Here is the overall goal:
Get Pearl off the dock all alone, and sail her out the Golden Gate. Catch a King Salmon, and know that it's a King and not a different species of salmon. Bring the salmon aboard the boat (this is one part I haven't accomplished yet) and kill it myself. Gut the salmon, put in a cooler of idea. Sail back into the bay, and dock Pearl alone. Call Tom and tell him I've got dinner.
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| Ling cod, a few years ago. I wasn't touching it. |
I've been working on the fishing part for years now, and this has involved a level of exposure therapy to salmon. Phobias are tough things to get over, but I think I've done it. This past summer I actually gutted a salmon, with the verbal guidance of Vince on the Miss Anita. He also talked me through the part about getting the fish on the boat, and setting up the rod holders correctly for that to happen easily.
As is evidence by the photos below, it wasn't easy getting over a phobia. Dead fish are not supposed to wiggle in your hands...
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| Alaska 2010 |
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| It moved in my hands! We both had the same expression. |
I was clearly ready, and headed towards the Golden Gate on the Thursday morning before Labor Day weekend. Jacklines rigged, harness and tether on, jib sheets led back to secondary winches, and the mainsheet led back to a primary winch, all was ready for easy and safe handling of the boat alone.
As I approached the Alcatraz, fog rolled in under the bridge. It looked like a Jack London novel, and I had never seen such heavy, dark fog on the bay. Radar on, chart plotter on, and I continued past the south tower of the bridge, listening to Vessel Traffic Service for ships transiting the Golden Gate. It was not easy, visibility was only a few boat lengths, and there were ships in both the inbound and outbound lanes. I had never understood why a boat would carry two radar systems, but now I get it: one for the "big" picture and larger ships in the distance, one for close quarters and smaller vessels nearby. You can't see both at the same time. Same thing with the chart plotter: you can't see the geography of the land and the smaller buoys/rocks etc. at the same time. And it's time to get an AIS (Automatic Identification System) for Pearl before I try this again.
There was a slightly bigger sailboat (Passport 40 - I saw it later in Half Moon Bay) ahead of me, and I followed closely enough to keep their white sail in sight most of the time, but they led me directly into the shipping lane. Lesson learned: do it right and do it yourself.
Once I got past Mile Rock, the fog let up just a bit and I was able to stay to the south of the shipping lane. Much safer! With the fog, there wasn't much wind, so I motor sailed most of the way south. This was a good thing, as radar and chart plotters are large drains on the battery system, and running the diesel kept the batteries charged. I didn't actually get into clear air and wind until I was a few miles above Half Moon Bay.
Everything (except the fog) went quite smoothly, and it was almost as if I had done the whole thing before. And I certainly had, many times in my mind, just not in reality. The only thing I hadn't foreseen was 20 knots of wind in the Half Moon Bay outer harbor, which made me really think through anchoring alone. In my daydream practicing, Half Moon Bay harbor had always been dead calm. But it wasn't difficult, it just meant judging the amount of distance the boat would blow backwards while I set the anchor, and it went without a hitch.
It was early afternoon when I finally got anchored, and I decided against inflating the dinghy and lowering the outboard. It seemed like a potentially dangerous thing to do with the wind blowing, and I didn't want to risk that with no one around me. So I poured a glass of wine and read about 1/3 of a novel in the cockpit of the boat, followed by an early dinner.
The next morning the anchor came up with an amazing amount of seaweed, quickly dispensed with by a rigging knife. I motor sailed again, passing some Berkeley Yacht Club as they sailed south for the holiday weekend.
The fog cleared some around Pacifica, enough for me to think about paying attention to fishing gear and not the radar. I set up my rod, but had a deep diver that I hadn't used before. Thank goodness for being able to tether a computer to a cell phone. I was able to access the information I needed on the internet, and proceeded to rig the fishing gear correctly. I crossed the Golden Gate, and headed up the Bonita Channel, along the Marin County coast. Unfortunately, the fishing boats were all coming back in, and I think they had caught all the fish. Nothing left for me. Next time.
I put away the rod, turned the boat around, and headed in the Golden Gate as the fog was clearing. The first day had been so tense and difficult because of heavy fog, but this was just heaven. I was quite used to being alone on the boat, and set the sails and the autopilot, hooked myself into the binnacle with my tether, and then perched on the rail of the boat, admiring the dolphins and birds around me while watching the bridge slowly approach. No recreational boats were out on the bay, but Luna Rossa, the Italian entry for the America's Cup, was out promenading along the city front. It was already out of the racing, having lost in the Louis Vuitton competition earlier. Still, it was lovely to watch it and so satisfying to feel safe and in control of my 37 foot sail boat.
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| Fog clearing, just a wisp over the Marin headlands. |
More single handing to come!!!!
