2 Days in the Bay

I don’t know how we could have packed more sightseeing fun into our 2 days in SF! We hadn’t made firm plans for our time there, in case we couldn’t make it in. But we found all sorts of fun. Wednesday morning, Bryan was up early, pestering the girls out of bed and we were off to shore by 9 or so—a record for this family of night owls!

We’d been traveling along California’s “Lost Coast” for several days, with no internet access or phone service and had missed the government shutdown countdown. But we’d heard we needed a permit to anchor in Aquatic Park, our intended destination, and when we called the anchorage on our way in, we got a wry recording, offering us the option to leave a message but implying that it might be a while before we heard back.

Aquatic Park is a unique anchorage, only open to sailboats, human-powered vessels, and swimmers. Yes, swimmers. We enjoyed chatting with the few brave souls splashing by our boat through the cold water each morning.
We spotted a uniformed Park Ranger on our way in and, wondering if the shutdown was over already, asked what we needed to do to be legal. He couldn’t officially say, as he wasn’t officially supposed to be working, but the anchorage was almost empty and no one was around to enforce whatever rules we might be breaking, so we decided it was probably OK to stay a few days. We spotted the ranger several more times that day, picking up garbage and making himself useful. All political opinions aside, we respected his generous and honorable actions.
We’d heard that we should lock up our dinghy in this public area, so the first stop was at a nearby chandlery for a length of stainless cable. They had just what we needed, let us all traipse back to the back to see the cool stuff, and even offered to crimp a couple of eyelets into the ends for us.
Next we were off to find bathrooms and a bakery. Many of the public bathrooms in the area were associated with a national park or monument and were closed due to the shutdown. Our whole time in SF, we stayed attentive for non-national-park, non-private bathrooms. They’re rarer than one might think!
Beth’s bakery radar led us to one bakery, but it was new and wouldn’t be open until Friday, and some helpful locals sent us to another, so full and loud we walked in and walked right back out again. The power of google won the day with directions to a tiny European bakery with delicious pastries and enormous sandwiches.

Properly fueled, we walked the 3+ miles up to the Golden Gate Bridge. We continued out on the bridge to the first arch (making the now-obligatory “I can see my house from here!” jokes along the way) and, after checking the bus schedules for the return trip, decided to walk the rest of the way across. It was strange to take in the bridge from this perspective and we spotted sailboats and a sea lion frolicking along where we’d sailed in the day before.

 We finally made it across to the Vista House on the north side of the bridge and then zoomed back to SF by bus. Now we’d crossed the bridge by boat, by foot, and by bus! The driver asked us—twice—if we knew where we were going (we must have looked really lost!) and we decided to make a quick detour the four blocks to see the curvy part of Lombard Street before heading back down to the wharf for dinner. We almost changed our minds when we saw how steep those 4 blocks were, but we persevered.

The fabulous fish and chips and the Ghirardelli Hot Fudge Sundaes made it all worth it.
After we got back to the boat, we measured our day’s walking route—9.5 miles!

We expected to wake up sore and moving slowly, but we still felt up to another adventure. We’d decided to splurge on a traditional cable-car ride and just as we joined the line, a passerby handed us 2 extra tickets they’d accidentally purchased.

We scored primo standing spots and rode up (and down and back up again) to the cable car museum. The museum itself was interesting enough, but soon we noticed that one of the cables was stopped. There must have been an emergency issue with the cable because a team of skilled cable-workers were working as fast as they could to splice a new cable (while a khakis-clad boss looked on intently). We have done some splicing on the boat and recognized the moves, but it was amazing to see it done on such a large scale. It takes a team several hours to finish the 90-foot splice, so we didn’t stay to see it completed.

Hannah was the first to spot the Love Bug in its natural habitat

We walked on up the street to Chinatown. Before we could see it, we could smell it—all the fabulous tea shops and eateries enticing us to come in. We found our way to a dim sum restaurant and sat out on their balcony taking in the novelty with all our senses.

After our late lunch/early dinner, I dragged the family up Nob Hill to Grace Cathedral. They were doing construction on the magnificent front steps, so we headed in a back door and found our way up a back staircase to the sanctuary.

As we started up the stairs, we heard voices singing. Initially, I thought they must be piping in recorded music, but as we came out into the nave, we realized we’d walked in on Evensong. We discovered later that, though the cathedral holds an evening prayer service every day, we’d happened along on the one day of the week they include their organ and the boys’ and mens’ choir. We quietly slipped past the labyrinth, under the soaring arches, into a pew and into the presence of the holy.

We didn’t take very many pictures in this sacred space, but please look here for some views of the cathedral with the art installation by artist-in-residence, Anne Patterson. It was just as stunningly breathtaking as it looks.
After the service was over, we walked down Nob Hill and up Telegraph Hill, past all sorts of interesting homes and unimaginable parking spaces, to Coit Tower (by this point, Hannah was calling it “Quit Tower.”)

 We got there just in time to enjoy the sunset view over the Bay Bridge and out past Golden Gate.

We searched all over for a bathroom and finally found an automated, self-cleaning restroom—like something right out of the future. It was cool and a little bit strange and collected quite a crowd of tourists all awkwardly waiting for a chance to use the toilet.

We walked back down Lombard Street toward the wharf, this time under a row of trees we’d seen the day before from the curvy hill.

Yesterday's view of Coit tower from Lombard Street

We’ve been experiencing so many views from multiple perspectives on this trip, it’s not hard to imagine the same perspective shift is happening in our minds as well. I’m curious to see how those changes will emerge.

Bryan went to San Francisco for business a few years back and he was pleased to be able to take us some of the places he’d been on his own. (He was even more pleased by the sparkling-clear weather, as opposed to the grim, foggy days he’d spent here.) So we summoned all our remaining energy and walked down to Pier 39, saw the lights, rode the carousel, drooled over the food shops, and walked back to the boat, quite satisfied with our 2 full days in San Francisco.

A day (and a half) in the life...

We left at sunrise (the most sailor-y time to leave) and headed out across the Humboldt Bay Bar. The swell had died down considerably from the few days before, but it was still rough going for the first couple of hours. If you were taking bets on who was going to lose her cookies first, I hope you were betting on me. Serves me right for not eating breakfast before we left. The silverware drawer must have felt similar; it took a dive and spilled all over the floor.
Before we even rounded notorious Cape Mendocino, the seas had moderated and we were enjoying another sunny day in the ocean.

We motored through high seas and low winds, but toward afternoon the wind started to pick up and we put up first the headsail and then our reefed main. We were hoping to make it to Bodega Bay for fuel, but it was just a little farther away than we could motor. So we wanted to sail as much as possible to avoid having to stop in Fort Bragg, with its tiny, shallow entrance. Not too long later, the wind increased and we took the headsail back down and sailed under just our double-reefed main. By evening, even the double-reefed main was overpowered, but the wind, for once, was headed directly where we wanted to go. So we took down the rest of our sail and ran under bare poles for several hours. I bundled up well against the wind chill and sat in the cockpit, steering by the feel of my hair on my cheek. As long as my flyaways were blowing forward into my face, I knew I was steering in the right direction.
We made the mistake of filling our fuel tanks in the dark and spilled a little in the cockpit. We carry fuel-absorbing rags for this purpose though and I’m pretty sure the smell of gasoline on my shoes was an improvement over their previous odors.
The wind died after midnight, so we motored the rest of the night and all the next day toward Bodega Bay. But the little sailing we’d gotten in had done the trick; we had more than enough fuel to make it in!

The changing of the watch...

We saw a breaching whale jump and crash back into the ocean, a first for this crew, and several times found ourselves surrounded by porpoises. They love to play in the wake the boat cuts through the water and we love to watch their joyful energy.

Finally (and momentarily) shorts weather!

We had hoped to make it into Bodega Bay before dark, but didn't get there until 9:00pm. The charts showed a well-marked and well-lit entrance, so we decided to head in anyway. The moon had not yet risen, but the night was clear and bright with stars and light pollution. Meira and I watched our progress on 2 different charts while Bryan picked out navigation markers from among the myriad lights on shore and we made it in just fine.
When we'd called ahead for a slip assignment, we hadn’t been able to reach anyone in the marina. So we eased our way into the inner harbor, tied up to the fuel dock, and walked over to the marina docks for clarity. It was only 10:30 or so, but the docks were quiet. We finally found a fisherman who encouraged us to pull into the slip next to him. It was obviously a private slip, with permanent fenders tied to the dock, but we figured it was unlikely anyone would kick us off in the next few hours, so we pulled in and went to bed.
In the morning, the fisherman left for the ocean. We planned to follow him soon, but before we could get over to the fuel dock, he was back. He got partway out and his engine broke down. A friend gave him a tow back, and Bryan offered him a spare part that might help. He and his friend, now stuck in port until they could make repairs, generously passed over sodas, apples, and buckets of ice they no longer needed. We said our thank-yous, filled our icebox, and headed over to the fuel dock. The attendant claimed to be a regular on “Real Housewives of Orange County” and if true, I can see why. He was quite a character!

The harbor entrance was much easier to run in the daylight, though the seals sunning themselves in just inches of water on the sandbar outside the channel made apparent how vital it had been to stay mid-channel!

A few hours later, we pulled into Drakes Bay (yes, named for Sir Francis Drake, who may have anchored there in 1579). We found a nice spot with shelter from the south winds, not too far from another sailboat, not too far from shore. When we woke up in the morning, we could see neither sailboat or shore. The fog was so thick, we didn’t risk a row in. We wouldn’t have been able to find our way up the trail if we had!
About noon, the fog lifted enough we could see the other sailor row in. He stopped by to say “Hi” and we invited him over for dinner. He brought good wine, wasabi peas, goldfish crackers, and local knowledge about navigating the area—winning over every member of our family in one short visit. We made plans to meet up again at his place in Half-Moon Bay.
Before he left, the wind picked up out of the north, so we both re-anchored a little bit north, in the lee of some cliffs. It was still a bouncy night and by mid-morning Tuesday, we had given up on going to shore and decided to take off for San Francisco Bay instead. There were small craft advisories for high seas and rough bar, but we figured we could always come back to Drakes Bay if needed. The wind and seas would be at our back and the bar conditions seemed manageable, so we headed on down. We ended up with a fabulous few hours of sailing, some of the best of the trip.

You can see the our reefed mainsail rolled around the boom

Peeking around the corner at the bridge

The visibility—always a concern heading into foggy San Francisco—was amazing, and we spotted the Golden Gate Bridge from miles away. We both agreed that if the fog rolled in or conditions weren’t right, we’d just skip the bay and find our way to the sights of San Francisco by bus. We didn’t have to sail under the bridge to have a great trip. But as we neared the historic landmark, such a big part of so many sea-farers’ journeys, we couldn’t help but get excited.

Before we turned into the Bay entrance, the girls came out into the cockpit. We wanted to experience this momentous event together.

The wind calmed down a bit so we shook out a reef in the main and then took our time, everyone taking a turn at the helm, sailing in under the beautiful bridge to a surprisingly quiet downtown anchorage, just at the base of Ghirardelli Square.

Meira captured this shot of one of the many kite-boarders

We have a long way to go yet, but there’s something about arriving in San Francisco that feels like a big accomplishment. A quick sunset row to shore, a wide-eyed walk through the bright city streets, a celebration pasta dinner—our rewards for the end of the first long leg of our journey.

No Pictures

There are no pictures of the rainy days. Wet doesn’t show up well on camera. There are also no pictures of the way tepid, filthy dishwater feels on my hands when there are only 6 dishes left and the water tanks are empty, and heating up more means walking to the outside spigot, lugging bottles of water back, and boiling it in my kettle. There are no pictures of the not-enough-room, one-at-a-time getting ready, the days we are all trying to go somewhere at once, but as soon as anyone gets ready, she sits down to wait and next thing we know, everyone is sitting down and no one goes anywhere. There are definitely no pictures of the way week-old, wet, dirty laundry smells in the sail bag at the head of my bed. There are no pictures of the constant shuffle of too many things, of not quite enough room for everything-in-its-place. No pictures of the digging, when what you want is always at the bottom, in the back, down at the foot of the bed, behind the settee cushions. There are no pictures of no room on the couch, no room on the counter, no room in the sink. No picture of “What if the Coast Guard closes the bar?” or “What if we run out of fuel?” or “What if the engine dies right here?”
But there are also no pictures of the laughter when one of the kids says something truly funny in the middle of a hard moment. No pictures of the way it tastes when we share our last bit of chocolate. No picture of the feeling of accomplishment from sailing into anchor without using the engine. We can never seem to capture the joy of family game night, all of us tucked in tight around the table. It’s always too wobbly to get a shot of our traditional “Popcorn in the Pacific.” I can’t post a picture of crawling into a warm, dry, still bed after a night at sea. Pictures of new friends don’t ever capture the joy of meeting them and the fast connections forged over common experiences or shared viewpoints. There is no way to photograph the girls’ growing confidence as they capably and (almost always) cheerfully take on the challenges of sailing, navigating, lugging groceries, or exploring new places. There are no pictures of a year of days with Bryan, no photos of the power of facing a challenge together and together, accomplishing what we could not do alone.
This blog is curated, of course. If not, the internet would collapse under the weight of the boredom. But if my blog posts seem to portray our life as ideal, a romantic fantasy, a relaxing vacation, please re-read the first paragraph. And if you start to wonder, as I sometimes do, why in the world we would subject ourselves to the discomfort and, yes, the danger, of our current lifestyle, please know there is no way to capture the whole difficult, frustrating, breathtaking, glorious, tedious, life-changing picture.

Waiting

We’ve been waiting for a good weather window in Eureka, CA almost a week now. So long, in fact, that last night, I dreamed the weather forecast had changed and now the good weather predicted for Friday and Saturday had changed to south winds (not a good thing when you’re headed south). Sure enough, when I woke up this morning, Saturday’s nice N winds had disappeared and the evil “S” had taken their place. Fortunately, though the sea has been inhospitable thanks to wave action from a North Pacific storm (Monday, a dockmate tried to leave and the bar was full of 16-foot breaking waves) Eureka has been more than welcoming. It’s hard to believe from inside protected (and mostly sunny) Humboldt Bay, that the ocean is all worked up about something. But our next hurdle is rounding Cape Mendocino, where any swell and winds are magnified around the point of land, so we’re filling the days with fun while we wait for a safe chance to head further south.

Meira's making stalls for her model horses so they'll be safe at sea

We spent our first day in Eureka holed up in our cozy boat while rain and wind outside made us very grateful to be tied up at a dock with power (power=heat!) and not fighting the deteriorating conditions at sea. By the next day, Saturday, it was clear we were going to be here a while. So we located the important sites (a public library and a pizza parlor) and walked around Eureka’s unique downtown strip.

Carson Mansion by day...

...and at night

We don’t expect to go to church every week on our trip, but we have been looking forward to experiencing worship with other communities along the way. I googled churches in the area and found an intriguing Sunday evening option in nearby Arcata. The bus got us there an hour and a half early, plenty of time to explore the North Country Fair, a delightful travel serendipity.

The church had a guest musician for the evening and we enjoyed hearing his words and music and then chatting afterwards as we waited for a ride. The buses had already stopped running by the time church was over, but the pastors offered to take us home…and then invited us for dinner Monday night.

We discovered many similarities in our life stories (and many favorite books on their shelves, always a good indication) and they generously invited us back on Tuesday to do our laundry.
We spent Tuesday morning scouting out the local farmer’s market for good deals and found some familiar foods (corn, green beans, and heirloom tomatoes, ohhh we miss our CSA!) as well as a new one—Armenian Cucumbers. We had to try it!
I’d read in a fellow cruiser’s blog that the Eureka weather station was very friendly and open to visitors, so Tuesday afternoon, we rowed over in our dinghy for a tour. It was fascinating to see the forecasts in the making, get our questions answered, and get the inside scoop on the forecast for later in the week. Unfortunately, they told us pretty much what we already knew—that the swells wouldn’t die down until Thursday night or Friday. Several people took time away from their work to talk with us and a new cruiser friend who came along. If you ever get the chance to visit, I highly recommend it!

By Tuesday night, back at our new friends’ house, we felt right at home, doing laundry and joining in on a typical family meal. We had been looking forward to meeting new people along the way, hoping some would feel up to inviting us into their regular lives for an evening or a day. I didn’t expect to have it happen already, but we’re so grateful it did.

Unexpected Tangent: Hannah had lost her retainer in Crescent City. Somewhere between getting a piece of gum and playing on the beach, it fell out of her pocket and, though we searched the beach and the boat, we all thought it was gone forever (with varying emotional responses). But when I opened the dryer at our friends’ house, there it was, sitting on top of the lint collector. It must have fallen out of her pocket into the laundry bag where it rode around for a week before making it through the entire laundry cycle safely. We had hoped it would show up, but I never expected it to show up that way!

Wednesday, we walked to Grocery Outlet (about a mile away) and loaded up everyone’s backpacks, our rolling grocery cart, and several bags with 30 lbs of ice and a lot of food. We’re hoping to be able to spend some time at anchor after our next travel days, so we wanted to have plenty to eat while we’re out there.

Photo fun in an alley along the way

Today, we’re fueling up and dealing with business of the bureaucratic and the cleanliness kind. Our plan is to leave around sunrise in the morning, along with a mass exodus of other impatient cruisers, and see how far we can make it before a new storm sends us steep seas again early next week. The farther south we are, the less the North Pacific storms will affect us, so we’re hoping to make it almost all the way to San Francisco in this jump. After we spend some time in that area, we should just have another 48 hours or so of travel time to get south of Point Conception.

Here’s Bryan after a bike ride to the nearby gas station