By Tony Johnson
If you’re planning to anchor overnight somewhere, consider doing so on a full moon. A lovely location for this is China Camp where you can see both the sun setting and the moon rising. You do know, don’t you, that a full moon always rises just when the sun sets?
By Tradewinds Instructor Tony Johnson
In this world of few certainties, there is one thing that I am certain of: I am not certain how the tides work. Oh, it’s the moon’s gravity, and I think the sun is involved. Well, then, how is it that on a new moon, when the sun and the moon are both on the same side of the earth, we still have two tides? Shouldn’t there be just one big one?
I was reminded of these puzzles recently because of what the news media were calling “King Tides.” This isn’t official terminology from NOAA; it’s used to sensationalize the highest tides of the year. The media routinely explained that these tides occur “when the sun, moon, and earth are in alignment.” But wait just a durned minute. Doesn’t that happen twice in every single month, in which case they are just plain old “spring” tides? How do these get the royal treatment if they’re no different from the commoners?
King Tides occur near perihelion, when the earth is closest—not by all that much—to the sun. Perihelion occurred on January 4. If it got real close, you’d think we’d feel pretty warm. But no, it happens in winter. The highest tide this season was 7.18 feet on December 13, 2012 on a new moon.
However, six months later, we again have very high tides, when the earth is at aphelion, its farthest from the sun, and paradoxically, it is hot. On July 21, on a full moon, the predicted tide is 7.07 feet, barely lower than the December tide. So our distance from the sun isn’t the only factor. Since this is a yearly cycle, it is the result of the sun’s influence, not the moon’s monthly pattern. It turns out the latitude of the sun is as important as its distance, and at our summer solstice the sun’s over the northern hemisphere. This makes up for the greater distance and generates our big summer tides. In Australia, where, as best I can figure, The “King” tides got their name, summer solstice occurs during perihelion, meaning latitude and distance are both at their peak influence. So if you want to experience the whole shebang, you’ll have to go down under.
But it’s nowhere near this simple. Again, of this I’m certain. We used three tidal constituents for this analysis. NOAA uses 37, but the total number is 396.
By Tradewinds Instructor Tony Johnson
Even though the term may not be common up here in the land of the America’s Cup, I’ve heard headsails called “headies” by those sailors from down under who seem to keep winning everything. There sure are a lot of names that these sails are known by, compared to that workhorse piece of canvas aboard, the mainsail. A small change in a headsail can make a tremendous difference in a boat’s performance, especially upwind, so it’s not surprising that sailors are a bit obsessed with them. Here are a few names you may have heard: Yankee, drifter, windseeker, #4, genoa, ghoster, blade, 135%, storm jib, working jib, reacher, screecher, blooper, big boy, gennaker, jib top, staysail, gollywhomper, code zero, spinnaker, asymmetric spinnaker, cruising ‘chute.
The term “headsail” refers to any sail set foreward of the forewardmost mast. The next most general term is “jib.” According to the PHRF rules, a jib is “any sail, other than a spinnaker, that is to be set in the fore triangle.” (“Other than a spinnaker” would seem to be an unnecessary refinement, since the spinnaker is flown outside of the fore triangle.) So a spinnaker is a headsail but not a jib.
All genoas are jibs, but not all jibs are genoas. A genoa is an overlapping headsail, where the jib may or may not be. The overlap referred to is that of the clew of the genoa, which overlaps the luff of the mainsail. A more specific way to describe the size of any jib is by a percentage, e.g., 135%. This number is the ratio between the LP of the headsail and “J.” The LP, or longest perpendicular, is the length of a line through the clew, perpendicular to the luff. “J” is the distance between the pin of the forestay and the mast.
Another common way of referring to headsail size is by numbers: #1 would be the largest jib on the boat, #2 a little smaller, etc. For spinnakers, the numbering may be S1, S2, or for asymmetrical spinnakers, A1 and A2. This system is relative to the sail inventory on a particular boat, so your #1 could be another boat’s #2.
The speed of the America’s Cup catamarans have made traditional spinnakers irrelevant and all headsails have lost their former pre-eminence to the wing. Us commoners can still have our blades and Yankees, however, until we go that fast.
By Tradewinds Member Ernie G.
For my 50th birthday, my wife cooked up the idea of chartering in the blue waters of the Mediterranean, on the Turkish coast. We made it an extended family plan, with my father and stepmother, and my brother and sister-in-law and my two teenage nephews, plus our own two pre-teen kids. Couldn’t have done it without Brandy’s and Matt’s help this year in getting my bareboat and extra docking lessons.
To accommodate this group of 10, we chartered two boats—one bare for me to skipper and one with a hired skipper.
Here’s the route:
I won’t go day-by-day. We spent six days hopping from harbor-to-harbor, mostly spending the night at docks attached to restaurants. We spent one night at anchor in a long inlet. The food was good. The water was warm enough to swim and clear enough to see your anchor chain on the bottom.
The sailing highlight for me was learning to med moor. Some places had “lazy lines” so we could leave our anchor in the locker. Others were traditional med moors. Here are some photos:
One of our two boats. This was a Jeanneau Sun Odyssey.
The boat I skippered, a Bavaria 38. Typical med mooring posture:
(note from Matt – don’t try this on a boat with separate throttle/transmission controls!)
A typical restaurant dock. This one in a remote harbor, Dirsek. Taken from my boat while I’m backing in to med moor right next to these other boats. Americans would naturally try to dock in the middle of the big open space. That’s not allowed in the Med. They need all that space for more boats.
Here I am med mooring before I figured out that it is easier to stand behind on the forward side of the wheel. Really, I didn’t figure it out. Somebody told me.
The other crew watching me approach. Do they look nervous?
My kids hiking with the goats above the quay, looking down at our boats.
The kids were mostly into warm water and hanging out at the dock–
View from the goat hill in Dirsek
Moonrise in Bozukalle (Loryma)
– Advanced Coastal Cruising class (ASA 106), June 22 – 24, 2012, by Brad Call
On Friday morning I met my instructor, Bill Yawn and my two fellow students, Mary Ann Paulazzo and Daniel Merle. Bill is a long time instructor at Tradewinds and he also serves in the Coast Guard Auxiliary. He mentioned that participation in the CG auxiliary comes with many beneficial free training opportunities. He was certainly a wealth of nautical information! Mary Ann Paulazzo and her husband Cliff own a nicely equipped cruising yacht named “Carola” (Young Sun 37). She and her husband hope to “dip their toe” into the cruising world this August with a trip down to the Channel Islands, a 3 week journey there and back. Daniel Merle and his wife own a Leopard 46 catamaran that they have placed in charter with Moorings in Mexico. Their boat is named “Balajan” which is “my little child in Armenian. One of the benefits of placing a boat in charter with Moorings is the ability to use other Moorings boats around the world. They recently took advantage of this benefit and took friends to sail off the Croatian coast.
After meeting each other, Bill had us haul our gear and food down to the boat for the checkout. For this class we were using the club’s Bavaria 42 named “My Density.” The name has an interesting origin that involves the owners meeting in a chemistry class during college. In any event, the Bavaria 42 is a very nice boat. It has a master suite with head forward. There are two aft cabins, a galley, head, and large dining area. The cockpit is quite spacious and it has dual helm stations. It is powered by a Volvo diesel with a sail drive instead of the typical drive shaft and propeller. For this class a large emergency raft occupied the after part of the cockpit.
We spent about 3 hours checking over the boat, filling the tank with fresh water, and stowing our gear. Bill briefed us on our itinerary and how he would conduct the class. Each student would spend one hour as helmsman, then crewperson, and finally as navigator. This rotation continued throughout the class. We were finally on our way out to sea a little after noon. The weather was unusually mild for this time of the year. During the week leading up to the course Bill had us checking on the weather, swells, and waves. It was clear from the forecasts that a low-pressure system would clear the area on Thursday, leaving calm conditions off the central California coast for the weekend. This in fact was what we experienced. The winds were light on Friday and coming from the southwest.
Bill’s plan was for us to travel from San Francisco to Half Moon Bay on Day 1. Day 2 would take us north, past the Farallon Islands and up to Drakes Bay. On Day 3 we would return home and take the test to finish up the class. The southwest wind direction was not optimum for our Day 1 course, so we motored out to R “8” in the Main Ship Channel and turned south. We set sail and tacked back and forth as we proceeded south. Occasionally we passed crab pot buoys and we kept a sharp lookout to avoid them. The visibility was exceptionally clear and we were able to see many San Francisco landmarks (Golden Gate Bridge Towers, TV tower, etc.) up to the point at which we turned southeast towards Half Moon Bay. Point San Pedro, Devils Slide, and Point Montara were all clearly visible. Bill mentioned the dangerous reefs between Point San Pedro and Pillar Point. I used my hand compass to practice taking bearings on prominent landmarks. There were many sea birds on the water as well as an occasional dolphin. We arrived at buoy RW “PP” off Half Moon Bay at around 6 pm and used the VHF radio to contact the Pillar Point Marina (channel 74) and request a slip for the night. The Harbor Master assigned us slip “H45.” We eventually paid about $36 for the slip and we prepared our dinner aboard. It was clear that we had brought a lot of food for the class and as a result we dined well throughout the trip. The Pillar Point Harbor is a busy commercial fishing port.
The next morning Bill had us awake and ready to depart Pillar Point Marina at 7 am. After passing buoy RW “PP”, we set course for the Farallon Islands (290 magnetic). The weather was exceptionally mild with light wind coming from the northwest. Once again the wind direction was not conducive to our plans, so we motored. As we proceeded northwestwards, we began to see whales about a mile to the west. They could be seen “blowing” as they came up for air and occasionally a tail could be seen. At around 9 am I suddenly saw two whales about 75 yards to port. Their large mottled gray backs seemed close enough to touch! Not wanting to provoke the whales we immediately adjusted course to the east and eventually turned back to our original course. That was our closest encounter with those majestic animals.
At 11:30 am we arrived at the Southeast Farallon Island, the site of the “Low Speed Chase” accident on April 14. It was sobering to see the area where 5 sailors had died during the race. It is a very remote and desolate island, the abode of seabirds and marine mammals. Many small fishing boats were visible, some taking sport fishermen out for the day.
After passing the Farallon Islands we turned to course 350 magnetic and arrived at Drakes Bay around 3 pm. We anchored 100 yards WNW from a Coast Guard mooring ball and discussed various nautical topics and rested until it was time for dinner. We also watched (and listened to) the Elephant Seals that were lying on the shore west of us. After eating we rested until dark, and then raised anchor to begin our night man-overboard drills. While recovering the anchor we discovered that the rode was fouled with kelp. The resulting “battle of the kelp” went on for about 30 minutes. The tenacious plant did not want to surrender its grip on the rode.
Once free of the kelp we motored out to the middle of Drakes Bay, set sail in the light breeze, and preceded to conduct our drills. We were unable to use our normal points of reference in the dark bay, so Bill advised us to trust the feeling of the breeze on our face to orient ourselves. This worked surprisingly well and soon we were all successfully executing the “figure 8” man-overboard recovery technique in total darkness. Towards the end of the drills our man overboard marker float came apart and we performed some rapid sail and motoring permutations to recover the remains from the water before losing it in the darkness. After completing the drills we motored back to our anchorage, deployed the anchor, and turned-in for the night. The stars were very vivid in the darkness, illuminated only by a waxing crescent Moon. However the clarity was such that we could see a faint glow coming from the San Francisco neighborhoods 25 miles away that lie along the Pacific coast. It was a very special feeling to experience this portion of the coast in good weather.
The next day we were once again up early, had our breakfast, and departed for San Francisco. Drakes Bay was very calm and tranquil in the cool clear morning air and I wish we could have lingered longer. But it was time to return to clean the boat and take our test. There was not a breath of wind, so once again we were forced to motor. We had a wonderful view of the Marin coastline as we proceeded south. Bill showed us how to use the radar and we could see many fishing boats and the occasional freighter in the area. There are dangerous reefs along this section of the coast, the Duxbury Reef lying off Bolinas being only one example. We entered the Bonita Channel at buoy G “1DR” and proceeded southeast following a series of buoys until we rounded Point Bonita, reentered the Main Ship Channel and headed east to the Golden Gate Bridge. We had a quick lunch while motoring back to Richmond Marina and arrived around 12 pm. After unloading our gear and cleaning the boat we took our exams. All three of us successfully passed the rather difficult exam. This brought to a close a very challenging but rewarding 3 days on the water. Bill is a very knowledgeable and supportive instructor and he helped all of us to get the most out of the experience and to become better and safer sailors. I highly recommend the class.
You will find information about trucking law in Baton Rouge and the people to turn to for legal advice on road accidents.
Hallelujah!
I have arrived, without any incident or drama at the finish. Tied to the doc at 1pm.
The weather yesterday and last night was very cooperative, still some lumpy seas, but good winds, so I made good progress.
Everyone always seems to want statistics from a trip like this, so here’s the final numbers:
Ambassador – Beneteau 51.5, Buenos Aires to San Francisco 2012
Facts about this voyage:
8,820 Nautical Miles sailed on this journey (that’s 10,150 regular miles or 16,335 kilometers)
54 Number of Days underway
82 Degrees of latitude sailed
111 Degrees of longitude sailed (1/3 of the planet)
39 Number of days sailing in the tropics
6.80 Average speed in knots for entire voyage
100 Percent of days with sunshine
71 Ounces of bottled water I consumed on a daily average for cooking and drinking
2 Ounces of alcohol consumed during the entire voyage (rum with Neptune at the equator)
0 Number of days I wore foulies
13 Percentage of days sailing upwind
232 Most nautical miles sailed in a 24-hour period
94 Least nautical miles sailed in a 24-hour period
21 Number of countries whose waters I sailed in
3 Number of oceans I sailed in (South Atlantic, North Atlantic, North Pacific- plus Caribbean Sea)
1 Number of fresh water lakes I sailed in (Gatun Lake in Panama- part of the canal)
-David Kory
I’m getting close, and counting down the hours now, instead of days or weeks. If all goes well, I could arrive into Brickyard Cove tomorrow (Monday) evening. Maybe Monday afternoon, or maybe early Tuesday morning, but it is definitely close.
My good fortune seems to be holding, as I had a quick transit of the Southern California bight, enjoying the south and southwest winds and flat seas, and rounded Point Conception at midnight last night along with a school of dolphins. The gale had stopped blowing, so I have been continuing northwest up the coast, and am currently near Morro Bay.
The seas remain very large and sloppy as a result of the gales, with 9-foot swells and mixed windwaves, making for a very rocky and rolly ride. But its just rock and roll, and not slamming, so I am not complaining, and as the winds are just 10 knots, little by little conditions are improving.
The weather is clear and sunny, but last night was the coldest of the entire voyage so far, in the low 50’s. Brrr. But as I only expect one more night at sea, I guess I can deal with it.
My focus now is on finishing the remaining day and a half or so, or constantly hoping nothing breaks down at the last minute.
6/10 8am 35.10N 120.57W 8616nm gone, 187nm to go
I’m getting close, and counting down the hours now, instead of days or weeks. If all goes well, I could arrive into Brickyard Cove tomorrow (Monday) evening. Maybe Monday afternoon, or maybe early Tuesday morning, but it is definitely close.
My good fortune seems to be holding, as I had a quick transit of the Southern California bight, enjoying the south and southwest winds and flat seas, and rounded Point Conception at midnight last night along with a school of dolphins. The gale had stopped blowing, so I have been continuing northwest up the coast, and am currently near Morro Bay.
The seas remain very large and sloppy as a result of the gales, with 9-foot swells and mixed windwaves, making for a very rocky and rolly ride. But its just rock and roll, and not slamming, so I am not complaining, and as the winds are just 10 knots, little by little conditions are improving.
The weather is clear and sunny, but last night was the coldest of the entire voyage so far, in the low 50’s. Brrr. But as I only expect one more night at sea, I guess I can deal with it.
My focus now is on finishing the remaining day and a half or so, or constantly hoping nothing breaks down at the last minute.
6/10 8am 35.10N 120.57W 8616nm gone, 187nm to go
It wasn’t as bad as the freeways, but there sure were a lot of boats out last night between San Diego and Catalina Island. Tankers and freighters going in and out of the Port of Los Angeles, tugs towing barge trains, other sailboats, fishing boats, coast guard boats, a navy frigate and an aircraft carrier. And those are just the ones I had to cross. Not a very restful night…
As you’ve guessed by now, I crossed into the United States yesterday evening, after latching onto that low pressure system I mentioned and making great time. It gave me S – SW winds (behind me, yay!) and flat seas, so I averaged 7.5 knots for the whole day, covering 181 miles- much better than expected. I passed very close to Avalon on Catalina Island early this morning, and it was difficult not to stop. I lived in Avalon once, and still love the place. But the weather says “Go!”, so that’s what I’m doing.
There has been a NW gale blowing off the central coast for the last few days, which would make huge winds and seas on my nose and not letting me go, but it is supposed to be done by tonight, take a few days off, then return on Wednesday. So that’s why I am going straight through, to sneak north during its days off. I will still have some winds against me at times, but it shouldn’t be more than 10 or 15 knots, which I can deal with. And the swells will likely be big, maybe 11-15 feet, but if the wind isn’t bad, its just like driving through the foothills, nice and gentle. We’ll see.
Hopefully there will be no bad surprises, I will continue making progress, and will arrive into Brickyard Cove on Tuesday.
6/9 8am 33.30N 118.32W 8449nm gone, 349nm to go
I’ve made it to the quiet zone, which is how I think of Southern California weather. Calm water, light winds, easy progress. Although I am still some 80 miles from the border, these are the conditions I am getting, and I am entirely happy with that.
The coastline down this way is like a big “J”, with Cedros island being the bottom tip of the J, and San Diego the top. I was happy to cross from Cedros over the mainland part of the J, as it meant I was far from land, hazards, shipping and most anything else, which meant I was finally able to get some decent rest.
I enjoyed few more dolphin visits, and a few late whales heading north, and some really spectacular jelly fish. The crowns were about 2 feet across, puffy and orange like a cloud, with 6 feet of thick fuzzy orange stringers hanging down. Beautiful to look at, but I wouldn’t want to swim into it.
I go in and out of adverse current, and had a few hours of big round 6-8 foot swells (from weather far, far away), making things a bit rolly, but on average making good progress. If all continues going well I should cross the border tonight, and take advantage of a small low pressure sitting just south of San Clemente island. This will generate light counter-clockwise winds through the whole Southern California region, which is perfect for me, as I will make a big counter-clockwise arc from San Diego to Point Conception. I may continue to get lucky, with light west winds to take me up the coast from there for a day or two, and could arrive into San Francisco Bay sometime on Tuesday. We’ll see…
6/8 8am 31.05N 116.38W 8268nm gone, 517nm to go
