Tradewinds Sailing Blog

After 40,000 sea miles including a circumnavigation, some might picture me as an old salt who loves the sea. It’s a good guess, as I’m for sure old. But I have little affection for the sea. One wants one’s love to be, if not reciprocal, at least directed towards something that is not a bipolar psychopath. On some days, the sea is just lovely, while on others, it may run you down and leave you maimed or dead without so much as a backward glance. A shooting star is pretty too—until it lands on you—and just like that asteroid, the next gale might have your number. To give credit where it is due, the sea is an egalitarian destroyer, granting no preferential treatment due to your age, experience, race, gender, skill, country of origin, net worth, or affability. You have to admire that level of even-handedness.

The sea is also a bit of a creepy place, an environment our landsman’s evolution never prepared us for. On my first ocean passage, to Hawaii on Ted Stuart’s September Song, we were becalmed in the Pacific High and decided to take a swim. Everyone was having fun diving right in, but when I followed, I was immediately filled with a horror I could never have anticipated. I got back on the boat as fast as I could, and have never been in the ocean offshore again. Call me a silly coward, I’ve heard worse. At the beach, the water’s fine of course, but then, land is close by. Out there it’s around three miles down, incomprehensibly far away, and when you stare out underwater you don’t know whether you are seeing a hundred yards or three feet. I felt a visceral unease in its vastness. To make things worse, there are critters in that water that the most creative science fiction writer could never have imagined. Some are graceful, transparent fantasies that perform intricate light shows. Then there are those that are the stuff of nightmares. It’s more unexplored than the surface of the moon, and according to the National Ocean Service, 91 percent of the creatures living in the ocean have not yet been identified. Considering the strangeness of what we do know, that plays on the mind. There are animals who live contentedly where no light can reach, in pressure that would squash you to the size of a pea. Some have weird senses that enable them to perceive things you are blind to. This environment is where these alien beings are at home. What could they be thinking? Even now, it gives me shivers.

Yet I am fond of being at sea, the farther from shore the better.  Close in, your reveries must be interrupted by concerns about mundane issues, like hitting ships or land. Offshore, being at sea is gratifying on many levels, even putting aside the spectacular sunsets, sparkling clear starry nights, and infinite vistas of blue sky and thunderheads a hundred miles away. Out there, I am continuously reminded that every mile we travel is accomplished on the shoulders of the first sailors, giants lost to history. To these phantoms from ages past, we owe our ability to survive in this unfamiliar world where we were never meant to be. They went there first. I feel a fellowship with them, a bond, and immense gratitude for having been the beneficiary of their collective daring, perseverance, canniness, toil, and suffering. What a wild imagination our ancient forebears had, to sail out where there might be dragons! What recklessness!

Go to a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. You can picture yourself kayaking fifty yards from shore, but farther out, the horizon is something altogether different, the portal to a deep mystery. Now imagine that you’d never heard of anyone that had tried to get out there, or if they had, they were never seen again. This was the situation of the very first Polynesians. What gave them the audacity to reckon that unlike the others, they could travel beyond that line into the spooky unknown, beyond any hope of contacting the people who were dear to them, and survive?

It is a deep honor to sail in their wake.

I’m cutting back my teaching schedule, and thought it might be time to reminisce a bit about my experience at this club.

When I first came to Tradewinds over three decades ago, all I was looking for was another outdoor activity to go along with biking, backpacking, and skiing. But on the very first day, when my wonderful instructor, Ron Pook, asked the class what we envisioned as our future in sailing, I blurted out, “Maybe I’ll sail around the world.” I was shocked and mortified to hear what had just come out of my mouth; I had never considered something so adventurous and I didn’t know a bowline from a balloon. But about thirteen years later, I sent word to the folks who were following us by email that Terry Shrode and I had entered the San Francisco shipping channel, thereby crossing our outbound path and completing a circumnavigation. Ron got right back to me. He said he shed a tear upon reading it.

Sailing can of course be a weekend hobby, and it does a mighty fine job of getting rid of the cobwebs of everyday life. You must be tuned in to the boat, wind, and waves, leaving no room for the trivial concerns of landsmen. But unexpectedly, in my case sailing opened vistas that were not present in my consciousness even as daydreams. On that first day, baffled as the next student by the terminology and weird maneuvers, I was fascinated to observe Ron’s subtle understanding of the wind, current, and sails, which at that moment seemed quite like witchcraft. That day was a turning point in my life. Lao Tzu said, “a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” I had no way of knowing it at the time, but the step had just been taken.

I joined the club and went through the three-class package we still have, took the Coastal Piloting test, and then signed up for Advanced Coastal Cruising. On that adventure, instructor Craig Walker gave us only these seemingly simple instructions: sail us to Drake’s Bay. I had been offshore maybe once or twice whale watching, but being in charge of the boat and managing the course plotting and sail trim at sea with the other crew was an entirely new experience. Craig gave us little input, while keeping a close watch and guiding us through a few exercises, and we found our way up there, anchoring safely after a long day. We were all so exhilarated by what we’d just accomplished!

By this time I was spending so much time sailing, enabled by Tradewinds’ fleet membership program, that I had difficulty finding people to crew. Handling the office was a young woman named Natalie, who was quite hilarious, but when I told her of the problem she said I needed to meet Terry Shrode, and she wasn’t kidding. Terry was a member at about the same level as me, who also had run out of people to sail with. We instantly hit it off, and it turned out we had similar skills since we’d been through the same training; but more important than that, we had the same instincts on the boat. It also quickly became apparent that he was jolly good company, and one of the world’s really fine people. To this day, he remains my number one sailing buddy.

Day by day, he and I would try to push the envelope to see if this or that challenge could be accomplished, becoming increasingly confident in our skills and at the same time more aware of our limitations. I widened my experience a bit by racing dinghies for three years, and then bought my flush-deck Ericson 39. With that boat, Terry and I sailed many times to Drake’s Bay, and made two or three cruises to Tomales Bay, crossing the bar which can be deadly if not planned properly. These undertakings were not without incident, as we were always doing things we’d never attempted before. There was often a bit of trepidation involved, but every advance in your sailing skills is paid for with a bit of fear. Back on that first day with Ron, I was alarmed as everyone else the first time the boat heeled. Later, it was scary to handle a big boat in the harbor. But as Eleanor Roosevelt, not exactly a swashbuckling hero, said, “Do something that scares you every day.” We kept upping the ante. I sailed to Hawaii with Ted Stuart; here’s our departure, below, from Brickyard about 1992.

Terry and I did a trip from Puerto Rico to the Bahamas on instructor Bob Miller’s new boat, and did a delivery of Maverick from San Diego to its new home in San Francisco Bay. Of all the “incidents” we experienced, the most troubling for Terry and me was a dismasting 28 miles outside the Gate in 30 knots and 15-foot seas during the fatal 1999 Doublehanded Farallones Race. You can read about that here. It is the only time in all the hours I’ve spent on boats that, upon reflection, caused me  to wonder whether the adventure was worth the risk. As the Irish say, “Better to be a coward for a minute than dead for the rest of your life.”

Then one day I had an epiphany: There was literally nothing preventing us from sailing out the Golden Gate and heading straight for Polynesia. Of course it’s obvious to anyone just by looking at a map, but thinking you yourself could actually do it, for real, was a big psychological threshold to cross. There are no legal hurdles preventing this. If you want to sail there, there is no official department or office you have to register with, no test to pass, no ticket to buy, no license requirement. You don’t even have to call the Coast Guard on 16 and tell them you’re leaving. You just hoist the sails and go. When I suggested this to Terry, he was a bit taken aback, which was unusual for the dauntless Mr. Shrode, but he soon agreed. Now committed, we undertook about five years and 5,000 hours of boat modifications, research, and planning. Every little job was accompanied by the exciting feeling that the adventure had now begun. We sailed under the Bridge in March of 2001. You can read about it here or here.

I came back a more wary sailor than the guy that left; the sea will humble you if you have any sense at all. Terry and I were never paralyzed by fear during gales or even when the boat began flooding near the end of our Atlantic crossing. But afterwards, ironically when the situation has been resolved and the danger has passed, you have time to be afraid.

I resumed teaching at Tradewinds after I returned. The time I’ve spent with the club is now well over one third of my life. I have not taught anywhere else but can’t believe there could be a place with more kindness and collective sea wisdom than Tradewinds. This has been consistent from my first experience, even though the ownership and management has changed. When Kirk Valentine, the founder of Tradewinds, retired, and after a few years with David Kory at the helm, it was sold to Matt and Brandy and Brandy’s dad, Butch, I thought things might change. I was just a little concerned, since I liked Tradewinds just as it was, but I needn’t have worried. What I hadn’t expected was that they would make it better, which is what they did.

Although I’ve somewhat expanded my knowledge of boats and seamanship, I have left behind none of the fundamental, central techniques I was taught here, starting with Ron Pook. Teachers, members, and students been sources of support and advice, and have become lifelong friends. You learn a lot about someone when crewing together, and as hard as it may be to believe, I’ve yet to come up with a dud. To complete or enlarge the circle, one of my students has just emailed me from his boat in La Paz.

There is no way to repay, and no words sufficient to describe, my indebtedness to this club. It has been a great privilege to be here and an honor to have been counted among its staff.

In the situation shown in this photo, which vessel has the right-of-way and why?   Here at Tradewinds we focus on teaching new sailors how to cruise safely in the unique and challenging waters of the San Francisco Bay.  At the conclusion of our sailing courses you will know how to navigate safely and confidently with huge ocean going ships both inside and outside the bay.   While you might think you know who has the “stand on” and who has the “give way” rights, it will take a sharp eye to understand which of the ColREGS rules apply here.   Comment below and we will reveal the proper rule used in this condition.  – Jeff H.

Hi Matt and Brandy,

This is Jeff and Marcia Parten from On Three. We were members of the club for several years before we bought our own boat. We also had a slip on Dock D during Covid. We just wanted to drop a note to say we’ve ran into several Tradewinds members and alumni since we’ve left SF. Here is a picture of current Tradewinds members who we ran into in Ensenada Grande in the Sea of Cortez while kayaking around the anchorage 

Best wishes to you guys and thanks again for all you did for us!

Jeff and Marcia

Hey Brandy & Matt!

I hoisted the TWSC burgee on “Rover” (Valiant 42) after we anchored in Taioha’e Bay on Nuku Hiva in the Marquesa Islands after our 26-day passage from San Diego, covering 3,230nm.  We left San Diego on Saturday April 1 (yeah, I know, April Fools Day…)

Rover’s owner-captain is Eric Ahlvin from Seattle (Rover’s home port), and there were three other crew onboard, including me.  At age 73, I learned a lot about passage making and, candidly, about myself as well.  

Eric signed up his “Rover” in Andy Turpin’s Pacific Puddle Jump which made our preparations and arrival smoother.  The three-person passage crew left “Rover” at Nuku Hiva, but with fresh crew Eric will continue to cruise the South Pacific until reaching New Zealand by November.

I wanted both of you to know how excited I was to take my Tradewinds experiences across the Pacific!

All best wishes!                              – Peter

Hello Tradewinds family!

I had a great sailing day on the Concord yesterday, including my first ever while-still-moving boarding by the US Coast Guard!

I called it in to Tradewinds right after they transferred off and gave a brief summary to Virginia.

I included a copy of the Report of Boarding they gave to me with the checkout sheet.

Below is my summary of the boarding.

– We were on our way back to Tradewinds after lunch at Jack London Square.

– Under motor power, approaching Bay bridge from Oakland Inner Harbor. We were preparing to hoist sails after under crossing the Bay Bridge.

– US Coast Guard came aside us on starboard and said they would be boarding us for a routine safety inspection. 

– I took over helm and followed instructions of speed and heading. I told Liza and anyone below to come up, so they get no surprises.

– (2) Officers boarded, immediately counted life jackets and persons on board. I informed him it was a boat from the Tradewinds Sailing Club in Richmond. 

– I went with officer down into cabin as he asked to see various items:

– Boat registration, all fire extinguishers, sound signal (which was already hanging off pedestal) life ring or life sling. I showed him all items without hesitation and to his satisfaction.

– Head, and asked if the head switch was set to correct position. I told him it was set to tank. He asked how many, I told him one tank. He asked if we had a macerator, I told him on this boat yes.

– He asked if diesel or gas engine I said diesel.

– He looked around a bit and said thank you, we’re done here.

– He and the other officer asked for my ID, filed out the Report of Boarding and gave me a copy.

– They proceeded to de-board and left.

– Entire process took about 10 – 15 min.

If I forgot anything g I’ll let you know. Or if you have any questions or concerns, please let me know.

Quite the experience, but was glad and thankful with the training and checklists given by Tradewinds, I knew all I needed to know about the boat, where, and definitely what was minimum required safety.

Regards,

Ricky C.