It is a marvelous afternoon and so we decide to take the MacGregor out for a spin. Maybe even finally make it out to the bay.
"But not if I have something to do with it." my sinister evil twin laughs quietly. For this day, my friend, I am working in slo-mo.
As most of you who know me will attest, I like to do things fast. Except fast is not something that seems to be working on this beautiful Sunday afternoon.
We're smoothly backing out of the dock and I begin to raise the mainsail. But I get it all tangled up. I untangle it. We're now in the center of the estuary. I raise it again. Tangled again. How the heck does this happen? Okay I take it down, bring it back up. Hey, am I doing this right? I have done this before ya know. I have, really. Although anyone watching me could not tell in the slightest.
And now how does this rope go? I mean line. Oh yeah. Now we're next to the Coast Guard boats. Thank goodness for that p.o.s. motor we have. It's thauka, thauka, thauka, thauka sound pounding away at the back of the boat. She's not pretty but she's reliable. Well not that either.....but she's ......well she's all we got... so there.
I raise the main sail (finally) and pull and pull and pull at the rope to bring it all the way to the top. Just won't budge. Oh.....the rope is kinked. Darn it. Back down the sail. Rewind the rope and untwist. Now we're at Jack London Square. Well maybe that p.o.s. is a good ole girl after all. Cuz the sail raiser ain't worth a .....
Okay, back up again. Okay I got it. Do I? How come the clew side of the main sail is loose? Oh...the main stay isn't attached. I attach the mainstay. Now we're passing the last restaurant. Kayakers are zooming past. Gliding effortlessly towards the windy waters of the big ole bay. Although today there's not much wind. Thauka, thauka, thauka, thauka.
Okay now time for the jib. We pass the first big cargo ship. Its big engines spewing diesel fumes, hoping no one will notice. I hurry to get the jib up so we can speedily get past the diesel, but the wind is not with us today. We inhale the fumes as if our lives depend on it.
I raise the sail only to find out that the rope is on the wrong side. Back down she goes. Okay back up. Last cargo ship (not spewing anything...at least that I can physically see). Then the bottom carabiner is missing. Where the heck is that? I go to the toolbox and find an old rusty one. Where the heck is that brand new one? Oh yeah, there it is....in the head, next to the toilet paper. Hmmm, that's weird. Thauka, thauka, thauka, thauka.
Rushing to the bow of the boat I "rush" to put on the carabiner and raise the jib. Finally the sweet feel of "success" only 4 gallons of gasoline later. Thauka, thauka, thauka, thauka.
We make it out to the bay.....yeah!!!! Hey where's the wind?
Remember to stay upright. :)
Monday, November 14, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Do not attempt to put this up your b#tt
I am beginning to think that all this sailing is continuous pain, suffering, and exhaustion. Even when not in a sailing class, the 25' MacGregor we have needs constant attention and definitely is not an automatic "transmission" (to use a car term). I am beginning to reconsider my new hobby of choice.Luckily, Carla (our new sailing buddy) invited me to sail with her and her husband on her sailing friend, Mark's, 32' Catalina on Saturday in Sausalito. At first I am quite tentative thinking, I'm not good enough and then I read his invite. His sales pitch was smooth because by the end of his email, I was in. Newbies welcomed! Newbie, that's me. And boy, am I glad I joined the gang.
As I weave my way through Sausalito, I am enamored with the area, the town and the view. Wow! If you have the chance to check the place out, make it a stop. At the Sausalita marina, the Captain, Mark, is getting his boat ready for us to come aboard. I pay $40 (obligatory, but not required) and he let's me help him sail. I'm okay with it because I figure it's for gas, wear and tear, and any pain in the ass stuff that he has to deal with when he takes on newbies like myself. I'm ready to work donning gloves, rain gear, and my own life jacket.
I'm here, ready to go through dozen of drills, up/down, man overboard, and finish with the hokee pokee while I turn myself around. Nothing could be further from the scene. Thank god. The inside of the boat is luxurious. Two bedroom, full size stove, good size galley (kitchen to you and me), and a shower in the head (bathroom). One person could quite comfortably live here full time. And the deck on the boat can sit 6 without a hitch. The jib sail is retractable, so one person can sail. And the motor is an easy push button away. With a gps and depthfinder, we're all set. Now for the kick ass stereo and the wine cooler. Yep electric wine cooler. Now this is sailing.He cranks up the motor and she purrs out of the marina and we're off to the bay. As we sail under the golden gate, the Blue Angels fly in formation over the golden gate. The weather is perfect and soon my long john silver look is replaced for, not the Carribean, but at least not for the great Artic. Ahh, not a man overboard drill or jibe exercise in sight. I'm kind of disappointed, in a "oh thank god" kinda way.
We sail back under the bridge, following the dolphin pair that is racing with 3 seals. Cool. We've tacked maybe four times and not a jibe. Captain Mark anchors us right in front of the marine reserve and we snack on yummy cheese and fresh, warm bread as the marine life meanders around the boat. Okay, I think I'll keep this hobby.
As we sail leeward of the wind around Alcatraz, I start to nod off in the warm sun. Suddenly, we come around the north side of the island and the gale wind takes the boat. Whoa! I am jolted awake and the Captain yells "Release the mainstay!" "Mainstay? What's a mainstay again? What's it do? How do you do that? Who's supposed to do that? Oh, sh*t, that's me." I jump to my feet and attempt to jerk the line to release it. Nothing. Jerk, jerk. Nothing. Uh oh, we're heeling over pretty good now. I climb up on top of the top deck and jerk the line with all my might. Released!! Yes! The main sail is free and our boat's mast is not going to kiss the bay. Yeah!
I am estactic for about a millisecond before slipping on the seawater on the deck, and gravity, ever present, comes into play, and my ass is racing straight for the jib winch with no signs of stopping. Yow!!! Oh that hurts! The only thing that saved me from the winch's unnatural injection is that the winch diameter is 4 inches, but it tried. Everybody laughs and asks if I'm okay, and what else can I say but "Sure." Meanwhile my sphincter muscle is spasming in a very unnatural way. I sit gingerly on the hard plastic deck bench and calmly clamp down on everything that needs to be clamped down at that moment. Whoo.....you ought see my pitutee now.....there are some way interesting colors and bruises in some way unheard of places. And all in all, still good fun....
Remember to keep it upright.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Thar she BLOWS
We plan our first day on the high winds and I'm tentative. I see those boats heel over on the bay, and think "Is that fun?" I guess I'm about to find out.
The boat is already rigged so prepping for sailing is minimal and I've got time. I've got time to look around and see all these fellow sailors donning winter-like gear. Waterproof pants, waterproof parka, winter hat, gloves, and boots. It's October. I'm wearing shorts. What am I missing here? The instructor, Jim, comes up and tells us to put on sailing gear. Well okay then.
I put on the bright yellow Long John Silver pants and something's just not working. What is this, gender specific? There's holes here and there that I have no idea what is suppose to poke out of them. I poke and prod and adjust straps and still nothing. Jim looks at me and chuckles. He politely lets me know that I have the pants on backwards and inside out. OOOoohhhh. Well that explains a lot. It all comes together now. Well that's a good start. Now for the wind.
Jim tells us the wind is perfect. It's blowing at 20 knots. Which to the rest of us non-knot folks is around 25 miles/hr. Hmmm. Really. Wow. The highest wind we've ever been in is around 10 knots. Well this should be interesting.
Kenny is at the helm, Carla is the crew and I'm the, the, the ornament. As apprehensive as I feel about the gales, I'm pretty happy to just be the little useless cutie with full winter gear in the cabin. Getting out of the slip is more than a little complicated with the wind attempting to take the boat at every turn. As we come out of the slip, the wind grabs us and turns us around in the opposite direction. So we have to turn the boat 180 degrees in the narrow straight and not hit anything. We are destined for the brink.
It's now time for our crew mate, Carla, to take the helm. She's a good sailor but still fights the sails in the wind and waves. Jim, noting my apprehension gives me a wink and says "This boat can't sink." I think "Right that Titanic fellow said that too." And right then as Carla is attempting to jibe, a bluster takes the sail and whips us around. I mean ALL the way around. But not before we are so far heeled over that the mast hits the water. Yes, the mast! The thingee that holds the sails vertical! I'm holding on for dear life while getting thrown about in the cabin like a ping pong ball. Water is pouring into the cabin and we're being spun 180.....again. Kenny's grabbing onto the lines so he doesn't slide off the deck. Holy sh*t!
The boat is already rigged so prepping for sailing is minimal and I've got time. I've got time to look around and see all these fellow sailors donning winter-like gear. Waterproof pants, waterproof parka, winter hat, gloves, and boots. It's October. I'm wearing shorts. What am I missing here? The instructor, Jim, comes up and tells us to put on sailing gear. Well okay then.
I put on the bright yellow Long John Silver pants and something's just not working. What is this, gender specific? There's holes here and there that I have no idea what is suppose to poke out of them. I poke and prod and adjust straps and still nothing. Jim looks at me and chuckles. He politely lets me know that I have the pants on backwards and inside out. OOOoohhhh. Well that explains a lot. It all comes together now. Well that's a good start. Now for the wind.
Jim tells us the wind is perfect. It's blowing at 20 knots. Which to the rest of us non-knot folks is around 25 miles/hr. Hmmm. Really. Wow. The highest wind we've ever been in is around 10 knots. Well this should be interesting.
Kenny is at the helm, Carla is the crew and I'm the, the, the ornament. As apprehensive as I feel about the gales, I'm pretty happy to just be the little useless cutie with full winter gear in the cabin. Getting out of the slip is more than a little complicated with the wind attempting to take the boat at every turn. As we come out of the slip, the wind grabs us and turns us around in the opposite direction. So we have to turn the boat 180 degrees in the narrow straight and not hit anything. We are destined for the brink.
It's now time for our crew mate, Carla, to take the helm. She's a good sailor but still fights the sails in the wind and waves. Jim, noting my apprehension gives me a wink and says "This boat can't sink." I think "Right that Titanic fellow said that too." And right then as Carla is attempting to jibe, a bluster takes the sail and whips us around. I mean ALL the way around. But not before we are so far heeled over that the mast hits the water. Yes, the mast! The thingee that holds the sails vertical! I'm holding on for dear life while getting thrown about in the cabin like a ping pong ball. Water is pouring into the cabin and we're being spun 180.....again. Kenny's grabbing onto the lines so he doesn't slide off the deck. Holy sh*t!
After getting off the floor, recovering my cap, and popping my head out of the cabin I think "Well shoot, Jim is right, this sucker won't sink." And in a very sick way, I have just gained an incredible amount of helms person sailing confidence. Kenny and I look at each other with the exact same thought "Jim was right."
When Jim asks if I'm ready to take the helm, I estatically respond "I'm ready!" If that didn't sink the boat, nothing will.
Keep 'er upright.
Monday, October 10, 2011
SARAH....You are not crewing on our boat
Today we are going to the sailing school. It's right by the Berkeley Marina and we'll sail right into the bay of San Francisco. We joined the sailing school so we could "get in the groove" with other like-minded sailors who want to sail, sail, sail.
We get there early on Saturday morning after a couple of hours of studying our sailing fundamentals book, practicing tying knots, eating a healthy breakfast, and prudently packing our clothes for any weather that may come along.
The head of the school re-introduces himself for the 5th time (we all look alike) and confidently states that "Sarah will be overseeing your rigging of the boat. She'll check your knots, make sure the lines are all set up right, and will make sure the motor is all set up to go." Kenny and I look at each other and feel assured that we made the right move in joining the OCSC.
Well, only 15 minutes left before the sailing instructor, Dave, shows up and no Sarah. Well, maybe she wants us to put everything together before she strolls on the scene to "school" us in the error of our ways. We guess and rig where all the lines go (because we've never sailed their boat before), start the motor, make sure the electrical is working, check out the sails, make sure the life jackets are in good shape, and yep, the gas tank is full. Where is Sarah, our sage?
Sarah, the "sage", trips up the dock to the boat with her know-it-all boyfriend, Corey. Corey's taken one more class than Sarah so he knows "everything". She's a petite young Asian woman that looks like she'd have a hard time pulling out a thread let alone pulling out a jib sheet. She comes to the boat already full of apologies. "I'm always late. Anybody bring sunscreen? Oh I totally forgot to eat this morning, I'm starving, I hope you brought snacks. I can never start the motor-thingy."
Meanwhile the boyfriend starts yelling out orders and stating the correct way to set all the rigging. But not a finger to be lifted by the golden boy. Sarah, goo goo eyed, gushes about what a great sailor he is. "I'll never be as good as him."
I think, "You know what sista? You are so right about that one."
Dave comes up with flip flops and island shorts. Ah a breath of fresh air. He's the instructor and looks totally unanal. Not.
As the three of us take turns being the helmsperson, crew and ornament, he shouts out curses about the lack of wind to us as if we can do something about it. I take the tiller first and to me, the "lack" of wind is just right. What lack of wind? Oh the lack of gale that will push over the boat if you're not carefully following a close-haul tack? See I did learn something!
Sarah is the ornament, I'm taking the boat out into the bay while Kenny is trimming the lines as we tack back and forth. Luckily for us the know-it-all stayed behind and Sarah was left to fend for herself. Dave yells for her to "take the helm". And I think "Oh shit, we are so not going to make it back. Where's my life jacket?" I don the moldy once-bright red vest gladly after Captain Sarah nearly rips off the boom when she accidentally jibes and whips us all the way around. (all it means is that we did an uncontrolled 180....in 300 feet of freezing water) Mary mother of god I swear under my breath. I can honestly say I don't think I ever used that curse sentence in my lifetime. Well there's always a first time. "Oops" she coyly states covering her mouth while she lets go of the tiller (steering wheel) to complete the look she's trying to achieve.
Well Dave doesn't look worried so I relax a little bit. He's kind of like the driving instructor when you're 16 years old. They've been to the brink of inexperienced driver death, and lived so whatever...."I think I'll get me another whiskey snort." At least that was how my driving instructor was. Sarah continues her captaining. She stares at a point on the horizon without regard for anything else.......like the wind. Which by now is blowing so at least Instructor Dave has quit bitchin' about that. We are heeled over bad and I'm cinching up my life jacket as much as possible. She doesn't seem to give a rat's ass about water splashing into the cabin. I start to check out "exactly" how far away we are from the shore, how I feel strength-wise, and if it's best to strip out of the parker before we sink when (thank god) the instructor grabs the tiller and yells out "Jesus Christ, what are you trying to do? Get us all killed?" She crouches down on the bench seat and looks like a puppy just scolded with a rolled up newspaper. He states in instructor voice..."You are not understanding how this boat works." I'm not quite sure what he expects her to absorb and move on from that, but I feel better.
I feel better knowing that someone sails a whole hell of a lot worse than me. I contemplate the "wisdom" of his words.
Carryon.
We get there early on Saturday morning after a couple of hours of studying our sailing fundamentals book, practicing tying knots, eating a healthy breakfast, and prudently packing our clothes for any weather that may come along.
The head of the school re-introduces himself for the 5th time (we all look alike) and confidently states that "Sarah will be overseeing your rigging of the boat. She'll check your knots, make sure the lines are all set up right, and will make sure the motor is all set up to go." Kenny and I look at each other and feel assured that we made the right move in joining the OCSC.
Well, only 15 minutes left before the sailing instructor, Dave, shows up and no Sarah. Well, maybe she wants us to put everything together before she strolls on the scene to "school" us in the error of our ways. We guess and rig where all the lines go (because we've never sailed their boat before), start the motor, make sure the electrical is working, check out the sails, make sure the life jackets are in good shape, and yep, the gas tank is full. Where is Sarah, our sage?
Sarah, the "sage", trips up the dock to the boat with her know-it-all boyfriend, Corey. Corey's taken one more class than Sarah so he knows "everything". She's a petite young Asian woman that looks like she'd have a hard time pulling out a thread let alone pulling out a jib sheet. She comes to the boat already full of apologies. "I'm always late. Anybody bring sunscreen? Oh I totally forgot to eat this morning, I'm starving, I hope you brought snacks. I can never start the motor-thingy."
Meanwhile the boyfriend starts yelling out orders and stating the correct way to set all the rigging. But not a finger to be lifted by the golden boy. Sarah, goo goo eyed, gushes about what a great sailor he is. "I'll never be as good as him."
I think, "You know what sista? You are so right about that one."
Dave comes up with flip flops and island shorts. Ah a breath of fresh air. He's the instructor and looks totally unanal. Not.
As the three of us take turns being the helmsperson, crew and ornament, he shouts out curses about the lack of wind to us as if we can do something about it. I take the tiller first and to me, the "lack" of wind is just right. What lack of wind? Oh the lack of gale that will push over the boat if you're not carefully following a close-haul tack? See I did learn something!
Sarah is the ornament, I'm taking the boat out into the bay while Kenny is trimming the lines as we tack back and forth. Luckily for us the know-it-all stayed behind and Sarah was left to fend for herself. Dave yells for her to "take the helm". And I think "Oh shit, we are so not going to make it back. Where's my life jacket?" I don the moldy once-bright red vest gladly after Captain Sarah nearly rips off the boom when she accidentally jibes and whips us all the way around. (all it means is that we did an uncontrolled 180....in 300 feet of freezing water) Mary mother of god I swear under my breath. I can honestly say I don't think I ever used that curse sentence in my lifetime. Well there's always a first time. "Oops" she coyly states covering her mouth while she lets go of the tiller (steering wheel) to complete the look she's trying to achieve.
Well Dave doesn't look worried so I relax a little bit. He's kind of like the driving instructor when you're 16 years old. They've been to the brink of inexperienced driver death, and lived so whatever...."I think I'll get me another whiskey snort." At least that was how my driving instructor was. Sarah continues her captaining. She stares at a point on the horizon without regard for anything else.......like the wind. Which by now is blowing so at least Instructor Dave has quit bitchin' about that. We are heeled over bad and I'm cinching up my life jacket as much as possible. She doesn't seem to give a rat's ass about water splashing into the cabin. I start to check out "exactly" how far away we are from the shore, how I feel strength-wise, and if it's best to strip out of the parker before we sink when (thank god) the instructor grabs the tiller and yells out "Jesus Christ, what are you trying to do? Get us all killed?" She crouches down on the bench seat and looks like a puppy just scolded with a rolled up newspaper. He states in instructor voice..."You are not understanding how this boat works." I'm not quite sure what he expects her to absorb and move on from that, but I feel better.
I feel better knowing that someone sails a whole hell of a lot worse than me. I contemplate the "wisdom" of his words.
Carryon.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Cargo Ship?!!! Where?!!! Where!!!! What!!!
After months of dealing with bureaucracy about where to place the boat, how to license the boat, what needs to be on the boat, and do the hokey pokey turn yourself around. Not quite sure that's what it's all about, but finally we're on the water.
Last weekend we were enjoying sailing "on the run" on a low, lazy pace in the estuary and all of a sudden, we notice the building is moving. Well not exactly a building, but a cargo ship 12 stories high that is the equivalent of a building. We're seeing it being slowly pulled out into the channel by one tug boat and pushed out our way on the other side.
We are puzzled. There is no way that sucker is going to be turned around in the canal. What are they doing? I have no clue what cargo ships do. I barely know what they do period. Move cargo. Is that right? Let alone what they do once they get to dock. So what is that huge thing doing?
So at a glacier, but steady pace, the monolith is moving. Moving it seems faster than us. It's getting closer, closer. Come on, come on, come on. Adjust those sails, change course to run faster. Not working....I can see the tug boat captain's face. I can smell the tug boat diesel. Sailboat to be crushed like a bug, start your engines. Hello....start the motor. Pump that gas, what the f*%k?! Turn over, god damn it. Come on, come on, come on.
The tug boat calls out to us over the loud speaker "GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Really!? No shit. Finally, the engine comes to life and we gun the motor. The tiny motor pushes us off to the side. Feet from the jetty and heading for the docks, we steer the rudder literally between a rock and a hard place.
And the cargo ship, building, makes a 180 degree turn with inches to spare. Do they do this all the time? Funny part we never even thought to turn on the radio and see if they're tuned in. Then it's funny that the tugboat guy thinks we know what to do and where to go. What? Like we do this all the time? Whaaaat?
Last weekend we were enjoying sailing "on the run" on a low, lazy pace in the estuary and all of a sudden, we notice the building is moving. Well not exactly a building, but a cargo ship 12 stories high that is the equivalent of a building. We're seeing it being slowly pulled out into the channel by one tug boat and pushed out our way on the other side.
We are puzzled. There is no way that sucker is going to be turned around in the canal. What are they doing? I have no clue what cargo ships do. I barely know what they do period. Move cargo. Is that right? Let alone what they do once they get to dock. So what is that huge thing doing?
So at a glacier, but steady pace, the monolith is moving. Moving it seems faster than us. It's getting closer, closer. Come on, come on, come on. Adjust those sails, change course to run faster. Not working....I can see the tug boat captain's face. I can smell the tug boat diesel. Sailboat to be crushed like a bug, start your engines. Hello....start the motor. Pump that gas, what the f*%k?! Turn over, god damn it. Come on, come on, come on.
The tug boat calls out to us over the loud speaker "GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Really!? No shit. Finally, the engine comes to life and we gun the motor. The tiny motor pushes us off to the side. Feet from the jetty and heading for the docks, we steer the rudder literally between a rock and a hard place.
And the cargo ship, building, makes a 180 degree turn with inches to spare. Do they do this all the time? Funny part we never even thought to turn on the radio and see if they're tuned in. Then it's funny that the tugboat guy thinks we know what to do and where to go. What? Like we do this all the time? Whaaaat?
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