Berkeley Shoreline Revelation

Saturday, September 17

From the day we arrived in Berkeley I had been seeing signs everywhere inviting participation in a shoreline clean-up this Saturday. Riding along on the road we didn't think the beaches looked bad. (Most of the litter seemed to be blowing into the roadside grass.) However it looked from a distance, I was sure there'd be some beach trash to pick up if the city had set aside a day get those beaches clean.

On several occasions I have participated in beach clean-ups, especially on the Olympic Peninsula, hauling off fishing floats, crates, light bulbs, empty plastic bottles and so on. Knowing the amount of trash and the effects on wildlife I am sold on humans getting out to remove the result of thoughtless habits that pollute our shores. It seemed like a good way to help out the wildlife of the beautiful San Francisco Bay we have so enjoyed.

This morning I pedaled off to the meeting spot, a big dusty parking area at the base of the peninsula where the marina is located. It reminded me of an organized bike ride or run. Hoards of people, families, organized groups and individuals like me, marched in with gloves and buckets to the sign-in tables. Next we were oriented and assigned to specific areas.

Patty, a local park employee and coordinator of the event, showed us maps and spoke to us of the problems in Berkeley. Rivers like the Sacramento flow into the Bay creating a sort of mega estuary. Trash is washed downstream to the shallow water here where it accumulates on the beaches. From the ocean trash thrown overboard floats around in the Pacific gyre, blows through the Golden Gate and travels across to the Berkeley shore. Patty spoke of single use plastics and how citizens need to work on laws that reduce production and availablity of this stuff. We were told we would work in groups of three, designating one person who would record data. I learned that we were participating in a worldwide day for beach cleaning and that documenting the kinds of pollution in each location was part of the project.

A couple of nice ladies added me to their twosome and off we trundled to the Brickyard Cove beach on the backside of a giant manmade hill of dirt. They told me we were walking over an old dump. Our parks department leader sidled through blackberry bushes (runts in comparison with the ones Seattleites regularly battle) and down a steep slope to the beach.

While waiting for the line to move, I picked up a couple of pieces of plexiglas and a candy wrapper, nothing much there on the way down the trail. We wandered off along the berm looking out at the sandpipers and willets wading in the shallows and the chips of wood, sticks, leaves and seaweed marking the high tides. The tide was way out on this calm sunny morning.

When we chose a place to clean, I sat down on a log and really looked at the surface in front of me. It seemed impossible that so many pieces of plastic could be mixed into the natural components of any beach. The talk had not prepared me for what I saw. At my feet were hundreds of small pieces of man made materials, almost all plastic. (See how many you can count in the 1 square foot photo at the top.)

Soon we were tallying the trash. Thousands of drinking straws, plastic bottle caps, pieces of candy wrappers, brittle chips of plastic bottles, styrofoam, cigar tips, spent shotgun shells, and of course, plastic bags of all types. Could this be the future of the world, beaches where bare feet run on plastic? Never in all my beachcombing have I found anything like the volume of plastic on that beach. Even a few hundred people working hard for three hours could not rid this spot of the horrible plastic bits and almost none of it was recyclable.

It was very discouraging to see that when we left the beach still needed a lot more work. The bright side was the amazing mix of participants. This was all of Berkeley. Next to me were kids from Cal talking about their community service ideas. Students from the high school were kidding around and competing for weird stuff they found. Old people, black, hispanic, Asian. We were all there talking about how to stop this problem from continuing to wreck the beaches. Over and over I heard one woman say, "I'll never use a plastic drinking straw again."

The citizens of the world need a wakeup call for the impact of plastics on our environment. Today's experience sure shook me up.

Cruising the Slot

Monday, September 12

After a week living on the SF waterfront spending money like drunken sailors on entertainment (Alcatraz, Fringe Festival, Beach Blanket Babylon and great restaurants), it was about time to move on. We crossed the Bay early enough for Charlie and Eric to pedal off to the Oakland West Marine to pick up a replacement for the step. It was a shock to see depths of 7 and 8 feet all over the chart of the Berkeley shore. Passing about 3 miles of the old Berkeley Pier pilings in 10 to 12 feet according to our depth sounder, we made our way to the Berkeley YC (free moorage) where we prepared for my sister Edie and her husband Tom to come aboard for an afternoon sail.

We set out mid-afternoon with a smart breeze in our faces, the chop building all across the Bay. Edie's friends Arlan and Chris, local sailors who had joined our crew, immediately assured us that we were seeing normal conditions for "The Slot." When I asked about this term, Arlan pointed to the GG, dead ahead, funneling wind directly into our faces.

This trip proved that no matter how careful you are in bending on the main, shaking down publicly will involve embarrassment. Sure enough, in rigging our second reef Charlie had managed to run the line through the third reef grommet. Eventually with a single reef tied in and about half the jib rolled out, we set off on a close reach for Angel Island.

In reading about the history of Chinese immigration I had formed an image of the island as a bleak flat field of barracks. In fact, now a State Park, it's mostly treed with just a few of the old buildings from its days as a fort, Nike missile site and immigrant holding tank. We found the sailing improved as we entered the island's lee. On the back side, Tom took the helm as we tacked up Raccoon Strait viewing Ayala Cove, Sausalito and Tiburon. The tide rips at Point Blunt provided some good surfing waves as we re-entered the Slot and before long we were back at the dock enjoying a little cocktail hour in the marina.

Alcatraz

Friday, September 9

Having bent on the repaired mainsail (great job Pineapple Sails), we set off for the Alcatraz ferry. The park service does a superb job of managing the crowds. Volunteers from the GGNRA addressed those exiting the boat with a speech orienting us to the island's history and facilities. We watched a short Discovery Channel video furthering our knowledge of the island's history, and then donned our stylish headphone sets for the complete audio tour of the prison.

Stepping outside, we discovered there is no better viewing site in the Bay for watching sailboat races, though you'll freeze your butt off in the process. Back on the ferry, we found ourselves in the middle of an Express 37 fleet (part of the Big Boat series which started the day before). We had front row spectator seats as the ferry captain steered the boat in a full 360° turn to avoid disrupting the race.

For dinner, we joined my sister Edie and husband Tom at a lovely French restaurant, Plouf, in the financial district. We dined on delicious mussels, and saluted the second anniversary of Bill and Cathy's world cruising adventures.

Labor Day

After setting the cabin to rights and assessing damage, not much other than the blown preventer and smashed door on the hanging locker, we set off for Fort Point along the lovely beachside walk. Everyone who could get outside was there, folks swimming and flying kites, picnicking, riding bikes, especially Blazing Saddles rented ones, dogs out for a jog and so on. We passed Crissy Field, the old grass landing strip from WWI days, and found Fort Point too interesting for our abbreviated visit. There wasn't time to take in most of the story of the Buffalo soldiers, displayed inside. However we did take part in a canon firing demonstration with Eric volunteering to ram home the charge and Susie hollering out the commands, "Ready, attention, load, fire!" (29 seconds, just under the required Army time allotment we learned. No aim???)

The club needed dock space so we moved to Pier 39 in the heart of tourist land SF, right next to the infernal barking sea lions. We admired the bar on the evening sailing catamaran, at least as wide as Gratitude's LWL, and ran off to the handy Safeway for provisions. Watched the movie Vertigo after dinner and went to bed for a short nap before a terrible splintering and grinding wave rocked the boat. That side of the marina had limited protection from swells in the Bay. This wave broke our metal boarding step and gouged a hole in the gelcoat.

Tuesday, September 6
The next morning we moved to the other side of the marina where it was much safer! Charlie stayed on the boat pickling the watermaker, etc., while Paul, Eric and I walked up the Filmore steps to Telegraph Hill and the Coit Tower. The parrots put on quite a show for us, flocking and squawking. We reviewed the mural of CA life back before Disneyland painted around the staircase inside the tower. Beautiful!

That evening we had dinner aboard with Paul's friends Tom and Liz who live in SF.

Safe in San Francisco Bay

Sunday, September 4
A day of motoring after the excitement of Gale Alley brought us toward shore through the foggy night over the coastal canyons north of Pt Reyes. I missed the incredible stars of the past few nights. We had light shows with phosphorescent pools shimmering alongside the boat, not kicked up by our passage through the water, but just glowing on their own, with occasional bright trails of the fish swimming through. The fog began at this point and continued, though not too dense, as we approached land, with daylight and a huge number of happy drifting fishboats.

It was fun to sail by places we've hiked at Pt Reyes and the Marin Headlands and watch the surf smashing up against the cliffs at Pt Bonita though the sea was calm. As the bottom of the GG Bridge structure came into view, we prepared libations for our passage into the Bay, brought out the Cane Garden Rum we'd purchased from the distiller on Tortuga last May, and drank to our safe arrival. (Just a couple of fingers...)

We snuggled up to the dock at St Francis and got ready for the luxury of their showers and dining room. Along the dock we met the nice folks from Iridium, a Victoria couple, who had been through the same weather as us and found it scary. We also read up on the Mayday call we'd heard two days earlier. A Tacoma boat, Gypsy Soul, with a broken hatch had made the call. The owner and his girlfriend were helicoptered off by the Coast Guard 120 miles off Cape Mendocino in 15 foot seas and 30 knots at the time of rescue, according to the news.

St Francis is preparing for the Big Boat races to start next Thursday. The 52 footers have their own Protectors hanging around with two 250 horse motors. Wow. We saw some buoy rounding practice from shore that looked great. Later walked past the Golden Gate YC of Larry Ellison fame to the very end of the breakwater where a fascinating park assembled from graveyard pieces and pipes creates sitting spaces with wave generated diapason like moans. Those were soon matched by our audible responses to the fantastic gustables at St Francis's Clippership dining room. No collar required on Sunday, family night. The hungry crew rose to the challenge of the wide-open buffet, salads, meats, made-to-order pasta, and desserts galore. Ahhhh!

A Gale of a Time

Saturday morning, September 3

We just finished our first hot meal since lunch on Thursday. Cranberry pancakes! (Perhaps your next few minutes would be better spent rooting around in your freezer looking for that half package of cranberries that you threw in there last November rather than reading on. Our crew guarantees that you will not be disappointed when you bite into those bursts of tartness drenched in maple syrup.)

Thursday the wind increased from the north til we reefed both sails for the night at 25-30 knots. By morning we had 40 knots and a tear in the main just along the luff just above the third reef point. Reefing again just after sunrise, we began what Charlie termed "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride." The gale blew in the forties with occasional readings of over 50 knots. The seas grew to over 20 feet while the wind swept away their foamy tops. Watching the big ones come up behind us lifting the boat to a wave top view provided endless entertainment. From the cockpit we looked out over a dazzling view of wind swept white water reminiscent of ski lift views over snowy mountain tops on a fine morning.

The ride grew even better when Paul noticed an orca slicing through our wake. It flipped onto its back and swam under the boat. Later another large one appeared diving vertically in a high wave behind the boat, black with white patches through blue water just a boat length away. Wow!

The boat does all the work once the sails are set, so we had a chance to study GRIB weather files that Charlie downloaded. They show little feathers on the wind arrows, one for every 10 knots of wind. As we sailed down the millibars toward 1009, the low, and to 40* N where there were only 2 feathers instead of 3 (should have been 4), we took bets on when the wind would drop. Charlie bet 3 a.m. Eric bet 5 a.m. Susie took 10:30 p.m. At 11 as we hit 40* 14' we saw the last of 40 knots. It was declared that Susie owed the others a fudge brownie sundae. (Crew justice at its best.)

Our best day so far 2100 hours Thurs to 2100 hours Friday, 168 miles made good (we didn't record sea miles), puts us a day and a half from San Francisco.

On the Edge of the High

2 p.m. Thursday, The First of September
Lat 44, 85 miles off Siuslaw River mouth, OR

Since we rounded Tatoosh Island, two days ago, the Northerlies have sped us along. At first the waves were steep and mixed up causing a rough first night and a midnight challenge for Paul and me as we double reefed the main in 25 knots by the starlight (and flashlight).

By the next morning the wind settled to 15-20 and a beautiful, warm, sunny day ensued. We were pretty tired as we made the adjustment to sleeping 2.5 hours out every 6 and lolled around drowsily during our watches. We wanted to try out the Hydrovane a bit more but decided to wait a bit til we were rested. Eric spotted a squad of Pacific white-sided dolphin playing around the boat in the morning. The next day we had a couple of dozen early in the morning surfing down our wake in 10 foot waves. We are still trying to sort out the shearwaters and petrels, but for sure see fulmar, terns and phalarope fishing. Lots of sea life along this section of the coast south of Newport.

During the night the wind veered a bit and we found ourselves tacking downwind to stay on course. Our southerly heading has taken us about 80 miles offshore, staying at the edge of the Pacific High. We can see cloud banks forming behind us but mostly they pass us by inshore. We're averaging somewhere around 6 knots in these unexpectedly pleasant conditions.

Charlie was happy to connect with WOJO and Chuck Steward on the NW Boaters Net this morning and has used the computer successfully to email and download GRIB files so we can see the wind predictions over the coastal area.

Techie notes: We had drawn down the house bank to 70% and wanted hot water for showers, so Charlie ran the engine this morning. He was pleased to see the alternator combination put out 220 amps. This is exactly as predicted, having set the regulator to 72% of rated output. We may bump up that setting later. The solar panels are helping, but shading by the sails and clouds early have kept output low. All in all, everything is working well. We'll enjoy it while it lasts!