Round trip sail: Pillar Point to Santa Cruz
Aug. 31, 2013 to Sept. 2, 2013
I had a great sail Saturday down to Santa Cruz with a return to Pillar Point on Monday. You can see the track here: http://aprs.fi/#!mt=hybrid&z=9&ts=13...all=a%2FN8QH-8.
I could see the entire disk of the Milky Way stretching from horizon to horizon, and those little creatures that light up like lightning bugs in the boat's wake. It was warm, sublime, and worth a lifetime of effort to get there.
On the way down on Saturday, I just happened to be paralleling the Windjammer race. Some of those (much bigger) boats got into trouble in the Pigeon Point Washing Machine - mixed swell, high winds. One boat lost a bunch of gear overboard including a sail. I had no problems at all - just a nice downwind run with no need to touch the tiller. My rudder could have fallen off, and my Ariel's keel and the wind would have delivered her up at my waypoint in Monterey Bay.
My technique for crossing Pigeon Point when it's ruff is:
1) Don't behave like a racer (behave like a seaman instead) and go the extra distance to give the Point a wide berth to avoid the venturi effect around the bend.
2) Go at night so you can't see the swells ;-)
Still, I had 20 knot winds way out off the coast, and I happily made 4 knots dead down wind under bare poles with a following sea, while I kicked back listening to music and counting the planets in the sky. Majestic!
On the trip back, it was flat as a mill pond with just little capillary waves and enough wind to make 4 knots on a close reach with the wind 35 degrees off the port bow. The sails balanced so well that again there was no need to touch the tiller after tacking to Ano Nuevo, and my Ariel headed straight for home on her own like a horse back to the barn.
Fantastic! I can't express how much I love the handling and stability of my Ariel at sea.
Observations: Sail from Half Moon Bay > Santa Cruz > Monterey > Half Moon Bay
Oct. 14, 2013 to Oct. 19, 2013
Since certain radical elements of our federal government decided to deprive me of "the dignity of employment" by sending me out on furlough I decided that: "when the going gets tough, the tough go sailing."
My AIS track can be seen here: http://aprs.fi/#!mt=hybrid&z=9&ts=13...=i%2F367431840. Click on any of the red dots to see time (UTC), heading, and speed.
I was eager to test my twin jib configuration on my first leg along the southbound trip to Santa Cruz. I had some trepidation setting the pole for the first time on the starboard jib clew. It was nearly sunset (as shown in the photo below) and I'm always a little anxious moving about in swells on the foredeck under way, even with a tether. Better to get it done while the daylight lasts, I thought. It set easily, and I was able to set the port side jib sheet through the block at the end of the boom while following the old rule: "one hand for the ship - one for yourself."
Though I didn't have as much wind as I expected while rounding Pigeon Point, 12 knots was enough to achieve a reading of 5.8 knots speed-over-ground on the GPS. Turning the bend into the Santa Cruz bay, the wind died off, as expected, and I returned to the foredeck to release the pole using my miner's light on my helmet. I dropped both jibs and motored the last few miles in clam wind, a sky full of stars, nearly a full moon, and light following-swells that looked like undulating velvet. There were some small creatures - I don't know what they're called - that lit up in my wake like fireflies. I sailed southeast through the Santa Cruz bay until near the harbor entrance, and then made a dog leg to the northeast to enter the harbor. I have bright LED bowlights clamped to the bow pulpit rail that I appreciated for passing through the channel into the harbor. The entrance can be confusing to a newcomer at night, and hearing crashing surf nearby got my attention up. Five seagulls practiced what we pilots call "minimum controllable airspeed" flight directly in front of my bowlights, and they continually glanced back at me seeming to say: "can't you go any faster?" At first, I couldn't tell what they were doing, until one of them dove in the water right off my port bow. They were using my lights to spot fish. I tied up near the fuel dock, and before going to sleep I had to take a little time to get used to my boat rocking and tugging at its dock lines. Although the water was perfectly calm in the harbor, sea lions were diving all around my boat catching fish, stirring up the water.
My sail from Santa Cruz to Monterey was as perfect as a sail could be - a beam reach on one tack the whole way and a constant heading of 152 degrees magnetic from the Santa Cruz fuel dock to the Monterey harbor entrance. I dodged a few enormous whales, thinking that it would be bad to bump one and make it mad. They were a lot bigger than my boat. This was my first time into Monterey Harbor, and I doubt I'd want to navigate the narrow entrance in any kind of swell.
I got the call that the crazies had relented and the government was open again. My plan to sail directly back to Half Moon Bay was too ambitious. By the time I reached the bend northward near Santa Cruz in the afternoon, the wind had kicked up 8 foot swells at 3 seconds. There's a saying about airmen that: "there are old pilots and there are bold pilots - but there are no old bold pilots." The same applies to seamen, I think. I love being seated as close to the sea as I am in my Ariel - with so little freeboard. But that connection to the elements leaves one with no delusions about the fury that can be just a few feet away. I think it's safer that way - higher up in another boat, I might not be so aware of the forces ready to unleash something unexpected. I remember arriving once at the dock exhausted from sailing in the remnants of a winter storm, and while tying up, a skipper from a much bigger boat nearby asked me how it was "out there." I could only say: "Small boat. Big ocean." He said something sage in reply: "They're all small boats." Being so close to the ocean as I was, feeling the spray of the following swells crashing against the stern, it's hard to ignore that I'm in a small boat - regardless of its size. Someone once told me I was crazy to venture out on the ocean "in such a small boat." I told them the Titanic was a much bigger boat - but still too small for imprudent seamanship.
I left Santa Cruz the following morning at a more cautious hour: 4 AM. The fog was so thick that I made the departure "on instruments." It's good to have a chartplotter. Following the 100 foot depth contour, I watched the fog lighten at sunrise with no view of the shore 3 miles to starboard. I sailed around the bend to Aņo Nuevo, and motored directly upwind from there: 20 miles traversed upwind - 2 gallons of gas consumed. A commercial fishing boat skipper hailed me on the radio - seeing my boat and track on AIS - asking for a report on weather and seastate. He was 20 miles astern, had tried the trip the day before from Santa Cruz, and had turned back about the same time I had. He said he could see my 8 meter sailing vessel (AIS reports the vessel size) tacking in the fog and was encouraged about continuing northward. I reported he had light wind and seas ahead.
Here are my observations:
- The Ariel does hull speed downwind with twin jibs hanked on the forestay with 12 knots of wind.
- A 6 HP engine is sufficient for 4 knots dead upwind in moderate seas and a 10 knot headwind.
- When your autopilot fails (that's the third Raymarine AP to die on me) and you're motoring upwind, you can use the mainsail sheeted in tight for steerage, and the traveler gives you +/- 20 degrees adjustment range either side of dead upwind. I didn't touch the tiller for 6 hours. The rudder could have fallen off and I wouldn't have noticed.
- Sailing in 30 knot winds and 8 foot windwaves is unpleasant. I scrubbed my direct Monterey-to-Half Moon Bay return and ducked back into Santa Cruz.
- Sailing from Santa Cruz to Half Moon Bay - around Pigeon Point - is best achieved by leaving Santa Cruz at 3 or 4 AM.
Just cruisin and letting "George" steer
Title of video (with 'the-world-is-my-oyster' lens!:D)
Let George Do It
"In 1946 the show began following George Valentine, a man out of service who had an idea
for a business,
Let George Do It
Personal Notice: Danger's my stock in trade.
If the job's too tough for you to handle.
You've got a job for me. George Valentine"
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Think it serendipitous this turns up. The Great Detectives of Old time Radio.
There are 186 episodes archived. This live actor radio show was never REbroardcast on the
powerful L.A. AM station I listened to in the '60s, I would have known!...try:
https://archive.org/details/OTRR_Let..._Do_It_Singles
