Author Archives: Melissa

Destination: China Cove, Angel Island

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While we are hunkered down in the Pittsburg Marina for a few days (70$ for 3 nights? Yes, please.) I’ve had some time to integrate all the experiences we’ve had since sailing under the Golden Gate Bridge. Words that come to mind in describing the SF Bay area? Intense. Fast. Bold. Dramatic. Stimulating. Mercurial. Bombarding. Beauty. Energy. Noise. Wind. And finally: Escape. It was the need to escape the constant action and wind of Sausalito’s anchorage that found us running for cover to Angel Island. The word ‘cover’ here is used loosely because really, there are no protected anchorages in the SF Bay area. But our standards were low. We wanted to get away from other boats, and we wanted a land mass between us and the westerlies that scream through the gate regularly. Just one night of peace. We’d put up with ferry wash to get that. You can’t have it all. 

We decided on China Cove on Angel Island, an anchorage that got us out of the worst of the wind and offered opportunities to learn to land our dinghy in surf and go to shore for a nice long walk in nature. By that time, I was seriously in need of nature time with no other people around. In fact, I think we both needed some time alone. We were feeling pretty raw, not so much from the passage but from the constant stimulation we had been exposed to since making landfall.  Cities are like that.

In spite of the rolly anchorage (again, our low standards) our anchor held fast and this was one of our better decisions during this time in San Fransisco. We landed on the beach at China Cove on a Tuesday, a day that the buildings are closed to the public. That meant there were no other people around and we could take our time exploring the area. Perfect!

Overlooking Galapagos from the dedication to the Chinese ancestors. Gifts to the ancestors have been placed at the foot of the monument.

China Cove is so named after the Chinese Immigrants who had to pass through here before being granted permission to land in America.   The Chinese were  ‘excluded’ from easy immigration due to the “Chinese Exclusion Act”. This tragic, infuriating time in our history is marked in the most poignant ways at China Cove. Would that everyone today could go to China Cove and see the displays, opening their hearts and minds to the plight of the immigrant and feel the parallels between that time and now. How little human beings have changed in that 100 years. How carefully we guard what we believe to be ours.

The Asian immigrants, especially the Chinese, were treated as ‘aliens’, a word which is still used to describe anyone who is ‘the other’, who may be different in appearance or culture, or who ‘doesn’t belong’ to the fleeting majority. When we consider other people as ‘alien’ to us, it makes it so much easier to mistreat them. It’s so much easier to just look the other way when we see people as less than human. It’s kind of like using the term ‘collateral damage’ to describe how innocent people are killed in war zones. It’s so much more palatable that way.

Asians were separated from Europeans and given less space to live. This is illustrated easily in the size of the outdoor recreation yard provided. The European yard is about twice the size of the Asian yard. Families were separated with the men having to live separately from wives and children. Many were in the encampment on Angel Island for many months, appealing their case time after time before finally ‘passing’ their interview. It must have been an angel of darkness this island was named after. They lived in barracks, beds stacked one on top of the other. Conditions were squalid. I feel ashamed for the people who were in power during that time, just as I feel ashamed of those in power now who use many of the same words and same psychological ploys to make the populace fearful of immigrants. Considering the fact that unless you are a Native American, you are an immigrant of one kind or another, maybe it’s ourselves we should be fearful of.

As we walked through the area, peeking into the buildings, reading the displays, feeling our way into the experiences of the place, a myriad of emotions swept through me in the quiet of the day. Without other people, without a ‘guide’ to tell me what to know, I am more open to these encounters with history. The resonances of the experiences of humanity that mark a place become more easily felt when the mind is open and quiet and the heart is willing. Despair. Grief. Longing. Fear.  Bitter disappointment. Incredulousness.  Of course. But also laughter and joy. Exultation.  Relief.  Love. Forgiveness. Understanding. We know intellectually that all of these forces of feeling existed for the residents, or I might say, inmates, of China Cove. But to allow the emotions to waft through the body, to acknowledge them and bless them, to ask, ‘Why am I experiencing this emotion on this particular spot?’; this is to experience a place on a different level.

Taking in the wall of dedications to the Chinese ancestors who came to this country against all odds, and successfully created a future for their families.

Timeless good advice!

If you are not in the San Fransisco area, follow the links in this post and read about this monument to a darker part of our American history. Look for the parallels to our current climate regarding immigration. Those parallels are not hard to find.  If you are in the San Fransisco Bay area, go to Angel Island. Go to China Cove and visit with the ghosts of the past that live there. You can take a ferry to the island. Allow this place to come to life for you. The buildings are open on Wednesdays. But any day is a good day for wandering through time with a quiet mind and an open heart. 

Fair Weather Sailors

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We’ve been spending this week anchored in San Fransisco’s Aquatic Cove Park. It’s front and center to all the tourist attractions in the area, has a killer night time view,  and I thought it would be a protected anchorage. Laugh. Out. Loud. There is no such thing as a ‘protected’ anchorage in this area, and that’s something we’ve had to become accustomed to. The wind is pretty much constant here, and even though there is a sea wall around this cove, at high tide the water comes over the wall and you still get the wallowing from all the ships passing through. Nevertheless, it’s a great place to jump off from to go see things like the beautiful Victorian houses in the Alamo Park area, the crooked Lombard Street, and yesterday, Chinatown.

We’ve been wondering when we’re going to be leaving the area for points south, a decision that is truly still up for grabs. Only a fortune teller would be able to see into the future far enough to predict that. So I was very relieved to find a Chinese fortune teller in the form of a mechanical Confucius on the street on the main Chinatown drag. For only one simple dollar, Confucius would tell my fortune. I could not resist. I placed the dollar in his machine and his orb began to glow, his mouth began to move. My fortune went something like this:

“When it is obvious that the goal cannot be reached, do not adjust the goal, adjust the action steps. If you wish more wisdom from Confucius kindly relieve yourself of more of your monetary burden.”

Well. Okay then. I was sorely tempted to put another dollar in his tiny machine slot (even though I don’t find the having of money to be distressingly burdensome), but Mike, always the grown up, stayed my hand. Also, he had the cash. But really, I got what I came to Chinatown to get: the answer to our ‘when do we leave’ conundrum. I’ve been kind of itching to get going because I want to be warm and out of the wind. I’ve assumed that meant we needed to get further south. However, we are not going to reach our goal of going further south anytime in the very near future. Clearly we must adjust our action steps.

So that leads me to one way we make our decisions about when and where to go. We have a subscription to Predict Wind and we use that on Mike’s Samsung Galaxy Tab A tablet. We’ve been mostly happy overall with Predict Wind’s performance, although it has not been 100% accurate. We have found ourselves in much more wind than predicted. During a particularly nasty night in Sausalito we were awakened in the wee morning hours by winds that were clearly over 30 knots with gusts even higher. As our anchorage neighbor informed us he had put out 300 feet of chain (in a water depth of about 12 feet), we spent the rest of the night with our engine running keeping Galapagos steered away from his boat. I prefer to forget that night. That little weather system was not registered on Predict Wind at all. But the following day, when the winds kicked up strongly again, we could see that action with the software. By that time we’d had enough of Sausalito and moved on. I was beginning to see a pattern there.

Red=Bad

Anyway, we can also use Predict Wind with one of the computers with Open CPN software, which gives us a better picture of where we are in relation to the weather patterns we are seeing on the screen. This software helped us avoid big winds during our passage, and helped us find enough wind to sail in as well.

Lately we haven’t been happy with what it’s showing us for our next passage. It’s predicting winds of 35 knots or better until at least next Thursday. Since it’s also showing us 14 foot swells, we’ve decided we’re not going to leave yet. We’ll have to ‘adjust our steps’.

Do you see all those white caps. Because…wind.

In search of warmer weather, less wind, and more settled water, we’ll adjust our steps by going inland a bit, toward the Sacramento River Delta. We need to do a repair on our headsail furler and also put up some lazy jacks for the mizzen sail. (Lazy Jacks are a system of lines that guide the sail and contain it when you lower the sail. They keep the sail from flopping around dangerously.) We also need to raise our mainsail and get those sail slugs back in the track like they should be. All these tasks are better done in less wind than we have here.

One more day in the windy anchorage next to the city. If you’re in San Fransisco, just skip the Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream down by the waterfront and go directly to Salt and Straw. It’s off the tourist path, even better, but the ice cream is AMAZING! Just go.

S/V Galapagos Out.

 

The Emotion of the Ocean

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I promised to write a post about the emotional side of this first passage and today, a few days later, I realize that an offshore passage on the northern Pacific is similar to childbirth. Yes, that’s right. You know that amnesia that sets in the minute that warm little body is placed in your arms? All the pain, all the work, all the laboring, all the names you called your husband during transition,  is quickly forgotten in the glow of wonder that is your new baby. At least that’s how it worked for me. And that’s how this experience is working, too. I’m starting to forget the emotional downsides of the passage and bask in the glow of being in a new place and having gotten here under our own volition. So I figured I better get to it before amnesia took over.

We enjoyed watching these Brown Pelicans dive for fish outside the Golden Gate.

The 6 days and 5 nights we spent at sea were filled with labor and focus that never ceased, even during sleeping times. There was always the movement of the boat, the droning of the engine when it was on, the sound of the waves rumbling under us; in short, it was an ‘active’ passage that took constant attention. There was really no downtime. Even when off watch, our bodies tensed to accept the crashing of the bow, or the feeling of dropping into space as we surfed down a wave front, or the heeling of the hull, or the corkscrewing as a wave took us just right. We timed our actions if we wanted to climb up the companionway ladder, or even cross the salon.  On one particular day I literally crawled across the floor to reach a cabinet under the settee as it was a safer way to travel than trying to stand up. Imagine, if you will, that your house is constantly moving this way and that; that there is never any stillness to be had. I think the lack of stillness, ever, was the hardest part for me.

It’s a lot of work for your body to accommodate this amount of motion and noise 24 hours a day for days on end. This constant stimulation can  and did cause irritability and a tendency to snap. If you are the kind of person who avoids crowds and other noisy things because energetically they are overwhelming, blue water sailing may, counter intuitively, not be for you without proper preparation.  Noise fatigue is a real thing. It causes overall tiredness and is implicated in poor decision making. If you are going offshore, you need to be aware of noise fatigue and how it’s going to impact you after several days. Get some really good earplugs like these. They are worth the money.

Pt. Bonita and our first glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge.

With the motion of travel in the constant background, there was also the continual focus on equipment and how it was doing. Part of this is probably because it was our first multi-day passage on board Galapagos, but part is just because you can’t get complacent about systems. Mike, in particular, was acutely attuned to every noise the boat made. Was the propeller making a different noise than usual? What’s that small ‘ping’ noise? Is everything OK? Better go down and check the engine one more time. Why did the bilge pump just come on? Where is the water coming from?  Are we getting exhaust water out the back like we should? Even in sleep, our bodies were tuned in to the noises of the boat, not unlike new parents who have one ear always listening to the gentle breathing of their child. This was worse for Mike than it was for me. He knows that if something goes amiss, he’s likely to be the one that will fix it.

Most sailors are familiar with all these activities and these feelings. In fact, for some of us the boat motion during a ripping good sail is part of the fun. I actually love the feeling of sailing down a wave. But the intensity of them, the unceasing movement, the knowledge that there will be days of this and no quiet anchorage to drop the hook at the end of the day; that’s much different on the open ocean than coastal cruising. It’s not the existence of these things that wears on the psyche. It’s their magnitude and their constant companionship. There is no ‘off’ button on the sea. Knowing this academically is much different than knowing it with your body.

We prepared for years to do this trip and once we were away from Neah Bay I breathed a sigh of relief. All of the goodbyes had been said. All the preparations that were going to be made had been made. Our boat was not perfect, but it was safe. Now we were just going to do it. I didn’t feel excitement, I just felt acceptance. “Here it is.”, I thought. “Now we do this thing. Whatever happens we’ll deal with it.”  I never had any fear about this passage. I never had any anxiety about it. And everyone knows I have anxiety so that’s weird. But I think I came to some kind of fatalistic view where I just let go of worry and stepped off the cliff. So fear was something I did not have.

Approaching the bridge in the usual fog.

What I did have was 35 years of marriage to a man I know well and who I trust with my life. Let me tell you this: if you don’t trust the person you are on your boat with, don’t leave the shore. The ocean is big, and it’s lonely out there. You have to know you can count on your partner to have your back, to understand how you act when you get tired or afraid, and to be able to communicate with you.  These things are as important as knowing how to sail the boat. Work these systems out before you leave the dock.

What I also had was a boat I trusted. This is key. There have been a number of times before we left that I’ve worried we bought the wrong boat. Galapagos is very big and heavy. I hate the way she handles in a close space with her full keel.  I still get anxiety about going into marinas, although that’s way better now than it was. But we trusted Ted Brewer to know what he was doing when he designed her. And let me tell you this: she is excellent in every way on the sea. We totally have the right boat. I never even one time had a fear that she couldn’t handle way more than we could. And when the sails were set and she was used as a sailing vessel, the ride was comfortable if not always smooth.  I shudder to think how this trip would have been had we kept our beloved Cal 34, Moonrise, and sailed her down to Mexico. If I had survived this trip in that boat, I would have kissed the ground in California and taken the first plane home. Feeling safe in your boat is number one. Feeling safe with your partner on board is number two.

So as we motored into foggy conditions, as usual, out of Neah Bay, I was accepting of whatever the trip was going to hold and confident we would make it to California. I had confidence in our boat and in my partner. Those things were key.

Approaching the Golden Gate Bridge, Mike and I both felt elated that we had accomplished this.

Then we began to sail. It was like all the greatest sails in all the sailing books you’ve read. The wind was 10-15 knots, the seas were gentle and an incredible shade of Prussian Blue. We saw humpback whales. We put out the headsail and the main and we flew along for miles and miles and miles just blissing out to finally being out on the sea, sailing this boat like she was meant to be sailed. We were having such a great time sailing that we completely paid no attention to how far offshore we were going. Turns out, we ended up 100 miles offshore before we decided we better tack back in. It was kind of a shame. We had such a good groove going. I think that was really the highlight of the trip, before the fatigue set in. After the second night watch, things began to be more difficult.

Note from my logbook:

“As the sun goes down I suddenly need a break from the cockpit. I am hand steering down waves trying to keep the boat from wallowing. We had taken the main down as we are traveling almost dead downwind to make any way south. The rolling is ridiculously tiring as the boat swings wildly from side to side. The vane can’t keep up with it and Mike is concerned about the autopilot. I suggested taking the main down (the wind was almost dead behind us and it was blanketing the jib) and it was quite a job, fraught with peril. I am glad for harnesses. Some slugs came out of the track, which didn’t surprise me at all and only made me irritated we didn’t prioritize a new track and get those slugs replaced. Now the main is out of commission until we have quiet water to get it sorted, not that quiet water is bloody likely out here. It’s not even stowed properly, just secured so it won’t blow around. Mike could barely hang on what with the waves and the rolling and I was trying to keep the jib flying and also help stow the aft part of the sail and reef lines. Ridiculous and dangerous and absolutely will not happen again. After hand steering and wallowing for 30 minutes and after that experience I needed a break. I had been in the cockpit for several hours. Below was a mess. I could barely walk from being flung around. Even in the midship cabin the motion was intense. Finally Mike turned the engine on and we began making way. (I slept.)

Now at 10:30 PM on watch and we are traveling 6.5-8 knots with the headsail and engine on a good track south and east. It’s a beautiful night with bright moon and waves just breaking at the top. Galapagos is racing the swells and they rumble under us with a great roar on occasion. I wish I could see them better but it’s magnificent.”

An emotional high point was when we were surrounded on all sides by hundreds of Pacific Whiteside Dolphins (we think?)  hunting together. It was fantastic!

What a difference sleep makes in attitude and in resilience!

And that leads me to this: the single most important thing that impacts the emotional state during a passage at sea is fatigue; both noise fatigue and sleep deprivation. Sleep deprivation leads to emotional fragility. Know this and be aware of your own emotional patterns. Had I not been overly tired, I would have handled the mainsail fiasco much better and not almost had a meltdown, leaving Mike to take over my watch. I would have been aggravated by the mainsail issue, and determined not to see us put in that position again, but I wouldn’t have felt close to breaking down. It was truly a low point for me and I had to speak sternly to myself to snap out of it.

During this passage we did three hour watches, but I believe next time we will try 4 hour watches at night. We chose 3 hours because on our other overnight trips that’s what worked for us. But the difference is that those were only over 1 night, not several. You need enough sleep to get REM sleep and deep sleep. With a 3 hour watch, you just can’t get enough of either. Having an extra crew member, if it’s the right person, would also be a great way to share the load. We continue to be on the fence about this one.

Sunshine and warm weather greeted us as we emerged from the foggy world on the other side of the bridge. How do they do that? It’s like magic.

When we finally arrived by Bonita Point and approached the Golden Gate Bridge, I was surprised at the emotion that swept through me. We had come from a world of fog and shades of white and grey. As we passed underneath the bridge, it was like opening a door into a technicolor world of magic, like the Kingdom of Oz appeared to Dorothy. Suddenly, there was blue sky and hundreds of sailboats and bright sun and sparkling water. Had we paid attention, we probably could have heard the Angels sing. We shared a long hug and a kiss, and some tears that we had made it, we had done this thing we set out to do. We felt elated. We had given birth to a dream, then a plan. We had put the plan into action and so far, it had worked out.  We knew if we had made that passage all in one stretch, we could do another. And another. The world was now open to us in ways it was not before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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