped the pontoons very firmly, or they had lost air.  In any case they were not as taut as I would have liked.  I dug out my foot pump that had never been used and found the obvious reason for this – I couldn’t find the connector that joined the pump hose to the pontoon valve.  Annie said, What are we going to do about this?  And I said, Nothing, just don’t sit on the pontoons.  And I flung the oars in the dinghy for good measure.

Annie insisted that we visit the fuel dock and fill the gasoline canister.  I was sure we would have enough gas for the afternoon but Annie was insistent.  As we dinghied down to the fuel dock I mentioned casually that I didn’t have much experience with dinghies and so she should be prepared for unexpected maneuverings.

We came up to the fuel dock calmly enough giving the false impression that I had the dinghy under control.  Annie crouched ready to exit the dinghy in a dignified way, and tie up.  I put the outboard into neutral but unfortunately I pushed the handle too far back and it clicked into reverse.  The dinghy started backwards.  Realizing my mistake I quickly pulled the lever forward but over-corrected again and the dinghy lurched forward in gear and t-boned the dock heavily.  I quickly rammed the lever into reverse again.  The sudden forward jolt coupled with the rapid backwards movement caused Annie to squawk and fall over backwards into the dinghy.  I did the only logical thing – I clutched my sides and rolled around hooting with laughter.

At the next attempt to dock Annie had completely lost faith in my dinghy handling ability and flung herself out of the dinghy before we even made contact with the dock.  We tied up, filled the gasoline container, and took off again down the channel somewhat more sedately I thought, with Annie firmly wedged up front not trusting me to get us down even the main channel unscathed.

In my defense I said contritely, Well I did warn you that I didn’t have much dinghy experience.  Last week was the first time I ever handled a dinghy but I did run around the marina for at least an hour, I asserted.

Annie said, One lousy hour?!  When you mentioned you had just a little experience I thought you were being self-deprecating and humble.  I didn’t know you meant you REALLY didn’t know what the hell you were doing.

I am claiming absolute innocence on this one…. In the interests of full disclosure I did mention it, albeit vaguely, up front.

Annie said she hoped no one was filming our fuel dock fiasco because otherwise we would be on YouTube by evening and viral by tomorrow with 2 million viewings.  Not to mention them winning $10,000 for their entry of us in America’s Funniest Home Videos.

We exited the marina and began our circumnavigation in an anti-clockwise direction.  We decided we would head for the first bridge that marked the beginning (or end?) of the Oakland Channel.  At that point we would see how long it took and decide to go forward or turn back.  The bridge seemed a long way away but we reached it in 30 minutes and decided to proceed.

We would go to Coast Guard Island and then decide if we wanted to turn back or proceed.  We reached the CGI in the next 30 minutes and decided to proceed.

We would go to Jack London Square and then decide if we wanted to proceed or turn back.  When we got to JLS we had been in the dink for about 1½ hours.  Annie hauled out her postcard sized tourist map of the island and we decided that as close as we could tell from that particular map, we were more or less half way around the island.  At this point we could go forward or retrace our steps to the marina.  We palpated the pontoons gently and decided to go forward.

As we made our way down the Oakland Channel towards the open Bay the chop increased significantly to the point where Annie suggested we don our life jackets, which we did.  Water was slopping into the dinghy at the rate of about a ½ a bucket per splash and very soon I was sitting in 6 inches of water.  However, the buoy to the entrance of the channel was just ahead egging us onwards so we decided that we would round the buoy/point and then decide if we would proceed or turn and run back down the channel.

At this stage we also decided we should start bailing.  Annie was wearing a baseball cap which I considered using as a bailing cup over protestations from Annie.  We were both wearing bras which gave us another 4 cups to bail with, but then Annie pulled out her little water bottle and we decided to try that first.  Annie couldn’t help because she couldn’t reach behind me so I steered with one hand and bailed with the other.  I was almost up to my waist in water and the gas tank was semi-submerged.  With the water coming in at the rate of ½ a bucket per splash and me bailing at the rate of one little water bottle at a time, it was a bit of a losing battle.  But I persisted.

I was hugging the shoreline so I figured we weren’t really in deathly danger.  Absolute worst case would be that the dinghy sank and we had to swim for the shore 40ft away.  And then we would use my iPhone which was sealed in a plastic bag to call 911.  No problem.

Eventually we rounded the point and were now in the open Bay.  Now the chop had turned to swells that hit us broadside as we turned south.  The good news was that the sea wasn’t pouring into the dinghy anymore.  The bad news was that we were rolling sideways over the swells which could tip the dinghy.

Annie suggested we “run like hell” for the marina.  I palpated the pontoons again which felt to me somewhat limper than 2 hours ago – but maybe it was just my overactive imagination.  The dinghy’s “run-like-hell” flat-out speed was rather more of a waddle as we rolled over the swells, which considering my lack of skills was probably just as well.

Note to self:  buy a hand pump for the dinghy, with all appropriate connections.

Since we were so near the shoreline, Annie was crouched in the front of the dinghy keeping a watch for submarine pipelines, sunken hazards, submerged rocks, and sandbars – or more accurately, mud bars.  I continued to bail and steer.

We saw another point up ahead and decided that must be the final point and then we would see the marina.  The broadside swells were somewhat unnerving as we flopped over them.

We rounded the point and saw another point up ahead and decided that that must be the final point before the marina.

We rounded that point and saw yet another point up ahead and decided that that absolutely must be the final point before the marina.

I had managed to get ahead with the bailing and was down to just 2 inches and decided I could tolerate sitting in that for another hour. My skin was all crinkly with sitting in sea water for so long, so I can now categorically state without a shadow of doubt that the southern regions do not like being submerged in sea water for extended periods.

We rounded the point and saw yet another f%#$ing point up ahead.  There was no sign of the elusive breakwater.  We were nonplussed – the distance from buoy to breakwater hadn’t looked so great on the NOAA chart this morning?

I mused aloud, I wonder where we are right now?  At this stage Annie pulled out her now incredibly soaked tatty tourist map that we had used as our “chart”, pointed to a soggy spot and declared firmly – We are right here!  It was such a ludicrous gesture that we both burst out laughing and couldn’t stop.  We laughed until the tears ran down our cheeks and we thought we would wet ourselves.  I was fine with that since I had been sitting in a pool of sea water for hours anyway, so who would be able to tell the difference?!

We dinghied onward in our now stalwart fashion, but every time we looked at each other we would lose control and clutching our sides we would roll with laughter all over again.  The contrast between our careful perusal of the NOAA charts this morning, and the incredibly soggy tourist map that Annie held was so vast that we couldn’t stop laughing.

We finally rounded a point and there was the marina in the distance!  What a welcome sight.  We cut across Ballena Bay heading directly for the marina – no fussing around following the breakwater this time!

Once we were well out and angling across Ballena Bay, the swells became fairly large following seas – relative to a dinghy’s size anyway.  We were doing some serious surfing.  Annie was looking behind to warn me of large swells while I concentrated on the front so that we didn’t get tipped over since it was now a very long swim to shore.  Then Annie raised the question of me dumping us in the drink by mistake.  I pooh-poohed that on the grounds that I had so much experience in dinghy handling by now that I was practically an expert.  Annie snorted – You have already admitted to only 1 hour last week and 2 hours today giving you a total of 3 hours experience.  Expert my ass!  Its just plain dumb luck that you haven’t tipped us into the sea already.  But I staunchly defended my Expert label and refused to concede on that point.

There were 2 yachts further out into the bay and as we surfed past them they both turned and followed us.  I maintained that they had been lost and were only too pleased to see someone who obviously knew the way and could lead them back to the marina.  Annie maintained that they were so shocked to see 2 women in a dinghy come surfing past them, that they decided to follow us and render assistance when I dunked us in the sea.  Well, I might have to concede that point to Annie, albeit reluctantly, because they followed us to the marina and then fell off when we were safely inside.

All in all it took over 3½ hours to circumnavigate Alameda Island in the dinghy.  It is an 18 mile circuit and an exciting adventure but not recommended for the fainthearted.

HOMEWARD BOUND

We got back to the boat around 4pm Sunday afternoon, hauled up the dinghy, cast off, and headed out while we were still both soaking wet.  During the trip back home we took turns to go below and clean up.

We got back to my home marina around 8pm Sunday night, exhausted but exhilarated.

It was a fabulous weekend.  Huge fun.  And Annie and I got on like a house on fire.  We found we are both Geminis we were born just one day apart, she on the 25^th and me on the 26^th.  I want it to go on record here that Annie is the older of the two of us – okay, its only by 24 hours but details like that are important to a woman.

Annie and I have the same sense of humor, and we laughed a lot.  We like the same music, and she can cook like a dream!  And both of us were happy to exit unwise marriages – good solid common ground there.

Annie is a good foil for me – I seldom think before I leap.  Annie wisely suggested filling up the dinghy gas tank, which never even occurred to me, and we would definitely have run out of fuel when surfing out in the bay had we not filled up.  That tank had just a few cups of gas left over when we got back home… although we did have the oars… and a very long row home.

She also suggested putting on our PFDs rather than wait until I dumped us in the drink and we had to swim for them.

And rather than motor majestically down the center of the channel in my little dink, she suggested I should hug the shoreline to minimize our swim to shore should I sink us.

And to seal my iPhone in a plastic bag should we need it at any time during the afternoon – it’s not as though we had an EPIRB handy in the dink.

I know that I tend to carefully study my charts for ages, and review my route with local experienced skippers, listen to their advice and take all the precautions they suggest – but otherwise I tend to live in the moment.  Annie is more practical than me.  I am boat safety conscious, and Annie is people safety conscious.

I asked Annie to write down a few of her thoughts on the weekend for my blog.  She said that any invitation from me to go boating for a weekend can be covered in just 5 words….. Be afraid, be very afraid.