Lightspeed
Willpower
Heard a rumor last night some of out best sailors did some low water sailing yesterday. Any stories to share or are they still up the river without a paddle?
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Muddy Water
- Thread starter Lightspeed
- Start date
Lightspeed
Willpower
The infamous Marker #7 I presume. Is the lemon bread part of your NorCal Emergancy Equipment?
Daydreamer
SAILOR
I went up that way a few weeks ago. I don't think that channel is entirely where it is supposed to be.
Carefully watching the depth sounder kept me busy ziggin and zaggin.
Met a guy who lives in one of those neat houses right on the river.
Carefully watching the depth sounder kept me busy ziggin and zaggin.
Met a guy who lives in one of those neat houses right on the river.
Philpott
Cal 2-27 Dura Mater
A sailing friend, let’s call him SF#1, mentioned that he planned to take his boat up to the Napa River Marina for a bottom job. Never having sailed up that way, I asked to come along. “Sure”, said this sailing friend. Then I asked to bring along another sailing friend, let’s call him SF#2, and SF#1 said, “sure”. So there we were, motoring out of Richmond Marina with a really big, beautiful outboard on a lovely day last Friday morning. La la la, isn’t this nice?
The sun was shining, the San Pablo Bay was shimmering, there were just enough things to look at, like that delivery boat towing a little pontoon plane. The kind of plane that you want next to your boat when you need ice from Pirates Lair. Yeah.
We entered Mare Island Strait and shared stories about struggling against the ebb tide at the end of Vallejo races. Ha ha ha. What did we care today? We were in the flood. We called ahead to a very pleasant bridge tender, who opened the bridge for us and waved down from where he hung over the rail as we motored through. Only six more miles or so to the target marina, at 38.21, -122.31.
Just past the bridge, as we turned back to watch it close behind us, our outboard stopped running. No big noise, no line tangled ‘round the prop, the engine just went from sounding wonderful to quiet. Sounded like it ran out of gas. Huh? Yes, that’s what happened.
SF#1 said, “Last time I motored up here that’s all the gas I needed. Guess I used my smaller motor last time.”
No problem. We’re on a sailboat! The wind is directly behind us, so we raise the main, then the spinnaker. As soon as the spinnaker is up the wind clocks around to port. We notice that the ebb is pushing us back toward the bridge, so SF#1 runs up and throws the anchor over. We sit and drink water, eat the Raley’s sandwiches that SF#2 brought along. Thanks, SF#2!
Time to reconnoiter. Turn around, ride the ebb back through the bridge and get gas at Vallejo Marina? Nah. We’re sailors. How hard can it be to sail upriver? Plus, look! There’s wind up ahead. And here it comes, right on our nose. Huh. Well, we know how to tack. How hard can it be to get up a (long, winding, increasingly narrow) river? This is an adventure!
So that’s what we did for the next four hours. And when the wind grew to 20+ knots? We tacked and heeled waaaay over and then tacked again. And yes, we did, briefly go aground at the infamous Marker #7, but that was nothing compared to what lay ahead. After lemon bread we rocked right out of there and kept going. Because that’s what you do when you’re a sailor, right?
When we got closer to the Marina there were houses and docks to port. Tied up to the docks were boats. There were motorboats, houseboats, multi hulls and monohulls. SF#2 was at the helm while his crew scrambled back and forth sheeting in, grinding, and breathing hard. We tacked at least forty times. Fifty times. Two hundred times, maybe. After awhile it seemed like SF#2 got bored, so in the biggest wind he would wait to call “ready about” until we were mere inches from the boats on the docks. Apparently he did this so he could confirm the type, name and length of each potential target, er vessel. When I gasped he said that getting close was necessary in order to not “lose way”, which is a specious excuse if you ask me. Then again, it wasn’t my boat. Neither was it his.
Either way, we were doing fine, slowly, making one last push toward the Brazos RR Drawbridge when we noticed a fishing boat anchored on the eastern edge of the river, in the shade of the bridge. Three fellas were leaning back in their comfie leather seats, feet up, cold drinks in hand, their fishing poles trailing in the ebb. Watching us, waiting to see whether we would make it through the narrow span.
And we tried. Really we did. There we were, tacking to starboard in 45 feet of water, in big wind, when we just stopped. Hard. That mud reached out and grabbed our sweet little boat and held it fast. The edge goes from 45 to 0 feet of water on the port side just before the bridge. Put this in your chart plotter for future reference: 38.2089, -122.3072. Yeah, there.
So the captain did what smart captains do: He ran up to the bow and threw that anchor overboard again. His crew lowered the main and we all wrestled it into some sort of order, then we sat down, drank lots of water and had more lemon bread. And chocolate. Sustenance is a sugar high.
We didn’t have a raft and none of us carries Boat US towing insurance, so we considered our choices carefully. Then I called Commodore Herrigel. It was my idea.
SF#1 and SF#2 were willing to wait for the flood, but SF#1 mentioned that Rick Elkins had come to visit him at this marina once years ago, so maybe he had a place nearby? I didn’t have Rick’s phone number, but I did have the Commodore’s number, so I called it.
The Commodore was sympathetic. Remember this when your mast falls down between here and Kauai. He listens well and sympathetically. That doesn’t mean he will get on a boat and come get you. It didn’t mean he was going to get on a boat and come get us, either. It was getting dark and he was probably going to watch King Lear or something. But he was very nice, and he called Rick Elkins for us. Rick was very sympathetic, too, but he lives very very far away and he wasn’t going to get on a boat to come get us, either. So, we were resigned to waiting for the flood, but it had been nice to talk to someone in the outside world for a few minutes. Just in case the alligators got us.
Meanwhile, we sat there and watched the fishermen, who were watching us. Laughing at us, I’m sure, but not being obvious about it. Thankfully. We were hot and sweaty and the chocolate was all gone. We were resigned to waiting for the flood, watching for alligators. Or pythons.
After awhile, when it became apparent that they weren’t catching any sturgeon over on the other side of the river anyway, the three fishermen motored over and asked if we needed help. Well, no, not really. But since you insist, thank you, that would be very much appreciated. Could they tow us into the marina? Sure they would, and so, after using much power to pull first our anchor and then our boat out of the mud, they towed us the short distance into the marina.
So thank goodness for the Salty Bitch and her skipper, who seemed to really know how to handle her. One of his companions said it was the first time he had been on the Napa, the first time he had fished for sturgeon. Now he has another story to tell, as do I. And this is the end of it.
The sun was shining, the San Pablo Bay was shimmering, there were just enough things to look at, like that delivery boat towing a little pontoon plane. The kind of plane that you want next to your boat when you need ice from Pirates Lair. Yeah.
We entered Mare Island Strait and shared stories about struggling against the ebb tide at the end of Vallejo races. Ha ha ha. What did we care today? We were in the flood. We called ahead to a very pleasant bridge tender, who opened the bridge for us and waved down from where he hung over the rail as we motored through. Only six more miles or so to the target marina, at 38.21, -122.31.
Just past the bridge, as we turned back to watch it close behind us, our outboard stopped running. No big noise, no line tangled ‘round the prop, the engine just went from sounding wonderful to quiet. Sounded like it ran out of gas. Huh? Yes, that’s what happened.
SF#1 said, “Last time I motored up here that’s all the gas I needed. Guess I used my smaller motor last time.”
No problem. We’re on a sailboat! The wind is directly behind us, so we raise the main, then the spinnaker. As soon as the spinnaker is up the wind clocks around to port. We notice that the ebb is pushing us back toward the bridge, so SF#1 runs up and throws the anchor over. We sit and drink water, eat the Raley’s sandwiches that SF#2 brought along. Thanks, SF#2!
Time to reconnoiter. Turn around, ride the ebb back through the bridge and get gas at Vallejo Marina? Nah. We’re sailors. How hard can it be to sail upriver? Plus, look! There’s wind up ahead. And here it comes, right on our nose. Huh. Well, we know how to tack. How hard can it be to get up a (long, winding, increasingly narrow) river? This is an adventure!
So that’s what we did for the next four hours. And when the wind grew to 20+ knots? We tacked and heeled waaaay over and then tacked again. And yes, we did, briefly go aground at the infamous Marker #7, but that was nothing compared to what lay ahead. After lemon bread we rocked right out of there and kept going. Because that’s what you do when you’re a sailor, right?
When we got closer to the Marina there were houses and docks to port. Tied up to the docks were boats. There were motorboats, houseboats, multi hulls and monohulls. SF#2 was at the helm while his crew scrambled back and forth sheeting in, grinding, and breathing hard. We tacked at least forty times. Fifty times. Two hundred times, maybe. After awhile it seemed like SF#2 got bored, so in the biggest wind he would wait to call “ready about” until we were mere inches from the boats on the docks. Apparently he did this so he could confirm the type, name and length of each potential target, er vessel. When I gasped he said that getting close was necessary in order to not “lose way”, which is a specious excuse if you ask me. Then again, it wasn’t my boat. Neither was it his.
Either way, we were doing fine, slowly, making one last push toward the Brazos RR Drawbridge when we noticed a fishing boat anchored on the eastern edge of the river, in the shade of the bridge. Three fellas were leaning back in their comfie leather seats, feet up, cold drinks in hand, their fishing poles trailing in the ebb. Watching us, waiting to see whether we would make it through the narrow span.
And we tried. Really we did. There we were, tacking to starboard in 45 feet of water, in big wind, when we just stopped. Hard. That mud reached out and grabbed our sweet little boat and held it fast. The edge goes from 45 to 0 feet of water on the port side just before the bridge. Put this in your chart plotter for future reference: 38.2089, -122.3072. Yeah, there.
So the captain did what smart captains do: He ran up to the bow and threw that anchor overboard again. His crew lowered the main and we all wrestled it into some sort of order, then we sat down, drank lots of water and had more lemon bread. And chocolate. Sustenance is a sugar high.
We didn’t have a raft and none of us carries Boat US towing insurance, so we considered our choices carefully. Then I called Commodore Herrigel. It was my idea.
SF#1 and SF#2 were willing to wait for the flood, but SF#1 mentioned that Rick Elkins had come to visit him at this marina once years ago, so maybe he had a place nearby? I didn’t have Rick’s phone number, but I did have the Commodore’s number, so I called it.
The Commodore was sympathetic. Remember this when your mast falls down between here and Kauai. He listens well and sympathetically. That doesn’t mean he will get on a boat and come get you. It didn’t mean he was going to get on a boat and come get us, either. It was getting dark and he was probably going to watch King Lear or something. But he was very nice, and he called Rick Elkins for us. Rick was very sympathetic, too, but he lives very very far away and he wasn’t going to get on a boat to come get us, either. So, we were resigned to waiting for the flood, but it had been nice to talk to someone in the outside world for a few minutes. Just in case the alligators got us.
Meanwhile, we sat there and watched the fishermen, who were watching us. Laughing at us, I’m sure, but not being obvious about it. Thankfully. We were hot and sweaty and the chocolate was all gone. We were resigned to waiting for the flood, watching for alligators. Or pythons.
After awhile, when it became apparent that they weren’t catching any sturgeon over on the other side of the river anyway, the three fishermen motored over and asked if we needed help. Well, no, not really. But since you insist, thank you, that would be very much appreciated. Could they tow us into the marina? Sure they would, and so, after using much power to pull first our anchor and then our boat out of the mud, they towed us the short distance into the marina.
So thank goodness for the Salty Bitch and her skipper, who seemed to really know how to handle her. One of his companions said it was the first time he had been on the Napa, the first time he had fished for sturgeon. Now he has another story to tell, as do I. And this is the end of it.
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dolfinbill
New member
Hey Jackie,
You're stories are so much fun to read. Even if I didn't know anything about sailing (which I've been accused of), I would still like reading your stuff.
DolfinBill
You're stories are so much fun to read. Even if I didn't know anything about sailing (which I've been accused of), I would still like reading your stuff.
DolfinBill
Intermission
Member
You can't make this stuff up.
Fer shur. Jackie's sailing stories are the only Real News I enjoy reading these days! What an adventure.
Curious why the names have been changed....is it to protect the innocent skippers who only bring a cup of fuel because "it's a sailboat"? I once helped tow a sailboat from way inside San Pablo Bay to Richmond after the last Vallejo 1-2 because he also only had a little bit of gas. This mindset seriously baffles me.
BobJ
Alerion 38 "Surprise!"
Since SF#1 is busy painting his boat, SF#2 will fill in for him and plead his defense.
SF#1 made the same trip last year with the same amount of fuel. But this year, an unexpected early haul-out deadline and no wind between Richmond and Vallejo meant motoring with pedal-to-the-metal. Once past Vallejo, the ebb in the river was strong and could not have been avoided given the day's schedule. Due to draft, it also could not be avoided by hugging the shoreline.
We did an admirable job of short-tacking the muddy shoreline, even as it got narrow towards our destination. A bit of local knowledge vs. relying solely on the chart and we would have been fine.
The fish tacos and craft beer at Downtown Joe's in Napa more than made up for the "lemon bread stops," and a good time was had by all. I'd make the same trip again with these two in a heartbeat. And yes, I'd bring an extra tank of fuel.
SF#1 made the same trip last year with the same amount of fuel. But this year, an unexpected early haul-out deadline and no wind between Richmond and Vallejo meant motoring with pedal-to-the-metal. Once past Vallejo, the ebb in the river was strong and could not have been avoided given the day's schedule. Due to draft, it also could not be avoided by hugging the shoreline.
We did an admirable job of short-tacking the muddy shoreline, even as it got narrow towards our destination. A bit of local knowledge vs. relying solely on the chart and we would have been fine.
The fish tacos and craft beer at Downtown Joe's in Napa more than made up for the "lemon bread stops," and a good time was had by all. I'd make the same trip again with these two in a heartbeat. And yes, I'd bring an extra tank of fuel.
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Intermission
Member
Weight nazis.
Right....?!? I guess it's the former motor boater in me.
Didn't mean to out you guys! It really did sound like a great day. The part that freaked me out in Jackie's telling was running out if fuel AFTER the bridge and drifting back. The bridge during the Sunday start of the Vallejo 1-2 races always seems closer than it is when the flood is building and the sails are flogging.
Once upon a time, before I had any gray hair, I was asked to deliver a boat from Berkeley marina to Alameda marina in early December. Made it out of Berkeley harbor ok and then was becalmed about a half mile West of the marina only to discover that the fuel for the outboard was apparently too old to be useful. While thinking about ways to use the hatch board to paddle back to Berzerkely for fresh gas the wind arrives and I assume my troubles are over. After a lovely sail around the pier and a romp into the estuary the fickle breeze decides to take the day off. Six hours later I finally managed to complete the last 4 miles and arrive at my destination. That was the last time I ventured out with any kind of schedule and any uncertainty about auxiliary power options. I did have a few moments of enjoyment watching the boat make about .2 knots through the water and one knot backwards over the bottom due to the ebb. The excruciating frustration of watching such hard earned progress disappear may well have been the start of my gray hair...
Philpott
Cal 2-27 Dura Mater
Good one, John! The thing about the Berkeley marina is that, if you run out of either wind or gas or diesel, a flood will always, eventually, wash you back in. Don't ask how I know this.
I have also been told that the Olympic Circle is the purview of the Berkeley harbor patrol, so if you have difficulty getting back in, they will come get you. What they will NOT do is tow you from your slip to the Berkeley Marine Center. Don't ask how I know this, either. Since Engine By Dave it hasn't been an issue.
The Alameda assessor's office has recently targeted Berkeley Marina tenants. Dura Mater's assessed value was increased 500%. When I appealed (and you can be sure I appealed in writing) her assessed value was reduced 5%. I have heard it said that beautiful, high maintenance partners are valued more according to the expense they incur. Dura Mater and I don't have that kind of relationship. I love her grubby self unconditionally.
The large dirt parking area east of Cal Sailing and Cal Adventures, where windsurfers parked and launched their boards, has been turned into a paved, managed parking lot, complete with curbs and entrance. Maybe a precursor to paid parking for the increased ferry service out of Berkeley. I suppose Dura Mater's property tax assessment will help pay for that.
I have also been told that the Olympic Circle is the purview of the Berkeley harbor patrol, so if you have difficulty getting back in, they will come get you. What they will NOT do is tow you from your slip to the Berkeley Marine Center. Don't ask how I know this, either. Since Engine By Dave it hasn't been an issue.
The Alameda assessor's office has recently targeted Berkeley Marina tenants. Dura Mater's assessed value was increased 500%. When I appealed (and you can be sure I appealed in writing) her assessed value was reduced 5%. I have heard it said that beautiful, high maintenance partners are valued more according to the expense they incur. Dura Mater and I don't have that kind of relationship. I love her grubby self unconditionally.
The large dirt parking area east of Cal Sailing and Cal Adventures, where windsurfers parked and launched their boards, has been turned into a paved, managed parking lot, complete with curbs and entrance. Maybe a precursor to paid parking for the increased ferry service out of Berkeley. I suppose Dura Mater's property tax assessment will help pay for that.
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Ha! That reminds me too of the time I was coming back into the Oakland Estuary with my racing bud, Beccie, in the dark, just coming up to the Port of Oakland, when we nearly ran over a runabout with a guy at the stern shining his cell phone at me and another guy paddling away. I did a u-ee, and after my heart stopped racing, asked if they needed some help. "Engine won't run and waiting for the ebb to turn," one says. You're moving 2 knots toward the Bay Bridge, I say, and it's another hour before you get some current relief (it was also almost 9:30 at night). They did accept a tow to the public boat ramp, waved goodbye when we got there, probably a little embarrassed to be saved by two girls in a big boat. Perhaps I should start a towing service?
BobJ
Alerion 38 "Surprise!"
We once grabbed a J/24 at the mouth of the Estuary and pulled him out of the way of a container ship. The boat was being delivered to StFYC for a one-design event and had no sails on deck, let alone ready to hoist - now that's a mindset that baffles ME. He was mid-channel when the shear pin sheared on the outboard. We had one shot to get him and then it was going to get ugly.
Another time I towed three soggy ladies on a J/World J/80 back up the Estuary after a SHTP "weigh-in" at RYC. It was in February, and it was cold and raining with no wind. I always wondered if they went on to take up sailing, and I also wondered why J/World insisted on no engines, even in the Winter.
Intermission, please lay off the "weight nazi" thing - it's a very poor choice of terms and that other thread was about optimizing for racing, not deliveries. I'm sure Chris feels bad enough about it.
.
Another time I towed three soggy ladies on a J/World J/80 back up the Estuary after a SHTP "weigh-in" at RYC. It was in February, and it was cold and raining with no wind. I always wondered if they went on to take up sailing, and I also wondered why J/World insisted on no engines, even in the Winter.
Intermission, please lay off the "weight nazi" thing - it's a very poor choice of terms and that other thread was about optimizing for racing, not deliveries. I'm sure Chris feels bad enough about it.
.
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The folks on that "almost a hood ornament for a container ship" J/24 clearly had not been using my outboard, Old Unfaithful. now I think I need to go spend a minute with a map to calculate which side is a shorter walk to the bar after having to dive off a boat before it gets run down in the estuary. Webster Street on the Alameda side must still have a bar or two, even though it is nothing like it was when the NAS was active but there must be something nearby in West Oakland...Research, research...
Preparing for the SHTP is all consuming, i have felt short of time for more than a year! Friday morning felt no different as the Napa Valley Marina folks reminded me they need the higher end of the tidal range to haul out, so my cut-off time was around 3:30 PM, it was 8 am. So we piled into my car and headed to RYC. Why Jackie and Bob asked to come on this delivery, I don't know, but I guess any time of the water is better than a day of work! My memory said the gas tank was fairly full, but in my haste I neglected to check. The results of that failure to give the can a shake have been documented above.
After the petrol ran out and the wind was moving us forward, but at pace not in keeping with modern schedules, we speculated on Alma and her sister-ships making their way up the same water, as hay fields still exist on the other side of the muddy banks we were looking at all day. They must have had more patience in those days, but they didn't have a June 23rd start to make, so they could afford the patience!!
No weight Nazi here, just a sailor in a rush. Besides, Fugu brought a french press to Drakes Bay a couple of years ago, that's luxury on a W30!!
After the petrol ran out and the wind was moving us forward, but at pace not in keeping with modern schedules, we speculated on Alma and her sister-ships making their way up the same water, as hay fields still exist on the other side of the muddy banks we were looking at all day. They must have had more patience in those days, but they didn't have a June 23rd start to make, so they could afford the patience!!
No weight Nazi here, just a sailor in a rush. Besides, Fugu brought a french press to Drakes Bay a couple of years ago, that's luxury on a W30!!