Beaufort-Shmeaufort

My able bodied crew and I set out Saturday morning in light breezes with cloud cover, convinced that the sun would come out.  We had an actual destination (Sam’s in Tiburon) and as we were meeting Cara’s husband and child there for lunch, decided to get there in a hurry.

Turns out a lot of boats were trying to get places in a hurry.  There must have been 500 or so boats all starting various races out towards the gate.  We dodged through them (“Salmon coming through, upstream here we go”) and docked nicely at Sam’s where we were met by Noah-the-non-Sailor and Screamin’ Skye.

 

There is no cooler way to arrive at a bar than by sailboat.  Period.

The sun came out a bit, it was nicely warm, and the mimosa’s were splashing.  There’d been a bit of discussion about who was heading where (ie, was Cara going to jump ship, leaving me and Miles to sail back alone or not).  I decided that since the weather was so lovely and Miles is such great crew, we really didn’t need that third set of hands even though she’s great to have aboard.  So the happy family came down to introduce Screamin’ Skye to the boat and see us off, then Miles and I did a graceful dedocking (does anyone know the proper term?) and headed off to spin around Angel Island.

East of Angel Island there was, of course, no wind but eventually (with a kick from the motor) we got to the South end where I could see wind.  Oh boy, could I see wind.  Pretty soon, we were heeled over with the rail buried and a steady humming through the shrouds.  Its very intense, sailing like that.  The sensation is similar to when you are skiing and find yourself tilting over the edge of a precipice that you suspect to be beyond your skill level, but you continue down anyway.  With sailing, that on-edge fear may last for hours as you battle to keep on course.

Waves slapped over the side, we were drenched repeatedly, there were times when the boat was heeled so far over that we found ourselves basically standing upright across the seats.  Luckily, Miles was getting as much of a thrill out of it as I was – I guess being British he doesn’t mind the cold and wet.  Getting the jib down proved tricky, luckily the main was easier, and we arrived back at the dock a little after 5.  Put the boat away, decided that I was too tired to rinse the jib at the dock so bundled it up to bring it home to wash (more on that later), and went across the dock to Chris V.’s boat.

Chris and Ken were entertaining friends on the Sirena and told me they hadn’t gone out that day because, among other reasons, the weather report said 40 knot winds.  40 KNOT WINDS?!?!?  First time I go sailing without listening to the weather report first and I wind up in 40 knot winds.  What does that mean?  Here’s a little perspective, its something called the Beaufort Scale.  Basically, we were sailing in a Beaufort Scale 8 through a Moderate Gale.  Check out the Coarse Sailor’s Scale and the Cruising Yachtsman’s Scale.  Miles – were you experiencing fear tinged with terror?

Note to self:  Next time, listen to the weather report first.