This year's Farallones was too lumpy for DM and me. Waves weren't scary high, but they were really close together and there just wasn't enough wind for us to get through 'em. Lots of hobby horsing around for us and others, too. Then we went sideways a couple of times with no way, and it just became no fun. Had I not been taking bonine every 12 hours since Thursday night the cockpit would've gotten ugly, too.
Regardless, it's always fun to start, and it was glorious toward the gate and then under it; blue sky and plenty of wind and then ... less and less wind. I thought that, once it smoothed out past Point Bonita, conditions would improve, but it just didn't smooth out. The wind didn’t pick up, either, and I didn't have the patience to wait it out. So we turned around, headed for the gate.
Then I realized there were only 24 feet of water beneath us. Whoops! We had gone north because I thought the gods were smiling upon us: Great! Let's go this way before the west wind fills in! Right? Wrong. There we were at the outer northwest bit of the Potato Patch. Then I realized that it was good that we DIDN'T have more wind because we would have been in the wrong place for that. Silly me.
Into the bay we came and headed over toward GGYC where the OYRA boats were all starting for one of their summer series races. Threaded through those hyped up sailors and motored to a GGYC dock. Went inside and asked permission from Bob, the nice manager there, flew my RYC burgee and signed in. This reciprocity business. Me like it. Mike Cunningham helped me tie up but then he left.
It was nice standing around talking with sailors again. Like the old days with everybody from the Club that is Not Yacht. Wish we could have more of that. I'm looking forward to Half Moon Bay.
Regardless, it was a chilly night and we all huddled behind Joe's SUV. He had sandwiches, donuts, coffee, cookies, apple danishes and munchies. Plus all the equipment: patio chairs, a table, the antenna sticking out the sunroof, the pad in back for camper sailing, the shabby old VHF and a golf cart battery. It's alot of work being Commodore of a club without a clubhouse. And without a Race Chair, too. Thank you, Joe.
Grant Kiba and Sam McFadden used to work together, and Sam had persuaded Grant to bring his boat from Marina Bay in Richmond so the RC could hang out somewhere warm. Grant was delayed a bit. When he arrived on his 911 he was a little wild eyed, said that he had trouble getting around Point Blunt, something about 30 knots and the flood at Point Blunt. Said he had to try twice, laughed about the timing. He was a really good sport. Plus he brought that food.
Grant tied up at the next slip over from DM and made us all dinner. Seriously. He said he only had enough food for eight. We were fine with that because there were only eight of us. He grilled us sausages and vegetable skewers. And he had cold beer! And cookies! This is the man with whom to raft up next in Drakes Bay. All I had to offer were Trader Joe's cookies.
Then all we had to do was wait for those sailors to arrive. Must've been a real roller coaster out there and they all sounded weary at the end.
Here are some photos. All hail the 2022 Farallones Finishers.
Here's the first to finish, Jamani. Mulvihill the Elder.
Then Werewolf, Mulvihill the Younger.
Then, not in any order, Eos
and Pork Chop Express
And Kalia, with Steve Saul preparing for the Long Pac and his third SHTP
And I've posted five photos so I'll do another post of Geodesic, with Ralph Morgenstern aboard.
