The Shellback

My first race on John T, yippee! OK, so our NY’s day outing really isn’t a stiff competition, but the day was a pleasant surprise. It was sunny (unlike the past two weeks), and there was wind, you just had to look for it. We were pretty much the last marconi to the starting line. Sails up, engine shut off, and away we went. But very soon I was doing circles between a barge and Alcatraz trying to find enough wind to get past both of them. One of my crew piped up, "no harm in turning your engine on and giving up," or something like that, but I wasn’t going to throw up my hands that quickly. Eventually we got on our way, and unlike some others, we found a great long tack close behind Angel Island while off to our right most of the fleet was standing still. How could this be, wind in the shadows of Angel Island? Well, it was one of those fluky days when old man weather decided to blow from the southeast. We gained quite a bit of what we thought was lost for good. My cheerful crew, Blakemore, Shubin & Diamond, enjoyed making my boat work a little harder than usual. Closer to the Richmond channel our competition to the last mark turned out to be Barbara, Spirit and Quetzal. Spirit snuck in from the right in front of us first, Barbara came past from behind. But Quetzal unfortunately lost a jib at the last moment and fell off. As far as I know, only one boat resorted to turning on its engine after 15:00, which is quite a change from the last couple of years. Some mischievous sea sprite slithered into the Richmond YC while we were all quaffing a few and stole the list of attendees & results, but collective memories observed the following (not necessarily in the right order):

There were probably a couple more boats (please excuse the sprite), and there were quite a few more people than that filling the club, one of the best attended NY’s that I can remember. DeeDee Lozier coordinated the event for us with Richmond Yacht Club, and some how they managed to clean up in advance for us after their big NY’s party the night before. Goofy and tacky awards were presented to all who participated. Even one for a newbee, Ian who has bought Sundowner. Patty presented him with a handy-dandy mustache mug (don’t ask) to make him feel welcome. And to top it off, a clear night to motor home...

It was Tuesday June 6th, 2000. At 1:30 p.m. our double-ended ketch Farida slipped the lines rafting her to the stout ketch Walrus and departed Sausalito headed outbound for ports North. Aboard were myself, my wife Sue, and longtime friends and sailing companions Tom Bamberger, and Mike Jeffries. Walrus is Mike Jeffries boat (which he sailed to and from New Zealand a few years ago.) We had rafted there to make last minute preparations and pick up Mike. In about 2 hours Farida had motor-sailed out the Golden Gate and past the northernmost of the Bonita Channel Markers "R2"… she was finally headed North in a moderate choppy sea and 15-20 knot breeze…all aboard were excited at the unknown adventures awaiting us. It was the beginning of the realization of a very early dream-trip shared when Sue and I first met and sailed together (what seems now like only a short time ago). We were sailing in the wakes of many previous Master Mariner boats now located in the Pacific Northwest. Barry Herman's Danzante, Bill Harpster's Joshua, and the relocation of the wonderful schooner Wanderbird just to name a few. Tacking unto starboard we continued steadily onward past Duxbury Reef buoy then to Drakes Bay, our destination for the night. It wasn't much progress for the first day, but it would get us all on our sea legs before we really needed them. The anchor was set just about where Farida had been last October for the Master Mariners/WoodenBoat Oyster Feed. It had been a fine afternoon we had averaged 6.4 knots over the bottom and the weather forecast sounded much the same for tomorrow . . .at least that was what we all thought.

Wednesday morning, after a leisurely breakfast of hash and eggs, and a few repairs to the salmon landing net, we had the anchor on deck and were under sail in a light breeze. As the wind died our speed dropped to about 2-3 knots, Mike J. asked if we would mind if he did a little trolling…out went the gear, and quicker than anyone was ready for, Mike had hooked onto a good sized fish. It was a very crafty King Salmon that he fought for damn near an hour before we were able to net it. Our fish scale only went to 15 pounds so we tried to weigh the pieces as Mike did the filleting and parting-out. It all added up to nearly 30 pounds of fish. In with the fishing gear, that's all we needed for awhile! Our ice chest was overflowing. We had our very own "Moby Dick" we had fought and won…or had we? Sue outdid herself the next several days coming up with different ways to cook salmon. Sweet and sour salmon was the crew's favorite.

As the day progressed the weather slowly deteriorated. It first become foggy about four in the afternoon followed by light rain and somewhat improved visibility. About 2 in the morning the breeze started to build and the seas with it. We were losing speed; being knocked back to 1 or 2 knots on a regular basis by the larger of the waves, and by daybreak things only got worse. Around 10:00 on Thursday morning we were 50 miles offshore and nearly even with Point Arena. All hands elected to head for Bodega Bay for refuge and to wait for better conditions. The general consensus was that things were going to get a lot worse before they got better. We swung her around and took off like a freight train. The winds built to about 30 knots with 12-foot average seas. Farida behaved like a real lady (we knew she would) and we fetched the Bodega entrance buoy at 6:30 p.m. that day. By seven-thirty we were safely tied up at Spud Point Marina, inside Bodega Bay. If you haven't been there in a while it has been developed into a fine deep-water harbor. A place well situated for a short cruise from the City. Blowdega blew and blew for 6 days with small-craft warnings alternating with gales offshore. One of the fishermen off a trawler told us "even the tough guys came back in, so don't feel bad." Tom B. had to return to work so we said good-bye. Tom watched from Bodega Head as Farida again headed to sea on the 14th at 6:00 p.m., this time we would miss Tom considerably, having fewer crew to share the watches. Sue and I and Farida were now entering virgin waters for us, although Mike J. had made the trip to Cape Flattery before on Wanderbird . We had picked a good time to leave as this night brought nothing more than a threat of bad weather, and on Wednesday the 14th we were approaching Noyo Harbor. Sue's birthday was on the 16th so we headed in for a proper celebration. We enjoyed the amenities offered by Noyo, great restaurants, good berth, and nice folks at the Marina. We didn't know it but the boatyard there has turned out several nice wooden-boats, one of which, a Malabar Schooner is currently tied to its dock. If you're up that way check it out, the workmanship looks excellent from what we could see. Other boats built in Noyo are still berthed there, both fishboats and yachts. We inflated the dinghy and motored up the Noyo River as far as we dared. It's like a scene from "Apocalypse Now"…the rotting bones of old wooden fishing vessels lining the shore. The graveyard of the fish fleet!

With the birthday celebration over, we headed back to sea on Saturday the 17th. We turned North and rounded Cape Mendocino at midnight. By 7:30 in the morning we were at the red and white Humbolt Bay Entrance Buoy and by 9:30 we were tied up inside at the Woodley Island Marina (Eureka CA). This leg went smoothly with little wind but lumpy seas left over from the offshore gales. The Humbolt bar was comfortable at high slack water in the early morning. A picture of the breaking bar is in the in the harbormaster's office and is worth looking at if you go to Eureka. So is the Fishermen's Memorial Statue, which is very impressive. Every year local fishermen lose their lives sailing from this place. The number lost up to the date of our visit was 2 although their names hadn't yet been engraved under last year's total (the year wasn't over with yet). Guess what? We had picked the perfect window of opportunity to get to Eureka. . . Now the gales were back!

Eureka was a wonderful place to be trapped in. The "Old Town " section is interesting and is very much like Sacramento's. Tom Bamberger had arranged a personal tour of the Carson Mansion, now an exclusive private club, and that was fascinating. Ariane Paul's friend Troy Nicolini ("Sabrina") met us at the boat. Troy works at the NOAA Weather Headquarters, which was about 100 yards from our berth. We set our barometer to theirs while we were there. Troy would come by from time to time with the latest weather update. This was far better than listening to that mechanical voice of NOAA who they refer to as "Perfect Paul". (Any connection Ariane?). While we were there we purchased 3 sacks of oysters from the wholesaler and enjoyed an oyster bar-be-que, YUM. Troy and his wife joined us with some salmon steaks and we all filled up. We also met many other interesting people. Two of which were the "Swedish Around-the-World Team". These guys had made it this far in a 20-foot outboard-powered motorboat from Sweden. They had already crossed the North Atlantic and transited the Panama Canal, talk about tough with a capital T. . .. they were headed for the Aleutian Islands to cross the Pacific. All this made our little trip seem like a cakewalk. Also while we were there the tug tied next to us brought in a 60 foot Hatteras which had its pilothouse windows broken out by a freak sea just North of Trinidad. (Near Eureka) The name of the vessel was the "Kemo Sabe" we wonder if Tonto was aboard. All the crew were airlifted to the hospital for treatment of their injuries, mostly major lacerations.

It was over a week before the weather was favorable to continue. Tuesday June 27th at 6 a.m. we ventured forth in the fog and managed to stay in the channel for a safe bar crossing. We were headed North again and making good progress, although heavy fog persisted until mid-afternoon. So far the trip had gone smoothly, no injuries, no gear failure, the Detroit Diesel rumbling along without a hitch…soon all this was going to change. Let me tell you what can happen when all your hose clamps aren't regularly checked by the M.I.C. (moron -in-charge), that's me.

I was below, Mike J. at the helm, Sue on deck, the sun was shining, the water was calm and we were really making tracks over the bottom. Life was beautiful…then it happened. "Did you hear the engine miss? " Mike J. yelled to me down below. "It seems to be smoking a little", he added. I took a look. Horror of horrors! The short 2-inch rubber coupling hose had slid back from the heat-exchanger inlet housing and was pumping 60 gallons a minute into the blower air intake. Emergency stop! A check of the dipstick revealed what we all feared. There was mucho saltwater in the crankcase. All this happened quicker that it took to read this sentence.

A quick check of our position put us about halfway to Crescent City from Eureka. Not very far, about 25 miles. Time to set full working sail and try to arrange for a tow. (The first time we have ever tried to use our unlimited Boat U.S. towing insurance.) We called them on the cell phone and explained the situation. After much conversing it was agreed that we should contact any Licensed Captain of any boat we could find to tow us in. Sounds easy right? I should mention that everyone we talked to was helpful and courteous…and it all worked out in the end, but not the way we had anticipated. We called the Harbormaster at Crescent City who informed us there was no commercial towing vessels in their harbor; also, no fishing boat would venture forth to tow except in case of immediate peril. So before we knew what to do next Crescent City Coast Guard was on the cell phone, I guess we were transferred directly. We explained that we were in no peril and would continue on under sail. They requested that we contact them when we were closer for an update…we reluctantly agreed and continued on, and on, and on. You see we had purposely planned this part of the trip for calm weather, and it sure was. We started sailing at 2:40 p.m. and arrived at the Crescent City whistle buoy at 9:00 the next morning. 18 hours to make under 25 miles. It was still calm and also extremely foggy. We circled in the vicinity of the buoy waiting for the fog to lift. Our large-scale chart of the harbor showed we could sail in and anchor all right but none of us had been there before and we thought it prudent to wait for better visibility. Well, that normally would have been correct, but today was almost the last day of the area's crab season. All the crabbers were out gathering up all their pots. After several scary encounters with the local crab fleet (in zero visibility) we swallowed our pride and made the call to the Coast Guard. They were very efficient and expertly towed us to a berth at the Crescent City Harbor. After the obligatory usual inspection, they left us to ponder our problems and fend for ourselves. "Hummph", said Mike J., "Hummph" said Mike P. '"Ditto" said Sue. It was at this junction in the road that Mike J. reached into his ditty bag and presented us with a very nice wooden plaque which he had brought along and secreted away for just such a occasion, it said, "Cruising is taking your boat somewhere else to work on it", he then stated "well, I guess it's about time for me to return to work in Sausalito".

After a strategy session, it was decided that our priorities were showers, food, and rest (in that order), then come up with a plan in the morning. The plan developed was to try to restart the engine after changing the oil. Ha. . .the engine would turn over but not start. That wasn't too bad though as at least it splashed the new oil around and wasn't locked up tight. On to Plan B…. remove the blower, pickle it in diesel oil and everyone go home to attend my son Mark's wedding in a few days. Mike J. took the "Dog" and Sue and I rented a car a few days later.

Here is where we leave you patient reader, with Farida in Crescent City. The engine is dead (apparently terminal). And we all return by land the 400 or so miles back to our homes. Sue and I had just enough time to prepare for son Mark's wedding. Bye for now, Capt. Mike has to adjust his cummerbund.

Coming soon in Episode 2: How the engine was fixed and how Farida fared on the second leg of her (hopefully interesting) adventure, "Farida to Cape Flattery", sighting a "Barely Human". . .and more cockpit filling tales of the North.

Maybe it's the language barrier, or maybe it's the centuries-old British propaganda that Lord Nelson sank every French ship he met, but there does seem to be an almost total unawareness by Americans of the long, rich and varied French maritime heritage. This heritage is celebrated, in a most splendid manner, every four years in the port city of Brest and the neighboring fishing village of Douarnenez in northwestern Brittany. Brest 2000 went non-stop July 13-21 from 10 AM 'till 11 PM.

The scale of this festival was staggering. There were dozens of square-rigged ships of many nations, hundreds of restored or carefully replicated traditional workboats and scores of beautiful old yachts. The local newspaper, Ouest France, reported 2,500 vessels along seven kilometers of docks, 2,000 musicians, and 1.2 million visitors. On shore there were displays of wooden boat building, sailmaking, rigging, a portable foundry, casting ships hardware and some Irishmen weaving a traditional round currach. There were ship modelers, half modelers and a rope walk. We stumbled across the S. F. Maritime Museum's feluca, Nuovo Mondo whose Todd Block was in earnest conversation with Jacqueline Angel of the Musée Maritime de Marseille on the differences between Italian and southern French feluce.

There were bars, pubs, cafés, restaurants and outdoor grills. The whole festival smelled like moules grillées. Bagpipe bands appeared regularly. Groups of chantymen were everywhere, some quite good, some godawful. A couple of times we were treated to a very spiffy military band from the French Navy base across the river.

The Frenchman takes this event seriously. He brings his wife, his children, his dog and his mother-in-law. He comes early and stays all day. No matter that he doesn't know babord from tribord he studies each exhibit carefully and explains it to his wife.

Now, you would think that such a massive collection of vessels, once safely moored, would thankfully stay put for the week. Not at all. There is a Race Schedule! Each day hundreds of ships (no kidding, full-rigged ships!), yachts, fishing boats and other traditional work boats cast off and sail a race course in the Rade de Brest. It was a little far to see the races clearly from land, but it was great fun to watch them return under sail, maneuvering in close quarters, delaying, it seemed, furling their sails and starting their engines as long as possible. I can remember watching the Sedov, a 385 ft. Russian school-ship, docking, in reverse, with her crew aloft, out on the yards, standing at attention on top of her freshly furled sails!

At day five, this massive fleet gets under way and makes a 26 mile passage out the Goulet de Brest, around les Tas de Pois, a grim rocky point, and on to Dournenez. This old, traditional fishing village has become a modern fishing and yachting center. Much nicer than Brest, it absorbs and redistributes its overcrowding in a much more elegant manner. We found a couple of nice restaurants and a delightful automobile-free outdoor market.

Of all the vessels we saw, the most dramatic were the Breton and Normand sailing fishing boats. There were dozens, restored or replicated at the fête. They are strong, fast handsome seaworthy vessels, at their design zenith in the 19th century, but still working into the first third of the 20th century. They were precisely designed for their job. Lougres, Chaloupes, Goélettes or Bisquines, carrying 2-3 masts, often unstayed, sometimes gaff-rigged, but usually gréés au tiers (lug rigged). Look at the photo of the lovely Bisquine, La Granvillaise. She carried this huge sail area in light airs to dredge oysters and to get to market first with a full load. Note how convenient it is to shorten this rig to survive a sudden channel storm.

We visited a commercial harbor and boat yard and observed contemporary fishing boats. They are steel-hulled, high freeboard, powerful vessels, reflecting the challenges of the rugged Breton coast, with its 15 foot tide range and nasty, fast-moving winter fronts coming in from the North Atlantic. Impressive.

Finally, if I've interested you at all in Brest 2004, it's important to plan ahead. You could book a room at the Downtown Holiday Inn at Brest now and be able to walk to the fête, but you'd miss a lot. Western Brittany in the summertime is green and mostly sunny but not too hot. There are lots of country inns and B&B's, but they will fill up fast (Remember, there were 1.2 million visitors!). Driving in France is not the challenge it used to be. The roads are excellent and French drivers have mellowed a lot. Early in 2003, I expect that Brest 2004 will set up a website.