Larry Hoffman is the owner of Yukon Jack, a 52-ft Santa Cruz sloop berthed at Pier 40, who is giving BAADS a chance to participate in the Pacific Cup race from San Francisco to Hawaii in 1998. In January 1996, Larry offered BAADS members the opportunity to help crew the boat from San Francisco to San Diego, a delivery run planned for January 21 to 27 in preparation for the San Diego to Mazatlan race in early February. Four BAADS members each paid $295 for the privilege, 1/2 of the usual charter fee for this trip: Otis Phelps, Laurence Kornfield, Tom and Sue Fowle. Two other highly important people sailed with us: skipper Chris Jordan, a professional sailor based in SF, and first mate Roy Savage of Rifle, Colorado, who has sailed professionally in Greece, the Caribbean, and elsewhere.
We knew of the opportunity around the end of December, and hesitated making the decision to go or not. Neither of us had done more than an overnight sailing trip. Tom has participated in 2 Double-Handed Farallones Races, and we had gone on one Half Moon Bay cruise-in, as well as a Petaluma cruise-in and 2 Jazz Cups to Benicia. Weather and the level of danger on a January ocean were unknown factors for us. Sue quickly feels seasick if she goes below deck on ET or Dave Izant's Finesse. We had only sailed briefly on Yukon Jack on a nearly windless day. But we felt we would always regret it if we did not go, and the fact that Laurence would be going made us feel we would have a familiar friend and guide.
Sat Jan 20
Tom & Sue spent the night before the trip on Yukon Jack, to become more familiar with the boat and be ready for an early start. We had met skipper Chris Jordan the previous week, and were favorably impressed. He was young (28), and seemed thoughtfully responsible. Larry, his son Jr., Chris, and perhaps others loaded endless supplies on YJ, but were finally ready to prepare the sails for the trip.
The Main
Tom & Sue helped to insert battens into the main (full length, fastened with screws at the luff), and to insert the sail's sliders into the mast track. The huge, heavy main has 3 sets of reef points, with 2 aft reef lines, so they are attached for 1st & 2nd or 2nd & 3rd, depending on the expectation of need, and repositioned as necessary. The forward reef is handled with the single cunningham hook, which is moved for each reef change. Halyard and reef adjustments are made using winches and cleats at the base of the mast, necessitating going forward beyond the cockpit. The length between the reefs is about 8 feet, enormous compared to ET. There are 4 kringles (grommets for tying the middle of the sail down to the boom) for each reef. The mainsheet is led back through the dodger to a winch on the cabin top. The traveler lines are also led through the dodger, but proved difficult to uncleat from the cockpit. The mast is probably no thicker than ET's, but is about 65 ft high, and is supported not only by a hydraulically operated backstay, the usual shrouds and forestay, but also a baby stay running from the deck to a point near the spreaders, and most notably, running backstays which must be made very taut (using winches) on the windward side and eased on the leeward side when the boat is sailed close hauled or on a close reach, and must be adjusted as the boat is tacked. All this intermediate rigging is necessary to keep this thin mast properly curved at various points of sail as well as to provide necessary support. One begins to gain an idea of the stresses involved in a boat of this power when one looks at the main shrouds, they are 3/8ths inch stainless steel ROD!, not wire, but solid steel rod. Such materials seem unbreakable to normal human understanding, luckily in the conditions we met, and with proper handling by captain Chris, we did not find out otherwise.
Winches, Lines and Jib
All winches on YJ are self-tailing: the line is usually wrapped 3 or 4 times around the winch, then placed on the prefeeder hook, wrapped around a grooved structure at the top of each winch, and pulled firmly into the groove. The line is then winched in with the winch handle, exits the winch near the prefeeder, and is held without need for anyone to tail the line (usually) and without need to cleat the line elsewhere. The line is pulled out of the self tailing structure when tension must be eased. Dave Izant's boat, Finesse, has self-tailing winches, which Tom had found difficult to feed, but he became comfortable with the procedure during this trip. The jib sheets are so thick that stopper knots tend to work loose. The jib sheets and main sheet on 'Jack are about the size of the dock lines usually used on E.T. A 110% roller furled jib completed this set of basic "delivery" sails. These sails will be removed and replaced with high tech Kevlar and Mylar racing sails for the race.
First mate Roy Savage joined the group as the main was being attached. He was unknown to the rest of us, having answered an ad in Latitude 38 for a skilled crew member. Chris showed Roy a little of SF that night, then Roy returned to YJ to spend the night also. The ship's clock, which is supposed to sound 8 bells at 8, 12, and 4 am & pm, then starts over at 1 bell, adding 1 bell every half hour, had been sounding an erratically large number of bells. Finally, around 2 am, it sounded its bells continuously. I gave up counting after 210. Roy got up to remove its battery, then had to fuss with it to close it up again. Tom said anyone who could manage not to take an axe to this thing which woke us at 2 am must be a truly civilized being, and so Roy proved to be.
Watches
Chris set up watches for the six of us, 4 hours at a time for night watches: 8p-12a: Laurence and Sue; 12a-4a: Chris and Tom; 4a-8a: Roy and Otis; then 6 hours at a time for day watches 8a-2p, and 2p-8p, to allow more uninterrupted time to sleep. The person not at the helm would take a careful look for traffic every 5 minutes. (As sleep deprivation set in, Sue found it difficult to stay awake and feels a wrist watch with a 5 minute countdown timer would be a help here. Also, Chris, Roy and Laurence have very good long distance sight, and almost always spotted traffic first.)
Berths
Our new $20 sleeping bags proved to be warm and comfortable. Tom & I chose the port quarter berth, and ended up staying there for the trip. It's comfortable, although noisy when the engine or generator are running, or the vacuum head is flushed. The quarter berths are wide enough for two, and a lee cloth can be tied up to the overhead in the middle, to keep one occupant from rolling into the other. Since Tom and I knew we would not be on the same watch, we asked Chris if we could stow gear in one half of the quarter berth and sleep in the other. He said that's what he prefers to do if there's room, and there would be for this trip. It is a bit daunting to imagine the shuffling of bodies, sleeping bags, and gear when carrying 8 or 10 crew as is often done in a race. One of 'Jack's few faults may be a lack of obvious space to store gear. There were string hammocks which Chris said could be strung from little sheet metal hooks on the overhead for this purpose, however we never saw anybody use one, and Tom's efforts to fiddle out a way to do it left him puzzled. This situation couldn't of course have had anything to do with our tendency to always bring much more gear than we need, we had bought West Marine's largest duffel bags in lieu of our usual hard framed backpacks which Larry Hoffman had said were not suitable for a rolling cabin, and filled them almost to the limits. Chris may have had more, or as much, gear including his saxophone, but then he was the skipper, and was staying for the race. Nevertheless, we actually used much of our stuff.
The other berths available were the starboard quarter berth, used by Chris and Roy, and starboard and port salon berths (midway along the boat's length). Racing sails were stored in the "stateroom", the forepeak berth, which becomes wet when sails are changed for racing, and is not used for sleeping while sailing to reduce weight forward. Access to these berths for people with mobility problems has its difficulties: the quarter berths must be entered from the effective head of the bed where there is barely enough headroom to turn over end for end with struggle, sitting up quickly is just not done if you like your dome intact. In the main cabin amidships, there is a platform about 10-12" high to mount before gaining access to the salon berths. There is also a folding table and gimbaled rack, running the length of the berths, in the center of the platform, thus allowing about 18 inches between the berth and the folded table. These salon berths are, though, double width also like the quarter berths. There is a slanted back rest which, during our trip, was placed at the center of each of these berths to form a back rest when using the berth as a seat at the table. The outboard half of each berth was used for gear storage.
Sun Jan 21
We awoke around 7:30, showered in the facilities next to the Harbor Master's office, and had a breakfast of bagels and cream cheese at Norm's Pier 40 Roastery around 9:30am. Special thanks are due here to Commodore Norm Pierce for his donation of a pound of his finest coffee, and a brewing cone with filters, offered when he heard the only other option aboard YJ was that stuff which comes in a jar and which starts with "I". We will not defame Norm's product by association with that word here! Thanks Norm! If that coffee didn't actually save our lives, it felt that way.
Some last minute problems included the cartridges for our inflatable PFD's. Larry Hoffman had informed us that the airlines/FAA will not allow the CO2 cartridges aboard planes (we made 15 day advance flight reservations for Sat Jan 27 for a cheaper rate, the date suggested by Larry). Our PFD's are not the usual brand, but the dealer had assured us that the usual cartridges would fit, and Larry suggested we leave our own cartridges at home and borrow his spares to avoid problems with the airlines. We left our cartridges home. Sun morning we discovered Larry's cartridges would not fit, but Dan Sullivan came to our rescue with a quick trip to West Marine to buy the only two available cartridges of the proper size. Many thanks, Dan!
Orientation
Chris gave the crew an orientation to Yukon Jack above and below deck. There are 4 items hydraulically operated, which he would handle: boom vang, outhaul, backstay, baby stay. Three shower positions: just forward of the starboard quarter berth but mainly used to hang foulies, port cockpit near the wheel, and the scoop on the boat's stern (a shallow scoop shaped platform just above the water, extending 2-3 feet beyond the transom, used for swimming access to water and boat, but would also be a great way to get a man overboard back aboard -- it was an addition to YJ, should we add one to ET?). One head, which has a vacuum flush and requires only stepping on a pedal to activate: no opening/closing valves or pumping for each use -- this would also be great for ET.
YJ is also equipped with an electric 3 burner range and oven, microwave, double sink, refrigerator, freezer, and was well stocked with food, although we didn't locate the salt and other condiments until the end of the trip. Electronics include GPS, radar, true wind, knotmeter, VHF-marine radio with keypad channel entry (Tom was envious), SSB radio, autopilot (most useful under power -- Chris urged us to steer manually as much as possible, especially under sail, so as not to abuse the autopilot).
There are 2 tether points in the cockpit, one at the stern near the wheel, the other at the companionway. Webbing strap jacklines run from near the stern to the cleats amidships, then forward to the bow. There is a tether point at the bow, and another at the base of the mast where unused halyard shackles are fastened. Chris said we should be tethered in the cockpit at night and whenever we go forward of the cockpit.
The weather Sat night was rainy and stormy, but the Weather Service was predicting 20 kts at sea, with no mention of a major storm, so Chris felt it was appropriate for us to depart around 1p Sunday. We caught a strong ebb tide, and quickly motored then sailed close to the Golden Gate Bridge. We marveled at how quickly we got there. Chris asked us to describe the steps for reefing, then had us do a man overboard drill.
We tacked back and forth through the Golden Gate and beyond to miss the west side of SF. We could see the top of the Farallon Islands, then headed south. It became colder, and Sue and others went below to change to something warmer.
Seasickness
Tom & Sue are usually free of motion sickness above deck in the Bay. Sue has known for a few years that going below deck will make her feel seasick within a few minutes, but had never actually been sick, and had felt fine and was not thinking about possible seasickness until it struck. In the past, conditions had never been so severe, nor sailing time so extended that going below was an occasional necessity. It was a surprise and shock to need to ask for the best location at the rail.
Tom and Sue had taken a generic form of Bonine (meclizine) to prevent motion sickness, and gave some to Laurence when his Dramamine tablet crumbled in its plastic package. This failed to help Laurence, who was severely seasick for a day and a half (we hope we did not poison our good friend Laurence with the Bonine). In conversation with Otis a week before, we found to our surprise, since he is retired from the Merchant Marine, that he sometimes gets very seasick. Otis also became severely seasick, and he and Laurence soon headed below. Sue stayed in the cockpit, recovering gradually, and obtained Chris' okay to remain in the cockpit all trip if necessary. Sue was very grateful to Tom for stopping us from eating anything after the breakfast bagels. Sue gave her stomach no ammunition and restricted water to a minimum in order to avoid head need more than once a day until Tuesday, but had to spend time slowly recovering when she did have to go below briefly. Tom, fortunately, felt only slightly queasy once, and being below deck made no difference to his stomach.
Roy said that he can be motion sick for the first day or so, and uses Marezine, which works well except that it is a powerful diuretic. We failed to ask Chris if he is ever affected. Roy commented a few days later that he had never seen so many seasick people who nevertheless all managed to clean up after themselves, and keep themselves and the boat clean, so no one had to clean up anyone else's problem. Sue doesn't know if her problem is caused by the different motion below deck or seeing close objects move more in relation to her head, but she plans to experiment with Marezine and with largely shutting her eyes below deck to ease the problem.
Chris and Sue took the first night watch, Chris at the helm. As soon as we got out the Gate, we were hit with 8 to 10 foot steep seas. It seems likely that the sudden onslaught of these coastal monsters contributed largely to the equally sudden onset of unexpected sea sickness. The wind was 15 to over 25 knots from the south-west. For quite a period Sunday evening, one tack carried us north of west, and the other tack took us back towards Half Moon bay and the coast. Chris wanted to get off shore as soon as possible, both to avoid the shipping lanes and because sea conditions are usually more moderate away from the shallow waters of the coast.
Towards evening, Chris decided we would have to motor out for a while to get clear of the coast before full dark fell and seeing shipping became tricky. It was sad to have to start so soon with the noisy engine but safety and progress overcome such scruples quickly. Poor Chris had by far the worst of it that night. With 1/3 of the crew down with sickness, and the worsening conditions he showed his mettle right off, keeping his cool and even his sense of humor while getting us through the mess. He kept saying, with each little westerly wind shift, "it's clocking around, here we go" or some such.
Tom, looking forward to his first night watch in unknown conditions decided to try a bit of sleep. Even with the engine roaring next to his berth, he snuggled down in the warmth, held snugly, but not cramped between the plywood bed side and the lee sheet, and actually dozed a bit until just after 11:00 P.M. when he got up to gear up for the on-deck blast. By then, the wind had actually clocked around west enough to allow us to sail under a double reefed main and a partial jib. Seas remained 15 feet or so, and with wind above 20 knots. Squalls were visible mixed with clouds and the occasional sucker hole of stars. Chris felt he or Roy needed to stay at the helm during the night watches, as the size of the seas and our nearness to the coast, along with his relative unfamiliarity with the crew's abilities caused him to rely on his known abilities. After Tom took over the watch crew position, Sue bundled up as much as possible and actually dozed sitting up. She says she really got a useful amount of sleep this way over the trip. Tom was probably overly worried about her exposure and possible dehydration staying up that way, but recognized the small risk to be taken in lieu of certain sickness.
Seat Cushions
That first night we did not use YJ's seat cushions, because Chris had said they might blow away. So when the boat heeled, Sue would rouse just enough to stop herself from sliding off by raising her foot to the opposing seat edge or by considerably slouching to keep her feet on the other seat. Then she would slide in reverse to hit the seat with her back when the boat heeled the other way. The fiberglass seat was also very cold. By the next day, cushioning was almost a necessity, so she asked to use the cushions. These cushions are 1 inch thick closed cell foam, without coverings, and look slightly unattractive and utilitarian compared to the upholstered type on ET and Finesse. However, they provided padding and very good insulation against the cold hard seat, and interestingly for BAADS' purposes, they greatly reduced sliding on the seat, which many people have had difficulty with on the BAADS boats. The cushions were also great for kneeling on during winching, were easily cleaned with a hose, dried more quickly than upholstered ones do, and were much lighter to handle. We hope to see this kind of cushion on BAADS boats in the near future.
A while after midnight and the watch change, Chris decided that the increasing wind required that we douse the main. It would be too easy to become overpowered surfing down one of the huge seas and broach or put the bow deep into the next steep mountain. We called Roy on deck to take the helm while Chris went forward to drop the sail. Tom said quite firmly that he would be willing to come forward if he could be of help getting the beast tamed, Chris said he would call on Tom if things went poorly. (Tom: I did not look forward to climbing up out of the relatively sheltered cockpit in that mess, on a cabin top with which I was, as yet, only slightly familiar to reach up to a boom that is almost at my head height and drag down that huge heavy monster, but it is certainly the responsibility of anyone who claims to be willing to crew to make him self available if needed-- (eep)). Chris had a bit of a struggle with the full battened main getting its battens wrapped up in the lazy jacks. However, without lazy jacks, that monster would have been loosed to fly all over the place. The main came down, and Chris was again able to regain his place at the helm, only slightly less exposed at the aft end of the cockpit than he had been on the cabin top. We rolled up most of the jib, needing to put the furling line on the primary winch and crank with all Tom's power to get it in. We sailed the rest of the night, and most of Monday with just this perhaps 100 square feet of jib out. Nevertheless, we consistently made speed of 7 to 10 knots, and with more sail the boat would have been at great risk of becoming uncontrolled. Sometime during that rather hairy night we made our best speed of the trip, surfing down a monster at 16.3 knots!!
At some time during one of several squalls in the midnight to 4:00 Am watch, while being pelted with BB sized hail, unknown gusts, and luckily flattening seas, Tom asked Chris, (Amazing, he could still converse happily while steering through that mess) how these conditions compared to the worst he had ever seen. On a 1 to 10 scale, with 10 being his worst experience, how would he rate this? Chris called it a 6, saying that since we were downwind, we didn't have waves breaking over the bow and a cockpit full of water, and that would be much worse. Later in the trip, after things had settled down to a vastly pleasurable sled ride, Chris volunteered the information that it had really been an 8, he just didn't want to worry a new crew. Nice guy that Chris, to put it very mildly!.
Chris said he can tell how to steer to the waves by feel, and doesn't see them in the dark, despite running lights. He sees the one that has just passed.
One of the many things which we learned, again, on this trip is that carrying a lot of sail in poor conditions, or even in good conditions like a bay summer afternoon is for fools. Despite those tales of clipper ships with all sails set around the Horn, the adage "reef soon, reef often" is a fine one, and will bring you back, alive, happy and comfortable knowing that you are a better sailor than the macho type who always wants the rail in the water.
Monday morning saw us perhaps 60 miles off the coast with the wind around to the northwest just where we wanted it. The seas were still 15 or more feet, but had increased in length so that they were more manageable, and the Weather Service's predicted 20 to 25 knots of wind were actually more like 25 to over 40 knots. There was still lots of boat motion, vertically, heeling, and just about everything else. The motion was too extreme to be at all pleasurable, and we felt we had picked a time of year too harsh for our first extended sailing trip. We pictured enduring 6 days of this, since scheduled arrival was Friday or Saturday. What hope and relief it gave us to hear Chris say that at our speed, we would be in San Diego by Tuesday evening!
Monday evening saw us settled down to more what the trip should have been like. We still had a lot of wind and bigger seas than had seemed likely, but the ride was getting more comfortable, Laurence showed his head a bit, and Chris felt that others could have brief tricks at the helm without risk. Chris and Roy had split helm duty between them for a day and a half, as no one else was competent or well enough to relieve them in the worst of the sea conditions. Now Yukon Jack could show what she was built for, not that her performance to this time had left anything to be desired. She is a beautifully built, beautifully designed boat, and other than a slight tendency to roll a bit hard in steep seas, she is easy to manage, remarkably easy to steer, and tight, dry and in all ways a great boat.
Monday afternoon Chris brought out a Vegetarian Lasagna which he had talked a friend into providing for the first meal of the trip. Few of us had felt like much food Sunday evening. We had been a bit worried about who would do the cooking on board, Chris said he could manage breakfasts, but not much else, Sue doesn't do domestics nor below decks, Tom can cook a bit but it is difficult in an unfamiliar and moving galley, and Laurence was, for a day and a bit, out of the picture. Luckily Roy proved himself to be more than capable of managing things. Tom found it interesting to carry a loaded paper plate full of lasagna from the galley, up to Chris at the helm, using one hand for the food, and one for holding on, it's easier than I thought. The lasagna was, good! hot! and very welcome for the 3 of us (Chris, Roy, and Tom) who even wanted to see food by then. Sue decided that discretion was the better part of wellness and didn't partake, leaving more for Chris who had done most of the work to this point.
Monday night, we rounded Point Conception some time about midnight. We had had a 200 mile day, one of those speed runs all ocean sailors talk about. It had not been an easy day, but we were all getting a bit more used to it, and conditions were slowly moderating. Point Conception, where the coast turns east, is the major milestone of this coastal trip, after that, they say, the seas should drop, and the winds moderate. Well, the winds did moderate, dropping during Monday night from the previous 25 plus to 15 or sometimes less Tuesday. The seas became smoother, maybe longer, and finally late Tuesday a bit smaller, but they were still much bigger than anyone including the Weather Service expected.
After the midnight watch Monday night, Tom stayed on deck as long as possible, both to help as much as he could, and to see conditions change. It was fun to finally go below, sleepily get out of all that gear and crawl in to the quarter berth with no sound except the water swishing by and the motion down to something almost soothing. Sleeping at sea can be really fun, for some of us at any rate.
Tuesday morning saw things quite a bit more moderate, longer smoother seas and running directly downwind ahead of 10 to 15 knots or so, there was actually sun often that day and people were feeling better, and more active. Some could have said it was almost boring, but not really.
This day saw good old Laurence feeling more like his usually active self, and it was wonderful when Tom was awakened after a couple hours of good sleep by Laurence shaking his elbow and asking if he wanted breakfast. The ham and eggs, and toast and tomatoes and coffee and hot chocolate smelled and tasted truly wonderful even if poor Laurence couldn't find the salt, pepper, and (Oh horrors,) the Tabasco sauce! About mid morning Chris decided a bit of a shower would help, and putting on a wet suit bottom did the highlights at the aft end of the cockpit. Tom, being a "water hedonist of long standing," was tempted, but waited till the air temperature had risen a bit more in the middle afternoon to don trunks, harness up and take a really fun shower in the swim scoop. Unfortunately at that point, the wind had really dropped for a while so we had to be under power to have any boat speed at all. The engine noise detracted a bit from the pleasure of a hot shower in the middle of the Pacific ocean, but it was still a kick, and felt very good indeed after a couple of days of being heavily bundled up. Only the feet were exposed to the ocean water, and it was not anything like as cold as we hearty S.F. sailors expect.
After rounding Point Conception, we began passing the Santa Barbara islands off to port. We stayed well off shore of these islands with their heavy ship traffic, notorious fog and things to bump into. Tuesday evening and night we passed San Clemente and Santa Catalina islands which seemed to take forever to go by. Chris said that after passing the southern point of Santa Catalina we'd have only 60 miles left to go to San Diego, and might get there midday Wednesday. Tuesday evening we ran into ideal surfing conditions, 15 to 20 knots of wind and long 10 to 15 foot smooth long period seas. Under a double reefed main, and a partial jib, we found out what downwind sailing at its best is like. You steer so that each sea meets your stern straight on, and try to match boat speed to the speed of the onrushing sea. Hopefully you surf staying on top of the sea as long as possible with the speed of the sea adding to your speed over the ground. It is fabulous, like sailing on rolling satin, the water no longer crashes and bangs you about, but just hisses and gently burbles by. Smoothness and speed and magic are really the only ways to describe it. It lasted for two to 4 hours during which we made speeds rarely less than 7 knots, often over 10, and once over 13 knots. If it had lasted longer we'd have made San Diego by noon Wednesday. But the sea is really ever changing, and about the end of the midnight watch Tuesday, things dropped off till we were not making 6 knots and Chris decided we'd have to motor to get us in to port before dark on Wednesday, and to keep ahead of another storm which was on our heels.
We had all had good turns at the helm Tuesday afternoon and night. Tom has always had trouble sailing down wind where the apparent wind is often hard to feel, and where accidental jibes are a threat, but with Laurence or Roy calling out the compass courses, learning to hear the waves coming up from astern, and feeling the pattern of movement as each sea passed, he thinks he may get the hang of it some day. He had brought an experimental audible compass developed at Smith-Kettlewell rehab engineering center where he works; this compass produces a tone which changes in pitch as one veers off a preset course. This all seems fine in the lab, but on watch when the sound of the sea and the boat is so much a part of the enjoyment, the piercing dings and beeps were more than could be stood even though others on watch were willing to put up with it for Tom's sake. So the human voice calling courses is best: back to the drawing board.
Another amazing thing about 'Jack is the ease with which she steers, although she always needs some steering downwind, the wheel is easy to work, rarely if ever needs a lot of arm strength, and even when it is necessary to spin it through its nearly 2 and a half full turns of movement, this can be done almost with one hand rarely requiring real muscle. Usually just less than a half turn of the wheel either side of dead center does the trick nicely, and the boat rarely goes into the left-right oscillations so noticeable on other wheel steered boats we have tried.
Wednesday saw us motoring past the southern California coast slowly coming onshore steering nearly due east. Once about mid day, Laurence thought we might have enough wind to sail as fast as the engine could push, so we hoisted everything we had and shut down the monster for a half hour of quiet. We didn't make more than 3 to 4 knots for most of it so regretfully had to go back to the motor but Chris said, and we all agreed heartily that it was good for our heads to have a bit of quiet, and for the engine to have a chance to cool down a bit.
Tuesday night we saw dolphins playing in our bow waves, framed in phosphorescence as they moved. On the approach to San Diego Wednesday, we all took turns going forward to enjoy a large number of dolphins leaping out of the water, including Tom who is pretty sure he heard the blowing and whistling as they streaked by.
We arrived in San Diego Harbor just after dusk Wednesday evening and made our way to our berth front and center at San Diego Yacht Club. Unfortunately none of the other big famous race boats had arrived, so our chances to rub shoulders with the likes of Dennis Conner didn't come to pass. Worse luck for the fat cats. However the club is very well run by more than pleasant staff, with superb facilities to which we apparently had unlimited access due to our status as crew on a famous race boat. We enjoyed a great and reasonably priced meal in the club dining room, and a shower, and settled down for a solid night's sleep aboard.
Unfortunately Laurence and Otis needed to leave the next morning, but Sue and Tom were luckily able to stay Thursday and Friday doing laundry, shopping at the many marine related stores within easy walking distance of the harbor, and enjoying the company of Chris and Roy. Friday we sailed Yukon Jack on a sunlit, nearly flat ocean with a blind friend of Tom's, 2 local sailor friends of his, and Chris. It seemed like a bit of the cruising life to which one could rapidly become addicted. It was a real pleasure to get to know our fine professional sailors better.
We knew that Larry Hoffman was thinking of selling Yukon Jack. While the four of us were together aboard her in San Diego, a couple who were prospective buyers came aboard. We did our best to be courteous, but we found out afterwards that we all felt protective of our friend 'Jack and wanted this "threatening" couple to go away and leave "our" boat alone.
We were able to ask Chris his view of the trip and expressed our appreciation of his immediate acknowledgments when one of us made what he considered a good point. He said "Leave your ego behind when you go out there." He also said "I didn't have to wince when anyone was at the helm. They knew how to handle line, I didn't have to baby anyone putting lines on winches." We were elated that he said "You'll see more of me around BAADS." He plans to become involved with the club, and to help us with skipper training.
Though this trip was not without its difficulties and moments where we wondered what we had gotten ourselves into, we survived the considerable physical and mental challenges, and emerged realizing we were tougher than we might have guessed. There were many more great moments than hard ones, and it was in all ways a fabulous experience, most of all made that way by Chris and Roy. Their competence, seamanship, good humor, willingness to discuss the situation with newcomers even under somewhat adverse conditions show what truly civilized people are. On the whole trip, there was not one note of dissension, not one complaint about another person, not one disagreement, not one raised voice.
We all extend our heartfelt gratitude to our whole crew, most especially to owner Larry Hoffman whose generosity, care in planning and preparation made this trip possible for us, and very warmly to Captain Chris Jordan and first mate Roy Savage who made it a wonderful and first rate experience. And of course to our new and dear friend Yukon Jack the stout hearted comfortable reliable and most cooperative member of our team. If you all bring this much joy to all those who sail in and with you, the world will truly be a better place for your being in her. Thank you gentlepersons all. Let's do it, or something even better again soon.
1999 Afterword: We sailed once in the Bay with Larry Hoffman and Chris Jordan on YJ about 6 months or a year after the San Diego trip. Yukon Jack was later sold to Drew Harper of Spinnaker Sailing in South Beach Harbor. She's still berthed near the breakwater end of "A" dock. We pass by her fairly often and think with a fond smile about our ocean adventure. We saw Chris about a year ago and, while he's very busy, he may yet become involved with BAADS.
Written 1996
Updated 2-18-1999 and 6-20-2005