Last Minutes before Mexico

Robert was given a winch that he tore apart at Linda's house (Her backyard is a sail loft/painter's studio/boat part shop) and made it look and work like new. It is a windlass that belongs on an old salty type boat, and I made a cover for it. Now, I would like an electric windlass, where you can stand and push a button while checking out the scenery. But, we are blessed with something we can afford: it was free. And we are blessed with the friendship of the fellow that gave it to us. So where ever we go, we will thank Robert J., our harbor neighbor who encourages us as we get ready to leave. And we do, leave next Thursday.
Just a windlass is not enough: you have to drill lots of holes in the deck for the deck opening, hawsepipe, the chain stopper, build a chain locker (which is under our bed and makes me wonder how we get rid of future mud smells, etc.), and find out that our deck is 1 1/2" thick. The end of our bed will be chopped off, so that the dogs and some midgets will be able to stretch out there, just so there is room for the chain. We are getting muscles from hauling it around - in the basket, out of the basket. Who said yachting is glamour? Wait. Is this yachting?
Robert J. even made a handle for the windlass: we can crank up the anchor, getting exercise on the foredeck which means we eyeball the painted links and figure how long it will take to get the chain up. Exercise is good.

Countdown to the Big Adventure

The fairway behind our boat was covered in gold from the late sun and a man was on the dock taking pictures, raving about the beauty in our harbor. He told us he had been to Mexico two Haha's ago and we would have a wonderful time. Getting there, lately means all sorts of little projects we never thought of in the past: rebuild and install a windlass, get more cheap charts, clean out lockers, build an anchor locker, etc. And yet, we can, as that man said, "chase the sunset". Tomorrow is fall, and we can feel it. The idea of hot sun and warm water is lovely, but we will remember this night. The lesson is getting there is half the journey.

Our tax dollars at work

Our marina is across from Coast Guard Island and every once in a while we get to see the coasties heading out. The photo is from the bow of our boat looking out on the Estuary - Oakland is behind the ship. When it returned a few days later, a horrible screaming noise was coming from the ship and no tugs were anywhere around. It went out silent and came back pulling us all out of our boats to see what was wrong. We have sort of rickety docks alongside our boats, and a parade ensued to go watch the ship get back into its corral. A huge tug opened the floats that keep the ships in their area and we watched it backing into the dock, all along wondering if it was going to blow up. All the turbine noise made us crazy. Two days later, No. 721 went out silent as stealth.

We get excited about the smallest things.

San Pablo Bay Adventure

A cloudy (fog, fog, fog...say it slowly) out of the Estuary to head north to the Delta. Jean is in her throne and needs a few more phone books to see over the wheel. The boat in back was part of the Jazz Cup race that was going our direction - north towards Delta. We got close to them so Queen jean could do her wave. They pretended to be unimpressed - they had bodies everywhere and we were sailing a huge boat with three people.
The sun came out and we coasted through the hundred or so boat getting ahead of them all as they milled around the start. Great, soft weather, little wind -an amazing ride across the Slot and up the north Bay. Unusual as we are usually blown to rats...



Ok - happiness here as we had been pulled off "the sandbar" by two angels: Eric and Mark, after a hellish night of kedging to get into deep water. Eric runs a strange little marina tucked away on San Pablo Bay that looks as if it was the site for a marine Deliverance movie. We took the dogs in to relieve their crossed legs and found Eric and his son.
So Plan B ---go to Pt. Richmond.

And a very tired skipper(below) who had cranked and cranked and

stayed up most of the night to make sure we didn't fall over on our keel. We floated, sort of.... and managed to get some energy to leap in the air when Eric pulled us off on the first try, right into the deep.

We were all exhausted: this is cruising, working out solutions. According to Jean and Robert, the boat had slid over the anchor after all the midnight kedging and we were probably ready to swing free with the tide. But with the exhaustion, lack of sleep and muscles aching from the winching, we could allow help from the angels. Eric is a Baptist who helps out disadvantaged kids, and he didn't want any money for his help, saying: I have clothes, food on the table, and need nothing.

We gave him something for the kids, thinking that gas costs money and we can pay it forward.


As for those boats in the Jazz cup, they glided, spinnakers and strange south wind, beautiful damn butterflies fight in front of us. Maybe they thought we had stopped to enjoy the race. Unh huh.

These are actually two islands: the Brothers. And as they are on the left side, we were in deep water and heading for a night of rest at Pt. Richmond, muttering that not one of those bastard Jazz Cup guys offered to help. They were smart.

Portuguese Bar

Hawaiians would think that title is a lead in to a joke, but it isn't - river bars you can camp on are called bars - this one is on the Klamath River, in some convoluted, high mountains, and
full of blackberries and grape vines. Go figure-some pioneer left grapes. In the middle of nowhere are signs that say "no monument'. Okayyy. What we wanted was a place to cool the dogs as Medford had been 103, shades of Az, and I even got in to fight the current and lolled around. Peace, tranquility and prayer time to heal elders hurting from operations and family discord was found here. People who are taught to meditate are told to focus on a mantra or a sound, and the rapids were soothing away huge concerns about lack of honor in family doings. After awhile, nothing was important here except what was for dinner.
We climbed out of this valley on another heartstopping road that curved up and around so many times that I feared the dogs would get car sick, and back down into the cool of the coastal redwoods. Away from family dramas and into a new mindset: peace at any price means more of what is available at Portuguese Bar - and that is coming up.
Forgiveness of all things is possible when you have time to think and let solitude work it's magic. Distance and sending messages of love and peace are necessary to keep the mind tranquil when that other stuff of life is trying to rock the boat. Making choices is important, minute by minute at times, not to escape, but to remember that like that river, it all changes over time. Forgetting, now, is another matter.