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days rowing two hours on, two hours off on a 29ft boat on the world’s greatest ocean. It’s almost impossible to
imagine being in such a restricted, dangerous and gruelling situation, but the
four middle-leg rowers of the Coxless Crew know every intimate detail of such a
journey. Since I wrote about their departure from San Francisco way back in the mists of time (April 21st), they have survived storms, doldrums, adverse currents, a curious shark named Fernando and numerous impromptu visits by flying fish and lost birds. The second leg, Hawaii to Samoa, took a staggering 36 days longer than hoped, reducing meals to the dreaded beef curry and testing the crew's determination to the utmost. But on Monday, November 2nd, they at last arrived safely in Samoa, to
be greeted by a traditional twin-hulled sailing canoe and their support team
leader, the famous Uncle Tone, and Sarah Moshman, video camera in hand, filming for Losing Sight of Shore. Having found
my desk swaying as I wrote emails after a mere day at sea, I cannot imagine how
difficult merely walking must be for Laura, Em, Lizanne and Natalie, and that’s
before you get to the aches and pains. They deserve every ounce of admiration,
not to mention financial support for their chosen charities, Breast Cancer Care and Walking with the Wounded. I urge you to visit their website and follow their blog to read
all about their journey aboard the sturdy, unflappable, flying-fish-loving, Oreo-pack-hiding
bright-pink Doris.
NB: for some reason, however many times I re-centre everything, my computer/Google keeps left-aligning random photographs. Absolutely maddening - I apologise for the erratic look of this post!
Loading up Doris in San Francisco nearly seven months ago
Am I mad, Emma wonders? Us lesser mortals might think so!
Back
in San Francisco, Mistress II, the
flagship of Jennifer Hinkel’s Resilience Racing team, has been swooping up and
down the Bay in fine style, and I finally joined her for a Sunday race from
Richmond Yacht Club. It was a perfect, sparkling October day, winds building to
a stiff breeze, and Mistress looked
beautiful, wooden hull polished until it gleamed and green sail cover setting
off the brown of the mast. She has come a long way since the launch of the
team, made up entirely of cancer survivors, back in April (read more in my
previous post). Below decks, the restoration is more functional than luxurious,
but there was plenty of room for trail mix and San Pellegrino sparkling water,
which was the main thing. Fearful of having too small a crew, Jennifer had sent
out a recruiting call, and we ended up with 11 people. Mistress is a decent 38ft length, but she was definitely crowded!
However, Ian Tucker, in charge of strategy, had tipped off his bike a few days
previously and so was stowed away safely nursing a leg brace on cushions behind the tiller in the
stern. As my sailing has been restricted to relaxed affairs where the careful
pouring of a glass of something is the most crucial element, and as this was my
first time aboard a Farallon Clipper, I opted to put my journalist hat on and
curl up beside Ian in the stern. Thus tucked out of the way, I wielded my camera and
cheered on the crew as they hauled lustily on sheets.
Are we sitting comfortably? Tactician Ian on his throne.
Not having a broken leg, I didn't get cushions, but it was surprisingly comfy
Ian and Captain Jennifer Hinkel before the off
Team instructions from Cap'n Jen
One
of the problems with being on a beautiful boat is that you can’t see it without
taking a cold swim or finding a helpful dinghy. Fortunately, on this occasion,
another Farallon Clipper was racing and obligingly started about the same time
as us (it was a timed race), so I could get some lovely
photographs. VIP has a white hull,
rather than wood, but you get the idea. There were only 19 made between 1940 and 1962 by the Stephen Brothers, and very few are still racing. Jennifer
owns another of the 19, Ouessant, currently
awaiting repair. VIP is number 7, Mistress II number 11 and Ouessant number 14. Hopefully, Ouessant will join the Resilience Racing
team in the next couple of years. What a sight that will be!
The beautifully restored and polished Mistress II
Photo courtesy of Jennifer Hinkel
Fellow Farallon Clipper VIP at the start
Mistress II
Photograph courtesy of Jennifer Hinkel
After
an excitingly windy start, the motley collection of boats, from nippy racing
dinghies to noble cruising yachts, settled down to eke out the light airs in
the doldrums behind Angel Island, spinnakers billowing. The course was a simple
one, a circle around Angel and Alcatraz islands clockwise or anticlockwise,
according to preference. We opted to pass Angel to the north, sailing
close-hauled south with the ebb tide, rounding Alcatraz to the south and
running before the wind up to the finish line by Richmond. It was a popular
choice and we had plenty of companions before we made the ruffled water of
Raccoon Straits (not named after the pesky critter that likes to hiss at me and
Gabby the dog from the porch roof, but after a British ship, HMS Raccoon, which was damaged off Oregon and repaired on nearby Ayala Cove in 1814)
and all took off as the strong winds from the Gate filled our sails.
All I ask is a tall ship and the sun to steer her by
At the start!
Fierce concentration all round
Photograph courtesy of Heidi Asztalos
We're moving!
And we're not...pootling past Angel Island
A splash of colour from assorted spinnakers
Wind!
Mistress II handles
beautifully, especially in the expert hands of Cap’n Jennifer, and we fairly
flew down the long stretch towards Alcatraz. To an inexperienced sailor, it
felt both as if we were heeling dramatically and that we were approaching jolly
close to the rocks off the islands, but with Jennifer on the tiller and Ian
watching the course, my nerves were completely unfounded. We did have a view of
what can happen to an unwary crew in the turbulent water off the south-west
corner of Alcatraz, where criss-crossing currents turned a nearby yacht 180ยบ in
seconds. But we stayed straight and true, turning north and setting the sails wing-on-wing,
one on each side, goosewing-style in British parlance. English terms are
generally rather more poetic: white caps on waves in America are white horses
at home, and we call a patch of dark water, signifying wind, a cat’s paw. (Admittedly,
the American pronunciation of buoy, boo-ee,
is slightly more sensible than our boy. When
asked how you define whether you're talking about a channel marker or a drowning lad, I had no
answer…)
A happy crew! No, that isn't a beer bottle you can see...er...
Thrashing past Tiburon
A noble sight: yachts that had taken the clockwise route
Thankfully, the bank of fog beyond the gate never reached us
A steady hand on the tiller. I didn't take many snaps
as we reached towards Alcatraz, as I was a little concerned
a) of dropping the camera and b) sliding on top of Ian
Passing Alcatraz Island. I've seen it from the water before,
but there's no comparison between a ferry and a Farallon Clipper
Is there a better backdrop to a sailing race?
Dangerous waters off Alcatraz
We caught up with VIP!
And I reckon Mistress II is even more beautiful...
Feline
puffs were few and far between as we drew past Angel and approached the finish
line. The wind died away completely and the few boats left rocked gently on a
limpid sea. The contrast with the finish of any other type of race, when sinews
are being strained and heads thrust forward, was thrown into sharp relief when
Jennifer cracked open a can of beer and reclined against the mast. It couldn't have been more peaceful. When we
realised our impressive speed of 1 knot was in fact in the wrong direction, the current trumping the wind, we
gave up and turned for home. Not the most auspicious end to my first ever
sailing race, but we were not alone in calling it a day and the patch crew of
Mistress II had acquitted themselves admirably. It was dark by the time we
edged into our berth in Sausalito, the lights of the town glittering and diners
at a waterside restaurant waving cheerfully from a balcony. A memorable day!
Whistling for a wind, and failing. But at least we weren't last!
The skipper at rest!
Inching forwards...or possibly backwards...
The finish was the line between those two boats, but we never got there
A somewhat less attractive vessel
Sunset over the Golden Gate Bridge
Full moon above Angel Island!
On the way home
Photograph courtesy of Heidi Asztalos
Photograph courtesy of Heidi Asztalos
Lest
you think I have done nothing but work (almost true) since I got back to San
Francisco, here’s the photographic proof that this glorious corner of California is always full of
distractions. This journal has been most neglected in recent weeks, but with adventures in eight
eastern states coming up, its time on the periphery is over…
With seemingly everyone else in the neighbourhood, we stood
at the top of Divisadero and Broadway to watch the Blood Moon.
The lunar goddess took an age to get above some uncharacteristic eastern clouds,
but it was worth the wait!
With my gorgeous friends, Vince and Francesca,
on their wedding day in the Fairmont. Congratulations!
The Bay was alive with the sound of jet engines for Fleet Week
The Blue Angels in action
The Red Arrows will always come first for me, especially
as there are 9 of them, not 6, but the Angels do get to fly over
the Golden Gate Bridge...
Big finish!
My favourite is always the tiny little red biplane
that skips about the sky and skims the waves
Fan vaulting in Cathedral Grove, Muir Woods
The glory of the redwoods
Elizabeth and me soaking up the sun on Stinson Beach
Ah, California in October
For some reason, all the gulls were sitting together in groups,
for all the world as if they were waiting at bus stops. Most odd
The Citywide NERT drill, my first as a fully trained member
of the Neighbourhood Emergency Response Team
Ready to help!
Demonstration from Pacific Gas & Electric (or PG&E)
A service to mark 26 years since the Loma Prieta earthquake of 1989
and 25 years since NERT was founded
After a long day at my desk, what better way to spend
the evening than aboard Ebenezer III?
Racing to reach the bridge before the light fails
Truly a Golden Gate
A symphony of diagonals
Farewell to the sun
