Friday, September 19, 2014

Tossled

Yes, you are correct. I made up a word. It's my attempt to capture the way my experience when we were anchored in Monterey Bay. I think it works. You be the judge...

We had a pleasant enough stay - four nights - at the Monterey Marina, but at 35 bucks a night, it was reaching a little too deeply into our pockets. So, like some of the other boats in the Coho Ho Ho rally, we anchored out on our fifth night in the bay. (By the way, one of the main reasons we stayed so long in Monterey was to wait for our cohorts who were lagging behind us by several days. I'm not saying it's their fault, I'm just blaming them.) 

It didn't take too long to realize why the guidebooks recommended docking rather than anchoring in the bay. (Note: Our buddies who had already spent a night at anchor didn't mention a thing in warning to us. Hmmm. Friends? I think not!) This anchorage is the rolliest I've ever had the displeasure to drop the hook in! It was so bad that my water bottle kept flying off the shelf by my head and crashing into my gut. I learned fast (can you believe it?) and after the second time, I moved it to the floor for the rest of the night.

The side-to-side rolling was truly unbelievable. It made it quite impossible to sleep. I lay there just waiting for it to stop or for the alarm to go off. It was a lot like when I went on glacier climbs and I would just lay there, unable to sleep, waiting for the alarm to save me from myself so we could get on with the business of climbing that mountain. The anticipation. The worry. The unsuccessful counting of sheep. Aaah! (Here, it's not the mountain I want to climb but the coast we want to sail around.) It was so rough and bouncy I couldn't believe we weren't back trying to round Cape Blanco, where I had to sit on the floor to put my pants on! We were tethered to the floor of the bay for gosh sakes, so why so rough???

So with nothing else to do, I began thinking. (Yes, dangerous, I know.) I began wondering why some people tolerate this disturbing action better than others do. Could it be that babies who were rocked in one of those cradles that rock side-to-side actually find this motion reminiscent of when they were first out of the womb and safely cradled near their mother's nurturing side? Could that be why this motion has the opposite effect on me, because to the best of my knowledge, my parents didn't own a cradle like that? Would my brother or sister know? Did Brad's parents use one and that is why he takes so well to this? Is it too late for remedial cradle training??? Well anyway, it's just a theory...

Then I thought, so this is what it must feel like to be a blade of sea grass in the surf zone, about 10 or 15 feet from the beach. The unrelenting motion of the water lifting me higher and higher as it pulls me in toward the sandy beach, stretching my tether to the max, then briefly the tip of my blade experiences the feeling of weightlessness as the rushing water reaches its apex and seemingly stops for but an instant before it abruptly sucks my undulating blade back out to sea with a rush and a gurgle. My, what a ride! But wait! Let's do it all again and again, ceaselessly, but with a slightly different rhythm and flow rate just to keep things interesting. And let's do this minute after minute, hour after hour. And don't forget to throw in a rogue wave every ten or twenty minutes just to really shake things up!

I don't like being a blade of sea grass!  So glad to be out of there!

Monday, September 15, 2014

Gay's Pictures from Seattle to San Francisco

Bet you have been wondering why I haven't included any pictures. It's because I can't seem to get my iPhone photostream to download to my computer so I can't get them on my blog. Technology can be so darn frustrating sometimes! Anyway, Brad has found a workaround for the time being. Here is a link to my photos. (Some of these will be duplicates from ones I already posted on Facebook, but others won't be.) At some point, I hope to be able to share the videos I've taken, but that will have to wait until another time...

Try this link to see my pictures and be sure to double-click on the first one so that you can see the captions on the right of each picture: https://plus.google.com/photos/115783377887855980521/albums/6059403068051631105?gpinv=AMIXal-DCRYNrjeIbWMB-6x_A10JdbMh_zRItOXOktJvvxr9RZBFFAOcT6BboJpHi6wfqj0k9m3VXvJjhIlL2qlPAoYm_W4RpLQJ8ZpfJhRJ0WJ2tEGxhbg&cfem=1&authkey=COS99eP014n33gE



Saturday, September 6, 2014

BART and the Ticket for Idiots

Today we took a ride on BART, Bay Area Rapid Transit. Being a newbie can be difficult. It was nice to have so many helpful people volunteer to steer us in the right direction. If they hadn't, I wonder where we would have ended up?

First, we had to buy tickets. Do they have manned ticket booths so you can talk to a live person? No. Instead, they have credit card vending machines that are terribly confusing. We managed to find a roving attendant who told us we needed to take the Richmond/Fremont line, then transfer at the MacArthur station to the SFO/Millbrae line and then get off at the Powell Street station. He also told us to buy round trip fares because they are cheaper than buying two one-way tickets. $7.80 per person. He pointed us toward the vending machines and off we went.

There were two vending machines, side by side. Just about when we are about to reach the front of the line for the left machine, it proclaims itself "out of order". Literally. (I didn't know machines could self-diagnose like that. Who knew???) So everyone from the left line shifts to the right line. Each person in turn ahead of us efficiently purchases their tickets lickety-split. So fast indeed that we can't watch and learn how it works. Damn!

Now it's finally our turn and there is a line 10 or 15 people deep behind us. The pressure! Brad sticks in his credit card. In response, it displays a confusing set of options, such as "add 1 dollar", "subtract 1 dollar", "add 10 cents", "subtract 10 cents", and a few other options I don't have a chance to read. I'm expecting something like "choose your destination" or "choose 1-way or round-trip", not simple mathematics! Brad starts pushing buttons, adding dollars, and then realizes the total says $22. WTF??? He quickly hits cancel and we are back to square one. People behind us are getting restless: Places to go and things to do.

Brad reinserts his credit card. This time we realize the system defaults to $20. Hmmm. How convenient for them! So we need to buy two round-trip tickets for a total of $15.60. Brad doesn't see the subtract 10 cents button, panics and just subtracts four dollars and hits okay. The ticket pops out. He reads it. It states that it is good FOR ONE PERSON ONLY! I ask him "What the hell, Brad? What about me? And why did you pay more than double for it???"

We get out of line, much to the relief of the folks behind us. We look at the turnstiles and see they require each person to insert a card. Damn! I guess that verbiage on the ticket doesn't lie. What to do? Brad goes back to the end of the ticket line we just vacated to buy another ticket. I'm thinking "I refuse to buy another ticket, damn it, just because they have a sucky, confusing vending system and we panicked!" So I hunt down the roving attendant who helped us earlier. Fortunately, he says this kind of thing happens all the time because of their confusing vending system. I couldn't agree more. He motions for Brad to come over to the information booth and give him our ticket. The attendant puts the card in a reader, retrieves 40 cents from some secret hiding place (a placard on the door to the booth says attendants have NO MONEY), and issues us a handwritten paper ticket outlining our route and the fact that we purchased round-trip fares for two. He then explains we must not lose this ticket and that we must present it to an attendant at the exit booth so that we can bypass the turnstiles and proceed through the emergency/handicapped gate. Things are finally looking up!

I LOVE public transportation, especially when it works like clockwork like it does here. The train was waiting for us and whisked us away immediately. No waiting. Then the transfer at the MacArthur station went well, and the Powell Street exit worked perfectly for our needs. It landed us right at the food court at the Westfield Mall downtown and since we arrived hungry, it couldn't have worked out better. And the paper ticket got us out the exit area without a hitch.

On our return trip, we showed the information/exit booth attendant our paper ticket so they would let us in, bypassing those pesky turnstiles again. We proceeded down to the train platform, obviously confused, trying to figure out which side of the platform we should be standing on. Another kind soul waiting for his train told us we were about to get on the wrong train and steered us toward the correct platform to stand on and which train to transfer to. We then got on the right train and got off at the right transfer point. Again, we just stood there confused yet again, trying to figure out what platform to approach. This time the conductor himself opened his side window and stuck his head out and yelled at us: "Do you two want the Richmond train?" I said "Yes, we're trying to get to Berkeley!" He replied, "Well get on quick!" (Geez, I wondered, do we have idiot tattooed on our foreheads or what???) Anyway, all the help was much appreciated.

Finally, we got off at the downtown Berkeley station where we had to show the attendant our handwritten ticket yet again to get past the turnstile exits. As I pulled the paper out of my pocket, Brad told the attendant, "Here's our ticket for idiots!" The guy just looked at me stone-faced, having none of it, while his partner started laughing. I sensed this wasn't going well, and quickly realized I had produced the Big Bus tour ticket we used earlier (for our tour of San Francisco) for his inspection, NOT the BART ticket. As I hurriedly pulled out the correct one, the attendant finally grinned. He and his buddy couldn't help but agree, "Yep, that's the idiot ticket, all right. Have a nice day!"

Friday, September 5, 2014

Land is Underrated - Crew is Overrated

This trip has made me realize just how much I LOVE LAND! It is solid and doesn't rock (unless there's an earthquake). Land has a lot going for it: mountains, valleys, beaches, cities with lots of people to talk to and every kind of store to buy every kind of thing that you might want. Landlubbers really take this for granted. They should appreciate the options available to them more than they do.

Ocean, on the other hand, has its pluses too, like bioluminescence you can see at night, dolphins, whales, seals and sun fish that frolic on the surface occasionally. But it is also a desert of saltwater with frequent fog at its surface so that you can't tell the sky from the water, and big waves that threaten to knock you over and scare the living crap out of you!

So at this point I think it is safe to say that I am still solidly in the landlubber category. Perhaps with time, I will turn into the true sailor/adventurer that Brad is hoping for... Time will tell...

As for crew, this adventure has lead Brad and I to believe we don't need crew, especially inexperienced crew. We realize we didn't really take the interviewing process seriously when we contemplated this journey, and perhaps we could have done better if we had. Anyway, I want to discuss this topic for those of you may be contemplating an off-shore trip in the future so you don't make the same mistakes we did.

Consider this: Crew aren't house guests. Crew aren't employees. Crew aren't slaves. Crew may or may not be friends. So how do you really treat them? This is a question we wrestled with the whole time we had them aboard. I don't have an answer for this. It is difficult to strike the right balance. We were polite and tried to be firm and clear in what we expected from them and overall, I think we got along okay, but it was a struggle.

Brad and I like our space and our privacy so we realize we are better off as a twosome. We had reserved the storage space and hanging locker for the crew. This meant we had to store the spinnaker on the back porch, which meant it got all wet from the salt spray and you couldn't get into the lazarette without moving this cumbersome, wet monster somewhere (where?) out of the way. It meant we had to store all of our clothing and outerwear into one small hanging locker that was stuffed so full the door wouldn't close. Irritating. Claustrophobic! We left LOTS of the clothing we wanted to bring for this potentially year long voyage because there simply wasn't room. We told the crew just how limited the storage would be days beforehand. Then Natalie shows up in Anacortes with THREE rather large duffel bags full of clothing for a two-week cruise. Brad and I just looked at each other. WTF? Fortunately, Tolga only showed up with one medium duffel and a daypack. Naturally, he had nowhere to put his stuff because Natalie had already used up all the storage space!

Here's an important consideration: I would suggest only considering crew who own their boats and who have done an extended trip OFF THE GRID. Living aboard at a marina just does NOT count. If they haven't dealt with power consumption and water conservation issues, then they will only cause you grief. Case in point, when Natalie and Tolga were brushing their teeth, washing up, or doing dishes, I would be in the salon wondering if they were drawing water for a bath! I often found the bathroom counter sopping wet with water streaming across the floor. What was going on in there??? In one day, seriously - one day, they used 60 gallons, emptying our port water tank! This was after repeatedly instructing them on how to conserve water. Amazing! A typical water usage rate for this latitude is about 5 gallons per person, so this tank should have lasted the four of us three days. At the rate they were consuming water, if our watermaker broke, we would only have water for TWO days! (We have two tanks.) Fortunately, my clever husband finally found a solution! He swapped out the galley faucet for the swim step faucet which requires you to push and hold the button to get water to dispense. It was like magic! No more wasted water. Of course, it was inconvenient to use, so as soon as the crew left, we put the faucets back. Oh happy day! To a lesser extent, we also had wasting power issues like leaving on fans and lights when no one was using them anymore. Since we motored most of the trip, this wasn't that much of an issue, just a bit of an annoyance, but we ignored this to keep the peace.

Experience off-shore is what makes a crew member valuable. They need to understand how to prevent oversteering, how to hold the boat directly into the wind, how to use the chart plotter and the autopilot, how to keep awake at night, how to preserve their night vision, what is required to effectively keep watch, how to effectively handle collision avoidance. Suffice it to say, these were issues we had with our crew. We knew up front that neither Natalie or Tolga had off-shore experience but thought because they had Puget Sound sailing experience that this would be enough. It wasn't. And it takes longer to learn this stuff than we realized. Neither of us felt safe enough to leave them alone on night watch so we made sure one of us stayed up with them to handle any problems that arose, so we might as well have just done it ourselves.

Another issue was communication. Natalie is Russian and Tolga is Turkish. While they spoke good English, it was often difficult to understand them and some of our terminology was a complete mystery to them. We often found ourselves thinking we understood each other when later it became obvious that we clearly didn't. Most of the time this wasn't a big deal, but it could be disastrous if it leads to broken equipment.

Crew, on the positive side, can provide comic relief and camaraderie. Every morning, Tolga would hit his head on the ceiling when exiting his bunk. He apparently has a very hard head because the "thunk" each morning was quite loud. Why, we wondered does this keep happening? Tolga said it was because he doesn't have an early warning system! (He is bald.) That one really cracked me up! Especially considering how quiet Tolga is. He is very reserved, so a joke from him was really something!

One time, when the thought of going below deck to make myself something to eat made me queasy, Natalie offered to make me a sandwich. I fell in love with her in that moment. She was very good about volunteering to do things and was good about helping to provision the boat so Brad and I didn't have to pay for everything. Natalie also had a great attitude and always looked on the positive side.
Also, it is nice to discuss your common suffering, so having another soul to talk to and compare strategies for survival is a wonderful thing.

I can't say Brad or I really bonded with either of our crew, but we all managed to tolerate each other as best we could. No foul language was used and no yelling ensued, so overall I guess we got by. But be aware that an extended stay together in a small boat will eventually cause some personality conflicts. Even best friends get a little old with constant contact! Just something to keep in mind for you would-be cruisers out there.

Brad Thrives, Gay Survives!

Some people really take to this cruising life, and Brad is one of them. Me, not so much! I am very proud of him. He adapts easily to sleep deprivation, relentless pitching and rolling, spontaneous problem-solving, and to diplomatically dealing with our crew. I, on the other hand, have just been trying to endure. Thank you, Brad, for being extremely well-prepared and for making this voyage safe and as painless as possible for me. I love you!

Just so you get a feel for what it's like out there on the sea, I will try to share some of my experiences and impressions. You can live vicariously if you like... So here goes...

First of all, I can't say I am crazy about traveling non-stop in a boat. I only get to sleep for two or three hours at a time because someone has to be on watch at ALL TIMES. With a 4-hour watch schedule, at most you can get three hours of sleep. (Unless you are Brad, who can go to sleep within 20 seconds of laying down, the lucky bastard!) On a 3-hour watch schedule, you can really only get about two hours of sleep. And then, your sleep is fitful at best because your body subconsciously clenches as it tries to brace against the forces rolling your torso back and forth on the mattress constantly. And I do mean constantly. Then the sea throws in a shuddering sideways slap against the hull from the opposing swell about every minute or so to really shake you up. Did I mention the sound of madly gushing, gurgling water about your head? Makes you want to pee all the time, at least it does me! I feel like I know what it must be like to be a boulder in a rapids during a flash flood. Tumultuous and roaring! While you are sleeping or attempting to do so, you can't help but think of impending doom. It's just so damn rough that you have to sit on the floor to put your pants and shoes on or risk getting thrown into the hull. (Yes, I have countless bruises and I have no idea exactly how I got them.) Then you get up and go topsides and find out that the seas really aren't all that bad. It just seems so rough in the v-berth that you can't believe the seas aren't gargantuan!

I am happy to report that although one of my biggest fears was being seasick all the time, at least so far this hasn't been the case. Don't get me wrong. The first two days at sea out of Neah Bay were hell on earth! I was just waiting for the wave that was going to do us in. Fortunately, the really big, bad rogue wave never came and the boat performed remarkably well in the heavy seas. Although I never got truly sick (as in vomiting), I DID get a little queasy that first day and I ate only saltine crackers. Food became more appealing to me the second day. By the third full day out, I realized the boat could handle the big seas and we would probably NOT die. (At least, as long as we didn't encounter that submerged container that I am always worrying about.) So I relaxed and was able to enjoy the trip, although I don't know that "enjoy" is really the right word.

We were shrouded in fog as we left Neah Bay, near the "mouth" of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. As we rounded Cape Flattery to fully enter the Pacific Ocean, the excitement truly began! We followed behind Andante, the only motor vessel in the Coho Hoho rally, and we were followed closely by Friday, a small 27-foot sailboat. Within minutes we lost sight of both vessels in the dense fog and big waves. Our bow and its two anchors would plunge under the approaching wave and our boat would literally shudder, then climb up to the top of the wave, then plunge down the backside into the trough and rise up and do it all over again, wave after wave. Fortunately, we were able to take these huge waves straight on so we only pitched up and down, with minimal side-to-side rolling. (Rolling is what makes most people queasy.) Thankfully, once we turned the corner, the wave height lessened. This was a good thing, but now things got really rolly due to the fact that the waves were hitting us more broadside off the stern. I have since talked to other folks in our rally and many of them fed the fishes repeatedly so I feel pretty good about my performance in that regard. Of course, Brad never experienced any seasickness.

I realized one good thing about sailing/motoring at night: You can't see a damned thing, so there is nothing to be scared about! (If you can't see the waves or the crab pot floats, then they aren't there, right???) Also, it is amazing to learn that even though you are dog-tired and feeling punch-drunk, you can still rise to the challenge and keep awake during your 4-hour night watch. Why? Because your life depends upon it! (I can relate it to mountaineering. Even when you are so tired you can barely push on for the summit, you do. You just do.) If you think I am being melodramatic, please consider some of the close encounters we have already had. Commercial fishing vessels and their nets are a huge problem. They do NOT alter their course for you. They expect YOU to avoid them. Period. And most of them don't equip their boats with AIS (a type of computerized position reporting system) or radar reflectors. This means you can't see their boats on AIS or on radar. Their lights are all we have to go on. In the fog, we can't see their lights until we are almost upon them. We can't tell which direction they are traveling nor how fast they are going nor how long their nets are. (Yes, they do have port and starboard lights but that only tells you which way their bow is pointed, and only roughly so. The fog can truly play tricks on you!) So far, we have missed crab pot floats by mere inches and fishing nets and a few fishing boats by just 20-40 feet. (Again, it's hard to tell distances exactly in the fog.) So far, no containers. Whoopee!

Another freaky thing about traveling at night is the sea gulls that love to play chicken with our boat by flying across it just forward of the mast. Just imagine yourself staring ahead into total darkness, almost hypnotized by the monotony of it all, then whammo! You see a flash of white appear from left to right and disappear in a fraction of a second as they zoom past the steaming light attached to the front of the mast. The first couple of times it happened it scared the bajeebers out of me! Once I realized what it was, it was actually comforting in a way. Like moths, they too appear to be attracted to the light.

We did have some white-sided dolphins swim along with us for about five minutes while they enjoyed playing in our bow wake one night at dusk. Since it was so cold and rough, we took no pictures or videos. I am hoping to capture this once we get further south where it is warm enough and calm enough to risk life and limb trying to get video.

Note: I considered calling this piece "Brad's Best Vacation is My Worst Nightmare!" but that would be (a) plagiarizing a bumper sticker that our friend Ron Sheats used to have on his car and (b) it would be a tad dishonest. This trip hasn't quite reached nightmare status, although at times I was plenty scared. I just love the humor of it because as with mountaineering, there are folks who think we are crazy wanting to do such a thing. So it is with sailing.