Fear of Bridges

I have a fear of bridges. Not going over them, not looking at them, just going under them. There's that point where I've read the chart 18 times and it says clearly 74' of clearance. I've looked at my boat's 25' mast and calculated 4' of freeboard up to the step. Yes, I should clear. But, when I'm directly under the bridge, looking up, it looks like I'm clearing by 4 inches. I hate that.

This guy (thanks sfsailing list on yahoo) has no fear of bridges.

Big Fast Boats

I have no idea why this is so exciting to me. My 22 foot sailboat topped out at 7 knots once and that was only with a hell of a current assist. But the Transatlantic Challenge is starting May 21 and features two bad ass maxi-yachts, the Mari-Cha IV and Maximus. These two boats are ridiculously fast. Maximus claims to have gone 27 knots in an 18 knot breeze while Mari-Cha IV owns the current transatlantic record.

I have to root for the Mari-Cha IV though. First reason, their PR firm sent Camille an autographed photo of the MC4 when I sent them the picture below.


Second, the ridiculously wealthy owner is named Bob Miller. My boss is named Bob Miller. Look here for insightful updates like this one once the race starts.

And don't even get me started on the possibility of BMW/Oracle racing winning the America's Cup and me getting to race Polka Dot against those beasts in 2011 on San Francisco Bay.

Why I now need a Camera Phone

I usually resist seemingly useless expensive technology. Like the cameraphone, rollerskate-tennis shoe combos, and HDTV. Until they start saving lives.

You can bet this fellow is glad he had his cameraphone available. But you have to think that it was sort of a "snuff" picture. He engages in mortal combat with a spider, seemingly kills it, then snaps a picture. Why not mount the damned thing on his mantle?

Apparent v. True Wind Teaser from Scuttlebutt

Question
Peter Barrett used to ask an interesting question on sailing in current: "Two one design sailors belong to a yacht club on a river which has a current of 3 knots, but unfortunately they work opposite shifts so cannot race to settle who is faster? They agree to time how long it takes them to reach a bridge which is 2 miles downstream, the longer time buys the other a beer. The first sailor finds that on his day, the yacht club flag is limp, i.e. there is absolutely no wind. Next day the second sailor comes down and is happy to find a nice 3 knot wind in the downstream direction. Which sailor wins the bet?"

Answer
The first sailor rows his boat out to the middle of the river and starts to drift downstream at 3 knots whereupon he has a 3 knot headwind. He can beat against this headwind and so sail towards the bridge faster than a stick in the water. When the second sailor starts to drift downstream at 3 knots the 3 knot wind relative to the shore now becomes a flat calm relative to the water, so all he can do is drift at the same speed as the stick in the water. Thus contrary to common sense, (which Einstein defined as the prejudices we acquire before the age of 16) the flat calm day is better and the first sailor wins. - Peter Hinrichsen

Operation Barbeque Freedom

I accomplished Phase 1 of the Liberation of the BBQ Secret last night, attending a clandestine meeting of "cooks" to determine the schedule and responsibilities for the "fund-raiser". I was given access to an overview of the BBQ Operation, hearing some indirect heating secrets, the length of time for searing, some moisture control techniques, and finally the optimal wood for "smoking".

I was told that the "sauce" secrets will not be divulged but I believe I will learn enough during the actual operation about the cooking aspects that I may be able to get within a few degrees of tastiness and succulence that my lack of the official "sauce" will be acceptable.

I have built my duffel-bag-cam and am ready to liberate these secrets for the betterment of mankind. Updates after the "fund-raiser".

Separation of Church and State

OK, it's opening day on the bay, right? Should be a day to think about nothing more than, "am I going to run into that tanker if I stay on this course" or "why is there water in the cockpit, isn't it supposed to drain somewhere?". But I got dragged into a much darker, deeper train of thought as I rounded Angel Island. I had pulled into the line of boats heading SW up Racoon Strait to be blessed. The problem is, I didn't know much about this ceremony.

It's sponsored by the Corinthian Yacht Club so I expected some big fancy yacht to have some over the top rich guy in a cableknit sweater splashing us with a hose from his transom in an odd but potentially life-saving blessing ritual. Pulling out the glasses, I looked ahead but couldn't see anything resembling this big fancy yacht or an over the top rich guy. I just followed the line of boats. At one point, some guy pulled up next to a Coast Guard Cutter, and I thought, "now he's done it, that guy's getting pulled over for not wearing life vests, ha ha ha."

We get closer and it becomes apparent that the blessing is from the Coast Guard Cutter. Not so bad, better than getting a ticket. Finally, our turn and I come tearing alongside the Cutter at 2.4 Knots, quickly dropping the Jolly Rogers and putting up the Ensign. Suddenly, over the loudspeaker I hear, "Holy Holy Holy, Blessed be the Yachts on the Bay, blah blah God blah blah Lord blah blah may the Captain and Crew be safe blah blah blah amen."

I coughed up a hairball.

A Captain on the USCG Cutter Tern had blessed me not with some outlandish nautical chant but with some God something. I'm all for God, I like God, I believe in God. I just didn't expect any God chants coming from a Coast Guard boat my tax money had paid for. Now, I know this doesn't necessarily violate the 1st Amendment but it does break the spirit of separation of church and state.

Luckily we had a 15 knot Southwesterly to get my mind off this travesty and by the time I docked in the Marina of The People's Republic of Berkeley I was over it. But by then my blog had already written itself.

The Crew

The Tern

Brendhan is a car

Brendhan got left out of the conversation about cars 2+ years ago and I guess I feel guilty so I gave it some thought. My initial reaction was to blurt out, "You are obviously a BMW 750, sleek and sophisticated yet incredibly powerful under the hood." But that's not true. A BMW-guy is a bit of a phony, trying to be sporty despite the inability to hit a mid-range jumper and a fear of the blue slopes. That's why they play golf.

So, the best thing to do is define Brendhan. He's pretty put together, has a complicated history, and is frugal. He's honest and a good guy, meaning fairly accessible. He's successful and good with kids. That's definitely a high-end car, but not a BMW. I'd put it in the luxury ranks, Lexus, Mercedes, Cadillac. I'll rule out Lexus because I don't like Lexuses and I like Brendhan. Cadillac is wrong because he's not that old. And I'll settle on Mercedes because I know the Mercedes line pretty well.

Let's rule things out first. He is not "sporty" so CL and SL are out the window. {Brendhan, don't worry, this doesn't mean you can't play sports, it means you're not a Marina dude.} C-class is for chumps who should have bought a high-end Volkswagon. The Mercedes M-class sucks so that's out.

This leaves E and S. Let's tackle engine size first. We already agreed that he's frugal so he'd definitely be the 6 cylinder 350. So, is he luxurious like the S or cutting edge like the E? I had an S-class and it had so many features that there was always something getting ready to break; this sounds good since Brendhan is definitely complicated. But he was a punk rocker and no self-respecting Punk-turned-VP would drive the top-end luxury car; that's like living on Country Club Lane or Scenic Drive, it's just something you would never put on your return address label. If we settle on him being the less fancy of the two classes, he might need to compensate by being a bigger engine so we'll consider the 500.

So, Brendhan is a Mercedes Benz E350 possibly upgrading to the E500. This is not definitive so comments are open.

Opening Day on the Bay

What are you doing this Sunday? It's Opening Day, more important than the State of the Union, more fun than Arbor Day, more exclusive than The Daytona 500. The reason: The Blessing of the Fleet. The Corinthian Yacht Club sponsors this parade followed by a Parade of Boats along the SF Waterline.


Last year there was absolutely no wind so we motored out into the middle of the bay, raised the sails, started eating lunch, lowered the sails, finished eating lunch, then just drifted around somewhat bored. The sandwiches were great; I had a turkey and havarti from Molly Stones in Sausalito. I don't know what Bob had. The only bright spot was getting to glare at some rich dude on a 44 foot sloop motor by us while we were "sailing". This guy was a frickin' caricature, with the nautical sweater tied around his neck, martini glass in one hand, brand new topsiders, absolutely no idea that we had right of way since we were "sailing". So, yes, I was jealous of his boat.

This year has more wind in the forecast so here's what's in store: motor out around 10AM, dodge raindrops (Polka Dot is very maneuverable), get blessed for the season, raise sail on the other side of Angel Island as the seabreeze picks up and make a mad downwind dash for Berkeley.

If you're reading this blog, you're probably a friend of mine (or at least on crapola) so consider this an invite. If you're not in the Bay Area....Ha Ha.

Kids Today....it's sad

Today's kids just don't get out enough, wasting away watching video games. How can they ever develop hand-eye coordination, exercise their flabby little muscles, or build self esteem? Check out this sad little guy at the video arcade (warning: Windows Media Player required).

Click here for the movie. Thanks to Engadget for the link.

Top of the Mountain

The other day, Camille decided to throw a curveball into our usual conversations of which is prettier, pink or purple? She asked me, rhetorically, if God made everything. "Yes he did, sweetie" was the omniscient parental reply. Knowing she had me in a corner, she then brought the high heat, "who made God then?".

I immediately coughed up a hair ball.

The only thing I could come up with was to congratulate her for encountering her first true paradox, that there was no answer to that. She posited that it might be Mr. Nobody (the guy who is routinely faulted for most of what goes wrong around her), but I know that secretly she was seething that she got a Dad whose only sage advice is "don't commit crimes when commiting crimes."

I mentioned that to her and we fell into a very philosophical silence.

Regarding Mohawks and the Mouths of babes

Driving home from Fentons, we passed a punkrocker sporting a mohawk. Camille (Age 4) and Rebecca (Age 5) were fascinated.

Camille: how'd he do that?
Heidi: he probably uses lots of hair product.
Rebecca: and you have to have hair.
Heidi: so your dad probably couldn't do that
Camille: and neither could Tim.

The Problems that Sailors Face

I keep a very tidy boat; she's washed down after every sail, I scrub down routinely, keep my lines coiled nicely, and have a fairly new yellow mainsail cover that is taut and well-fitted. I sail at least every couple of weeks so the boat stays clean. I like it that way.

A few months ago, I noticed a problem. I was going out for a sail and the cockpit was covered in hay. Now, I don't live in Kansas, this is a very odd thing. A bit of research and I noticed that the marina was growing some groundcover and had scattered hay to promote growth. No reason why only my cockpit was covered in hay, but Berkeley has some strange wind patterns.

Didn't think anything of it, the next couple of times out, no problems, just a bit of hay, nothing to concern myself with.

Three weeks ago, I'm taking my daughter out; I'm rolling up the sailcover and a frickin' nest falls on her head! Some birds were nesting in my sailcover. Now, that was cute. A great chance to educate my 4 year old about birds and nests. I placed it neatly on the dock in hope that the birds wouldn't lose their hard earned nest.

Three or four days later, I'm down at the boat doing some work and the cockpit is again covered in hay. What the &$#!? The birds were trying it again! This time, I angrily pulled the offending barley out of my sailcover and threw it in the water, glaring at the skies in hopes that the birds would know that I was pissed. That didn't work: while I was on the boat, these two chirpy little finches kept flying around the boat heckling me. Like I was on their boat.

Here's what I needed to do, get one of those plastic owls. No, that's expensive. Put mylar strips up like the vintners do. No, that's ugly. Continue glaring at them. No, I had to go home some time. So, I just tried tightening the sailcover.

Didn't work. More hay. More nest. Even worse, my dockmate (that's like a neighbor on land), told me that she was getting a good laugh from the cute little birds. I was now going down to the boat daily to de-nest the boat. There are approximately four hundred million abandoned boats in the Berkeley Marina and these little beasts continued to choose my boat as their home.

Nothing I have tried worked. So, I go down to the boat yesterday for some more futile extermination. As I walk along the dock, I see that my sailcover is unsnapped at the end where the birds live. DAMN, they have figured out the snaps; next they'll pick my lock and move into the vee-berth. I walk up to the boat and there's only one piece of hay. They're gone. Through no fault of my own.

The bad news....I keep a tidy boat and couldn't resist snapping up the birds home nice and neat as I left.

Where's that Tug?

Chrisu and I went sailing on Saturday. Notice how nautical Chrisu is, pointing at some distant landmark, not noticing the Gigantic Tugboat that almost ran us down. Also notice the high price I put on safety, those are high-end auto-inflating lifejackets. No expense is spared for my crew!