TRIMMING OUT Heads South...San Francisco Bay to Ventura, California

I had put it off long enough.  The BIG TRIP.  My first singlehanded voyage outside Biscayne Bay, Florida.  (where I had sailed up and down the bay by myself in my Pearson Triton, FIDELIO, using a sometimes working Tillermaster electronic self steering device).

Where Biscayne Bay had always seemed safe and accommodating (if one ignored the summertime squalls), and warm...the Pacific Ocean beyond San Francisco Bay seemed cold, grey and intimidating.  Driving over the Golden Gate Bridge and viewing the approaches to the Bay from the Marin Headlands made it even worse.  You can see the tidal rips, the surf on the rocks jutting out, and the spume from the breakers when the wind is in the right direction.  But you can also see sailboats making the passage...so it can be done.

If you look at all the websites and pictures of sailboats on San Francisco Bay, the photographs usually show it blowing like stink.  That aspect was intimidating too.  Did I have it together to take a 39' sloop through that by myself?  Well....had to do it, because none of the folks who wanted to come along were able to due to other obligations.

TRIMMING OUT was fresh out of the yard...new exhaust system, refurbished stuffing box, new bottom paint, year old sails and standing rigging, most systems working, new DSC VHF, paper charts, electronic charts, an iPhone and iPad with GPS, and both masthead tri-color and traditional deck level running lights...including steaming light.  I also had mounted my Davis radar reflector, and sported an Achilles inflatable on the foredeck.  And, I had refurbished my great AutoHelm self steering vane and practiced with it.  It worked.  No reason not to go.

This is a picture of a Sunday afternoon race when the wind isn't above 10 kts.  Very unusual for the Bay.  It was about like this the morning I motored out and under the Golden Gate Bridge.  The "tidal rips" noted on the chart existed, but weren't that bad, bouncing the 19000lb TRIMMING OUT around a bit, but as it was coming on to slack water as I motored under the bridge, I eased on out into the Pacific.

The thing you see hanging off the stern of TRIMMING OUT is the self steering vane.  This particular model is manufactured by SCANMAR.  Under the boat you can see the primary rudder.  The auxiliary rudder is the one on the stern.  When the sails are set and trimmed, the primary rudder is fixed in place, and the auxiliary rudder takes over, guided by the wind vane on top of the black pole on the stern of the boat.  The wind hits the vane on one side or the other, depending on which way the boat has wandered off course.  The vane then tilts due to the pressure of the wind.  The tilting vane moves the trim tab at the end of the auxiliary rudder, the trim tab then turns the auxiliary rudder to point the boat back where it's supposed to go, and the windvane goes back upright, waiting to be hit on one side or the other again, when the boat wanders back off course.

While it seems complicated, it's quite easy to operate, and the movements are constant...keeping the boat headed where you pointed it when you set the vane...unless of course the wind changes direction.  In my case, the wind was from the same direction, North West, for hours.  What changed was the strength of the wind.  And that almost proved my undoing.  But that was the next day.

The day I left the predictions were for the wind on the Bay to be around 10-15kts, and out on the Ocean from around 15-20, gusting to 25.  I had been in conditions like that before, so wasn't too concerned.  But there were some warnings for stronger winds farther out.  I figured the 25 kt. gusts were easy peasy as I was sailing in a southerly or southeasterly direction.  The wind would be over my starboard quarter and the boat would be on its best point of sail.

After getting out from under the bridge, I set course for the buoy where I had planned to change course south.  I had been motoring the whole way, as I didn't want to have to worry about my sailing ability the first time out, even though in retrospect it would have been just as prudent.  I unfurled the 130% genny and steered by hand to the buoy.  There I shut down the diesel and trimmed the boat for the course that would take me to the point off Half Moon Bay where I planned to enter the harbor and anchor for the night.  The steering vane was set, everything was fine, and I was on my way.  Quite content with myself I might add, as I took bearings on the windmills and towers noted on the chart.  And also noted that I was cooking along at a good 6+kts.

I forgot to mention that one of my navigation tools is a device called the Walker Patented Taffrail Log.  This is an archaic instrument that tells you without any electronics, how far you've gone.  It consists of a spinner shaped like a miniature torpedo with vanes to make it spin, attached to a braided line that allows the spinner to be trailed off the stern of the boat.  The line is attached to the instrument attached to the stern of the boat (traditionally on the taffrail)  The instrument itself has one big dial indicating knots, and smaller dials with increments.  I streamed mine 16.5 nautical miles from the buoy where I changed course into Half Moon Bay where my log states that I brought up in 3 fathoms of water at 1705, and that I had chicken for dinner.

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Back to the Delta, Going to Memphis

It's said that the Mississippi Delta begins in the lobby of Peabody Hotel in Memphis, and ends at Catfish Row in Vicksburg.  On the east of the Delta are the "hills" and the western border is the River itself.  The alluvial flood plain is the Delta.  That's where the cotton grows still, along with rice and soybeans, and now catfish.   John Lee Hooker, BB King, Mississippi John Hurt and Morgan Freeman are from the Delta.  And while I wasn't born there, it's where I'm from too.

Mom's not from the Delta, but she is a Delta Belle.  She grew up in Memphis, and it was to Memphis that she and I drove while TRIMMING OUT was on the hard, being tended to by the good folks at British Marine in Alameda, prior to my sailing down the coast of California.  The Memphis trip was in conjunction with her 90th birthday celebration scheduled in Cleveland, MS, and with the 50th reunion of my class at Cleveland High School...tho I wasn't to graduate with them...they let me think I'm a classmate.

So down to Memphis we drove from her home in Kentucky.  Old haunts were visited....the house where my dad proposed, the Memphis Academy of Art where he and she performed a piano duet once, and he conducted the local opera company's "Carmen" when I was 11.  We passed Rhodes College and the Halliburton Tower, named for the local explorer who Mom revealed was one of her early heroes.  She and her best friend were going to be "foreign correspondents" after they matriculated from Miss Hutchison's...perhaps the impetus for some of my adventuring...Peace Corps, motorcycling and such.

Then down to the Delta itself.   Hiway 61 now goes right past the well marked entrances to Tunica's gambling emporia, but bypasses such towns as Clarksdale, Shelby and Mound Bayou...depriving visitors of the real flavor of that unique part of the world.  Even Merigold has a bypass, an attempt to speed the motorist along, or to deprive the local merchants of customers...who knows?  It ain't the way it was.

The visit with the family was great, and that with a luncheon at the Country Club where I had been a lifeguard in the late 60's...listening to the Beatles and the Stones and Herman's Hermits while my wards splashed and tanned, brought back the nostalgia of the Delta summers.

The reunion was terrific too, with big smiles and lots of hugs, and "whatever happened to's...?"  It was an amazing class from a unique place.  Of the 80 odd graduates, at least 4 went on to become physicians, one an award winning author, architects, builders, farmers, ranchers, real estate developers and a plethora of educators, some of whom had been students of my father.  One had been blown off an oil rig during an explosion in the Gulf and lived to tell the tale, a few were veterans who served in Viet Nam, Europe and Stateside; one had served as a Red Cross Volunteer in Viet Nam, a few had lived abroad, while others had never left Bolivar County.  Just a wonderful group of people.

So when it was all over, Mom and I headed back to Kentucky via Oxford and Corinth, MS,  and I returned to California for the next leg of the Voyage...

Here's a picture of me, Mom and my brother, Richard, after her 90th birthday luncheon.

Into the Yard for TRIMMING OUT, and a trip to the Mississippi Delta

It was time for a  haul out.  TRIMMING OUT needed some cosmetic and mechanical work, and this was just more than I could do both physically and technically.  So the decision was made to have the work done at British Marine prior to the trip from the San Francisco Bay to Ventura, CA.  

On the the appointed morning I motored the short distance from my slip at Alameda Marina over to the boatyard.  For some reason the normal 1600 rpm on the Perkins 4-107 diesel wasn't delivering the usual 5.5 knots.  In fact, the boat seemed downright sluggish.  Was I towing some debris?  A fishing net perhaps?  Or was my propeller so fouled that it had become totally inefficient?   Well....here's what it was....a very foul bottom:

Yep...that's the growth that occurred on my two year old ablative paint and after a three month old bottom cleaning. YUK!!

But with the help of a pressure hose washdown, this stuff all came off quickly,  revealing a fairly in shape bottom for a practically 50 year old boat.  As the sprayer took off a layer or two or three, the actual original gel coat could be seen.  But it would need additional sanding and the prop would need burnishing.  Zincs needed replacing, a water pump rebuild and exhaust system replacement were all indicated, and I needed to head off to Kentucky to collect my mother for the next part of the voyage.  Mom, as you may have figured,  is an original Delta Belle, and in fact, a contemporary of the original Memphis Belle.  And she wanted to go visit her old stomping grounds in conjunction with her 90th birthday.  So here's how I left TRIMMING OUT: