Date: 17 March 2007/Depart: 1200 Anchor Marina/Arrive:1700 Anchor Marina/Wind: S clocking to SW 0-12mph/Skies: Clear/Water Color: Clear/Seas: <1'/Tide: Rising/
It was the first time I have had Olivia out for a stroll since the infamous appendix incident. Sean and his flavor-of-the-week girlfriend had flown in from Houston to survey his new Trimaran purchase, Sand Shaker (soon to be rechristened Rell Sunn).
We finished breakfast at Costa del Mar, and headed over to 'Div to rig up. It took about 45 minutes to get the sails uncovered, clipped on, halyards attached and sheets strung up, before being able to get underway. I raised up the mizzen sail as Sean and Tamara showed up and fired up the Westerbeke, just as a small sailing dingy with Jimmy (Bueno Bye) aboard pulled alongside.
He warned us that we might not get out, but judging from the water level on the pilings, I figured it wouldn't be a problem. And besides, if we did get stuck, we could just wait for the tide to come up more and float us off....I wanted to go sailing....
Heading out into the turning basin, Walter Sohl shouted "You're not gonna make it out"....but I just quipped back over my shoulder; "I only draw three feet!". He said something else, but I wasn't paying attention.
Couldn't the fool see, I needed to go sailing.
Soon we were steaming around the corner, past the McAfee house, D on the foredeck helping me negotiate the treacherous bar. No problem at all, and we were soon past marker 13, turning south into a light breeze in our faces. I was practically salivating at the thought of sailing for a few hours.
Up goes the main and the big jib, catching the light breeze, and Olivia labors forward as close to the wind on the nose as we can go. One thing about this boat, in light winds she makes lots of headway, and goes SLOW. It probably doesn't help to have the bottom as dirty as it is either, and I am obsessing on getting it out of the water, scraped and painted SOON.
We make a few tacks, but seem to be getting nowhere, so I fire up the Iron Genny and head into the wind, shutting down near Pirates Landing pier, and sailing in the light air again. The bay is foul with an obstacle course of bamboo markers, styrofoam floats and geophones all from the ongoing seismic profiling, which is going to last, we've been told, till sometime in May.
It is a frustrating game of dodge-obstacle, and I have to cut some tacks short to avoid running over the thousands of obstructions. Sometimes we lose ground as we come about and the light, finicky wind dies for a moment, almost stalling the boat.
Eventually we make it over to the east side, and I line up to shoot the causeway overpass, just as Night Magic comes through, luffing their big Genny for a moment, before turning east along the causeway, back to their new mooring at Palm Street pier on the Island. Spring break is in full swing, and traffic on the causeway is stalled, bumper to bumper. There's even people walking across.
Behind me one of the minion of infernal airboats tending the seismic operation roars up to a buoy (probably to plant explosives), and I hear it like some giant bee in the background.
The wind is so light, and on the nose that I decide to fire up the engine again and motor under the causeway to make better time.
On the other side, the wind runs out again, as we try and tack to the starboard, and I have to fire up again to avoid drifting backwards into the causeway pushed by the strong current flowing north.
We make a few other half hearted tacks, but soon I decide just screw it, and head downwind under the causeway, where about 3/4 of the way through the current catches us and tries to push us into the east side (which I am too close to anyway), so I fire up again, spinning about 90 degrees in the current, before regaining just a hint of wind to fill the sails, and we head west downwind towards the fingers.
We raise the baby sail to catch whatever light breeze we can, and I hold my breath, steering carefully so as not to spill any wind. Near the entrance channel, the wind freshens just a bit (wouldn't you know it?), as I turn Olivia to irons and we put the canvas away, steaming back into the fingers. Tying up D and Sean are wrestling the bow, which is hunting back and forth in the wind in response to the mizzen sail, still up. Sean rams his bare foot onto a sequoia sized splinter, limps off to perform surgery. The rest of us finish tying off the boat, and I let the twins go up the mast to the spreaders, something I promised them beforehand if they behaved.... (well.....they asked....)
We got the sails folded and bagged, and everything else organized, and out came the beanbags and beverages. We lounged around on the back deck sipping cold beverages and enjoying the Saturday show. Sean called from Sand Shaker, and asked if we were still aboard. When I told him "yep", he said "OK, we'll be down there in a minute".
I went back to lounging, started to drift off into a semi-coma, when I heard the clanging of a ships bell. I sat up, and coming down the channel was a big sailboat. Momentarily confused, I suddenly realized it was Sand Shaker, motoring out of its slip for the first time in probably, years. She looked as wide as a duplex, and Commodore Sean had some problems on the return, running aground at the end of the finger, but a kindly neighbor watching the whole thing pulled him off with his skiff, and he managed to get it tied back up....
We walked over to the Golden China for dinner, and afterwards played a few card games with the twins. It was now near midnight, and we were all tired, and besides Spring Break cops were everywhere....
There wasn't much onboard in the way of bedding because I had taken most everything to the house to have it washed after all winter aboard. The sleepyhead twins didn't have pillows, so I gave them each a sail bag stuffed with soft sails, and instantly, they were fast asleep. Someday it will make a memory for them and I can imagine them telling their kids:
"Sometimes we'd use sails as pillows aboard my Dad's boat, the Olivia"....
Sail pillows make for good dreams. | 
