Gale-force winds persisted for six hours on the final stretch of our Vancouver-to-San Francisco passage, but the storm finally abated in the night, although the seas were still turbulent for several more hours. Our crew fared well despite a comment in the log that read, "Don’t mix fig newtons, ginger, and mushroom soup. It doesn’t taste good!" (See The Art of Preventing Seasickness )
By morning the sun was out and we were cruising comfortably under full main and genoa. Cousin Richard and I were again in the cockpit, this time trying to get our cell phones to work. Richard was longing to tell his wife and the office in England about our previous day. I wanted to contact our youngest son Jamie, who was in Montreal racing a Laser 2 in the Canadian Youth Championships. Despite being only five miles off the coast, we couldn't connect and were extremely frustrated. Richard had paid for an international service from England. My husband Andy had just purchased a new cell phone in Vancouver, having been assured it would work all over the US.
[TR][TD][/TD][/TR][/TABLE][/TD][/TR][/TABLE]As I scanned the cloudless horizon, the irony of the situation suddenly dawned. We were missing a spectacular sail. At the same time Richard burst out laughing, "I’m forgetting that I’m away from the office and phone calls can wait. I came for the cruising and this is as good as it gets!"
As it had done for Sir Francis Drake in 1579, Drake’s Bay offered Bagheera protection from the northwesterly winds and we opted to anchor at the north end of the bay rather than arrive at San Francisco in the middle of the night. "What a great trip, but how nice to relax!" grinned Duncan, our son, as we lounged in the cockpit, drinks in hand.
A calm anchorage after an ocean passage is always an agreeable change of pace. What luxury it is to be able to put a glass down without it flying off the table or to cook in a galley without a balancing act. There is also a charge of energy that comes from the exhilaration of completing a passage successfully. We analyzed the trip over dinner, animatedly discussing the high points, low points, and a few necessary repairs, including our pending watermaker upgrade, before climbing into our berths.
There was a rolling swell, dense fog, and no wind for our 25-mile passage to San Francisco the next morning. It was an eerie feeling entering by radar, seeing only the gray, yet knowing the big city was just ahead. Channel markers suddenly emerged out of the gloom. They were crowded with sea lions eyeing us lazily, although a few lifted their heads and barked furiously as we passed. They were the only sign of life in the ghostly silence.
As the fog began lifting we could feel the heat from the sun and were soon stripping down to T-shirts and shorts. Suddenly there was an arc of metal ahead, floating on the ‘cotton batten’ below. Soon another span appeared, then the fog evaporated and we gazed up at a deep blue sky as Bagheera passed under the Golden Gate Bridge. To starboard lay downtown San Francisco, ahead the infamous prison island of Alcatraz, and to port was Sausalito.
"Where do you want to go?" Andy asked me.
"Everyone loves Sausalito," I replied. "It was originally an artists’ colony and is apparently really attractive. Also, it’s quieter than downtown. Let’s go there first."
The Golden Gate Bridge signaled our passage to San Francisco was complete, and that a major system improvement could begin. |
By morning the sun was out and we were cruising comfortably under full main and genoa. Cousin Richard and I were again in the cockpit, this time trying to get our cell phones to work. Richard was longing to tell his wife and the office in England about our previous day. I wanted to contact our youngest son Jamie, who was in Montreal racing a Laser 2 in the Canadian Youth Championships. Despite being only five miles off the coast, we couldn't connect and were extremely frustrated. Richard had paid for an international service from England. My husband Andy had just purchased a new cell phone in Vancouver, having been assured it would work all over the US.
As it had done for Sir Francis Drake in 1579, Drake’s Bay offered Bagheera protection from the northwesterly winds and we opted to anchor at the north end of the bay rather than arrive at San Francisco in the middle of the night. "What a great trip, but how nice to relax!" grinned Duncan, our son, as we lounged in the cockpit, drinks in hand.
A calm anchorage after an ocean passage is always an agreeable change of pace. What luxury it is to be able to put a glass down without it flying off the table or to cook in a galley without a balancing act. There is also a charge of energy that comes from the exhilaration of completing a passage successfully. We analyzed the trip over dinner, animatedly discussing the high points, low points, and a few necessary repairs, including our pending watermaker upgrade, before climbing into our berths.
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"There was a rolling swell, dense fog, and no wind for our 25-mile passage to San Francisco the next morning. It was an eerie feeling entering by radar, seeing only the gray, yet knowing the big city was just ahead." |
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As the fog began lifting we could feel the heat from the sun and were soon stripping down to T-shirts and shorts. Suddenly there was an arc of metal ahead, floating on the ‘cotton batten’ below. Soon another span appeared, then the fog evaporated and we gazed up at a deep blue sky as Bagheera passed under the Golden Gate Bridge. To starboard lay downtown San Francisco, ahead the infamous prison island of Alcatraz, and to port was Sausalito.
"Where do you want to go?" Andy asked me.
"Everyone loves Sausalito," I replied. "It was originally an artists’ colony and is apparently really attractive. Also, it’s quieter than downtown. Let’s go there first."
The fog-shrouded hills of Sausalito and the free moorings at the yacht club are an attractive combination for the transisting vessel. | |