Delivery Sail - Paul Bischof Part 3
	SoCal Delivery Sail – Part 3 “The Gale” If you haven’t already read parts 1 and 2, I highly encourage you to do so, if only so you can see how my luck had been going up until this point. If you’re short on time or simply impatient, here’s the synopsis: 1) buy neglected boat in San Pedro. 2) make many costly repairs. 3) fail to check fluids, leading to: 4) underway engine failure. 5) Set sail in zero wind. 6) Get towed to Oceanside dock. 7) Make more costly repairs. 8) Get underway in zero wind (yes, again), and finally 9) run agound. Twice. In the same spot. Sound like fun? Actually, it was. I love boats and all the problems they bring with them. I’m a glutton for this kind of punishment, mostly because it gives me the opportunity to “MacGyver” my way out of situations that most “normal” people never encounter in the first place. Anyway, we last left our adventurers in Mission Bay’s “Mariner’s Cove” on the morning of November 9th, where they had been anchored (ahem, sort of) since the previous night… I’d been up since 0130, standing anchor watch. Not much happened after the Vessel Assist incident with Mr. Hunter, and that finished up about 2 hours ago. The wind had been fluctuating between 20-30 knots for most of the night, and after sunrise it seemed to freshen a little more. I’ve been running the portable Honda generator for a while, and I’m on my second pot of coffee. (It’s just a little 4-cup maker.) It’s coming up on 0730, and I decide it’s time to wake the crew. After a hearty breakfast of eggs, potatoes, and some leftover chicken from dinner, we discuss the day’s plan. The consensus is that this will be an easy one; a simple 8-mile jaunt down to Point Loma, turn into the bay, and then some not-so quiet San Diego bay sailing until we get to the marina in Coronado. “Not so quiet” because San Diego Yacht Club is running the “Hot Rum I” race today, so we should have LOTS of company when we’re headed in. I’m still glancing at the wind indicator, and it’s steady around 25 knots. I decide to call out on the radio to see if I can find out how the conditions are “out there”. After being unable to reach any boats in the ocean, I call Mission Bay Lifeguard to see how things are looking from their perspective. The reply came with a notice that there was a small craft advisory in effect, winds of 25 knots, seas 6-8 feet. Hmmm. Some discussion with the crew ensued. The conditions they described weren’t THAT bad; I’d been in worse with my previous boat, a 30’ Ericson named “Tabu”. Still, I knew that being out in that wouldn’t be a whole lot of fun, especially on a south-bound reach. The crew (incidentally, the same person who was with me on Tabu) says “what the heck, let’s do it”. With that, we begin making preps to get underway. Breakfast dishes are washed, sail covers are removed, and the engine is warmed up. We weigh anchor and get underway at about 0900. After my SECOND pass at the exit channel, I’m a bit unsure that this is such a good idea. The west-facing channel entrance is causing those 6-8 footers to turn into 8-10 foot breaking surf IN THE CHANNEL. Right around the time I’m considering going around for a third pass at this freakish exit, I realize that I’m beyond the point of no return. With the seas in the channel the way they are, there’s no way I can safely turn around anymore. Out we go! I throttle up, and see that I’m making a good 4 knots against the swells. However, I’ve still got those breakers, and they’re approaching pretty quickly. I mentioned the point-of-no-return, right? Anyway, you’d be surprised how much of a 47-foot boat will fit into a 10-foot wave. By my calculations, it was about 1/3 of the boat completely enveloped in a moving wall of water. Quite the experience! Anyway, after the boat duck-dived through 2 or three of those (and catching a glimpse of the people standing on the breakwater cringing with each hit), we were through. I had thought it would be a bit smoother once we cleared the break wall… not so. The seas were 10-12 feet, and the wind was a steady 35-37 knots. I thought about letting the Lifeguards know they should update their “Small Craft Advisory” to a GALE WARNING, but they sounded like the types who wouldn’t care much. These were surfers, not boat people. With the seas heaped up as they were, I knew there wasn’t a chance of me making a straight shot to Point Loma… that would put the seas on the beam, and I just wasn’t ready to try THAT in the new boat. A few quick calculations later, I figured that if we put the seas 20 degrees on the starboard bow, and went 12 miles out, we’d be on an easy 12-mile run back into the safety of San Diego. With my average crashing-jolting-bouncing-rolling speed of about 3 knots, we had a solid 4 hours of this to endure. Luckily, the monotony was broken by a surprise rogue wave that came directly from the beam! We rolled about 40 degrees, lost the microwave as it made its suicidal leap to the cabin floor, and then resumed pounding. Woah. THAT was freaky. Anyway, with the wind howling and my arms getting wrecked from all the wheel-wrenching, there wasn’t much to do but evaluate the situation. Here’s what I came up with for lessons learned at the time: 1) ALWAYS secure for sea, and double check that nothing (especially HEAVY things) will move. It was pure carelessness that caused the microwave to go flying. Luckily, no one was in the cabin when it let go. 2) Trust your gut. Despite my initial misgivings about getting underway, I talked myself into heading to sea in questionable conditions. Yes, the Coast Guard COULD have been available to help. However, what if something had gone amiss while I was surrounded by the break walls with 10 foot surf? I don’t think they’re THAT fast at responding. 3) Drink lots of water, even when you’re wet. I was very thankful to have a steady supply of drinking water while I was on the helm. Anyway, after 5 hours of pounding into the stuff, I finally hit my turn-around point. I watched the swells for about 5 minutes, and carefully timed my turn so I’d be in the bottom of the trough (and theoretically most protected). The turn went smoothly, and the boat pointed smartly toward Point Loma. After 5 hours of 2.5 knots or so, we were ecstatic to see the speed log registering about 8 knots as we headed for the Bay. Of course, the occasional 11-knot “surf” down the front of those swells was quite exhilarating, and overall it was a refreshing run back to the barn. As good as this high-speed run feels, I’m thinking I might want to do this again sometime… wait, maybe not. :) Watch the weather, stay smart, and sail safe. See you out there! / /