|
FLYING STAR: A SAILBOAT'S STORY - This is a sort of travel/adventure story with a lot to interest sailors and non-sailors
alike. It is the tale of one man and his boat, but it is also a travel guide, offering plenty of ideas for adventure, with
or without a boat.
From Chapter VII: "Hello San Francisco Vessel Control. This is the vessel Flying Star, Metro, Yankee, Kilo, Niner.
Out of San Francisco bound for Kauai." What a thrill to make that call! After all the work, planning and preparations
for this trip, we were actually underway! I was about to fulfill one of the dreams I had lived with for a very long time.
We were following the route of the Single-Handed Transpac Race from San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge to Hanalei
Bay on the north coast of the island of Kauai, the most westward of the Hawaii Islands. My friend, Frank Dinsmore, was one
of the racers, and my crew and I hoped to join him and the other racers at the end of the race.
Day One: June 19, 1982. Vessel Flying Star left Presidio Yacht Club, just inside the Golden Gate, at 0500 Pacific
Daylight Time under high, overcast skies and calm conditions. E. Claude Morgan, Captain; Ray Stout, Navigator/Radio Operator;
Claudia Halpert, Navigator/Crew Member; Dan Haines, Crew Member. I was very pleased with the three persons who made up the
crew.
At 0935 Pacific Daylight Time we will be passing the Farallons. We are reading 17.6 miles on the knot log. Very calm
seas; very smooth water, and I am putting out the Walker Taffrail Log at this time. We are reading 225 feet on the depthometer.
That depth of 225 feet was about to change drastically. As we passed the most western Farallon Island, the depthometer
went blank, which meant we had passed the Farallon Bank and the depth was more than 100 fathoms. Ray said, "You can secure
the depthometer now." He was right. I turned the power off and did not turn it back on. As we passed over the bank, we
were treated to a magnificent show. Cavorting along the bank we saw dolphins, sharks, seals, bait fish, thousands of birds
and even a couple of whales. Certainly a most auspicious beginning for our voyage! We viewed it as a good omen.
From Chapter IX: With its "1,000 miles of waterways," the California Delta is an ideal place for boats and water
sports, hosting Crawdad and Catfish Jubilees, Seafood Festivals, Moo-B-Qs, Almond and Pear Festivals, as well as houseboating,
waterskiing and all-year seasons of catfish, striped bass and sturgeon fishing. Very good sailing conditions are also to be
found in many areas. The Delta offers more than 120 boat harbors, resorts and marinas.
With our latest copy of Hal Schell's Delta Map, we left the comfortable slip at the Virgin Sturgeon Marina and headed
down the Sacrmaento River. We passed a number of resorts and restaurants, the confluence of the Sacramento and American Rivers
and came to a railroad bridge across the Sacramento River called the "I" Street Bridge.
This bridge, built in 1912 by the Southern Pacific Railroad, has been in continuous operation since that time, making
it one of the oldest drawbridges in California. It is a "swing type" bridge constructed on a large pylon in the
middle of the river. The bridge rotates around the pylon much like a gate opening, allowing passage on either side. The control
house is located on top of the pylon and the operator actuates an electric motor which unlocks the tracks connected to the
bank at each end. When the tracks are disconnected, the operator actuates another motor which drives the rotating mechanisms.
When the bridge has rotated 90 degrees, it stops in that position.
That is how the bridge is supposed to operate! In truth, it practically never does. At least it usually doesn't the
first time it is tried, and this was one of the times when the bridge decided to be contrary...
Immediately following our escape from the "I" Street Bridge, we were treated to the sight of the "most
beautiful movable steel bridge completed in 1935" on the Sacramento River. The Tower Bridge was the recipient of that
award when it was opened on Sunday, December 15, 1935. The Tower Bridge is a vertical-lift type. As we exited the Tower Bridge
we were in the center of Sacramento passing the area known as "Old Sacramento," where paddle-wheelers unloaded gold
seekers and supplies for the sourdoughs during the California Gold Rush days. Naturally, the area is much different now, but
much of Old Sacramento has been restored. It also hosts one of the largest and most authentic railroad museums to be found
anywhere.
Thirteen miles south we came to another type of drawbridge. Freeport Bridge is a bascule bridge... The Sacramento
River is fully navigable from the center of Sacramento to the Golden Gate Bridge.
At the end of "Flying Star," you will find a very helpful Resource List that will help you locate and contact
the many places mentioned in the book.
ALL GOES WELL - This is a unique look at the heartland of American from its rivers and waterways. Again, it is as much a travel
guide as it is an uplifting and entertaining story. The people and places encountered tell us something good about America,
and the places we visited are recommended to boaters and non-boaters for their own travel adventures.
We chose the name Tout Va Bien (which in French means "all goes well") because it is the name of our most
favorite French restaurant in New York City. Besides, I like the way the French trickles off the tongue! She was definitely
the best Nauticat 33 in the United States (I know...I looked at many!). I was eagerly anticipating bringing her home to California,
but first we planned to travel from Au Gres, Michigan (where we bought her) through Lake Huron and Lake Michigan and then
down the entire length of the U.S. from Chicago to Mobile, Alabama. We would end in Seabrook, Texas.
We departed Au Gres before dawn and sailed out into Lake Huron. Tom and I are both avid sailors and once we were
out of the harbor and headed north, we checked the wind, which was from the southeast at about 17 knots. We made the decision
to unfurl the Genoa sail. Everything was looking good, but we were soon to receive an unforgettable lesson in Great Lakes
sailing during thunderstorm activities.
The wind, which had been so friendly, suddenly became gale-force, and driving rain restricted our visibility to such
an extent we could hardly see the bowsprit. This was punctuated by great claps of thunder and blinding flashes of lightning.
Everything seemed to reach a crescendo when the lightning actually struck the water about 50 yards from our position. (At
this point, Fern's praying became louder than the thunder.)
Tom went aft and attempted to furl the jib, but the wind was putting such pressure on the sail he could not get the
furler to turn. He finally used the jib-sheet winch while I, at the helm, crossed through the wind to relieve the pressure
as much as possible. Using this technique, we were able to furl the jib about 75 percent, then we learned the furling line
was too short to complete the furling. It seems the furling line had only been used in very light or no-wind conditions and,
under the very strong winds we were experiencing, the sail was wrapped so tight the line was too short to completely furl
the jib.
When we realized we had done all we could, we headed north and decided to continue on course. The wind continued
to whip the jib sail and eventually ripped the leach line out of the sail. Fortunately, the storm passed and the wind abated,
and we were able to continue to our destination in relative comfort, thanks to a completely glass-enclosed cockpit, which
is one of the great advantages of the Nauticat.
We arrived at the Alpena, Michigan marina at about 5:30 p.m. on September 17 after traveling 77 nautical miles. We
licked our wounds that night, repaired the sail and, early the next morning, a much more experienced crew left the harbor
and headed north on the great Lake Huron...
On September 24, we decided to stop in St. Joseph/Benton Harbor, 40 miles south, to prepare the boat for the trip
through Chicago. It seems there are more than 50 bridges to pass under when going through the city, and many of them are so
old the opening mechanisms are completely rusted closed, so it was necessary to remove both masts and stow them lengthwise
on the deck in order to pass under the bridges...
On October 8 we left the dock early as usual and had to make a decision whether to go farther up the Ohio River and south
on the Cumberland River through Lake Barkley and across the Barkley Canal into Kentucky and the Tennessee River or to enter
the Tennessee River at Paducah and go through the Kentucky Dam lock into Kentucky Lake. ...We decided to go directly through
the Kentucky Dam lock, as there was a marina just inside the lock on Kentucky Lake. Since we had not had showers for the past
two nights, we were anxious to "get civilized" and also needed to refuel Tout Va Bien.
The lock was one of the highest lifts we had seen (57 feet), and when we exited into Kentucky Lake a cold front
came through. When we turned south and traversed the entire length of the dam, we encountered headwinds of 30 knots which
whipped the water into some very uncomfortable rollers. We gladly entered the nice marina in the park. After refueling, we
were loaned a car so we could go shower at the airport some six miles away...
We were cruising merrily along when a voice came over the VHF radio calling, "The sailboat headed downriver."
I responded and identified myself and the boat. The caller identified himself as the captain of the tow boat on our starboard
stern. I looked and saw a tow with three barges loaded with recreation vehicles of all types. The captain said, "My passengers
are interested in your boat, where you came from and where you are going."
By this time I could see all the people standing by their RVs watching us. The captain opened his radio loudspeakers
for the group and I told them all about our trip. I then asked, "What in the world are you doing?"
The answer was that a tour company charters the boat and barges and for a fee people drive their RVs onto the barge
for the trip downriver. The people eat and sleep in their RVs. In large cities, the barge pulls up to the docks and the passengers
can go sightseeing. ...It reminded me of another time when we saw a tow boat with a barge carrying an absolutely gigantic
cylinder, and when we called to ask what it was, the captain very good naturedly answered that it was a casing for a missile...
We reached Cuba Landing about dark, and they put us up at the gas dock. After one of Fern's great dinners, Tom treated
us to ice cream cones in the small general store, and I got a lesson in Tennessee philosophy when I asked the storekeeper
if I could buy a newspaper that was lying on the counter. He said, "Nope, I won't sell it." I said, "Okay."
Then he said, "I'll give it to you, but I won't sell it to you!" I said, "Well, thank you very much, but don't
you want to read it first?" He said, "Nope. I'll git another one tomorry mornin', and it'll say the same thing this'n
says!" I couldn't think of anything to top that, so I thanked him again and left.
If you love boating or just exploring America's varied scenes by any mode of transportation, you will enjoy reading this
book!
|
