Thursday, September 20, 2007

GRUMPY BEAR- The rest of the story


Here we go! - Day 26 of 28


Well I was all set! I fueled to the max, rented another slip for the day, planned to fix a nice meal, take a nap, and set course about midnight. I've been going over my books, studying different scenarios on the Chart plotter, looks like once I can get around the bend, life is going to be very good. I still don't know what to anticipate, I've been told to expect 40 miles of hard road. So I am ready to face it in whatever form it takes. I guess it depends on the time between breaks in the swells, and the wind speed and direction. Some have said the winds were at 50 knots last week, and the waves were at 15 ft. swells with 6-second breaks. Not real good for a little boat. I am hoping for no more than 6 to 8 ft swells with a 10 to 12 second break, and southwest winds at 15 miles an hour. I am sure I can handle that, plus it certainly doesn't look like I will be alone out there.
Who out there is surprised that things didn’t go as planned?


Fear and Loathing in Santa Barbara - Day 27 of 29

Well I am in Morro Bay getting fuel, and all is well again. If I could have found the plug to this boat, I think I would have pulled it.I didn't sleep much last night, the tension and fear factor just kept growing, I just knew that as I departed the safety of Santa Barbara's Cove, there would be a huge Jolly Rodger Flag and a sign that said:"Beyond This Point there be Dragons!" Yaargh!So I lunged out of my berth at about 10 pm. I fixed a quick meal, stowed my gear, secured the boat, disconnected the electricity, and decided to debark an hour early. The suspense was just killing me. So I charged the port ignition, set her to idle, turned on the blowers (was supposed to do that first, oops) charged the starboard engine and everything went dark.I looked about me in the eerie darkness. There were a few boats with cabin lights glowing, but nothing around the docks, the immediate shoreline or anything on my boat. I could hear my port engine, but I couldn't tell if my starboard engine kicked in or not, so I turned off my port engine, and silence.Darkness and silence... a creepy, tingle seemed to vibrate between my spine and my shirt, maybe I needed a shower, but I think it was tiny hair follicles straining to stand up trying to get my attention, screaming that something was terribly not right. I looked at my shadowy silent boat, and put my fingers to the starboard ignition. I gently pressed against the key and then abruptly and abrasively turned the switch on.Nothing. No sputtering engine, no sudden illuminata, no equilibrium within the forces of nature. Just silence, and dark obscurity, vague gloom and uncertainty followed by an unexpected flash of obscenities, uncoordinated motion, and evil activity the likes I am unable to describe. To this day I don't know where it came from or where it finally settled, it may still be traversing the universe as I write this, but I know it couldn't have come from me, not mellow mild mannered me.After playing with a 100-hour flashlight, which gets its reputation by flickering off intermittently 100 times an hour, I pulled the engine and battery boards up, then stared fruitlessly into an innocent looking compartment; clean, orderly, and compulsively neat. I reached the conclusion that I had no clue as to what I was looking for and that this so far unknown but likely electrical ailment was probably terminal and would require the costly services of a professional.So I went to the Harbor Master’s office, picking my way through the ropes and pylons, barking dogs, and scurrying wharf rats, for as you may recall the complete area was devoid of light, and all the while I couldn't shirk the feeling that somehow I was responsible for sucking the light out of the entire vicinity. As I reached the humble abode of the harbor master's office, I informed the grizzly bear of a duty officer that I would be remaining the rest of the evening and into the morning and that I was experiencing electrical difficulties as apparently so was he.

He then informed me that I would of course have to be moved from my present slip into another more appropriate slip, and so I reminded him of the power outage and my serious lack of said power on the boat, and he suggested that if I couldn't handle the move, he would gladly call for a tug to tow me for a nominal fee. I then realized the simplicity of moving a 30 foot boat around the pylons, docks, rocks, and embankments in the middle of the night, with only one engine drive, and absolutely no navigation lights, and for that matter, nothing but dark shadows contrasted against more dark shadows to steer by. I told the officer with the twenty seven acre body that I would gladly move my boat and get right to it, praying silently to myself the entire way back to my day slip for a small miracle.As I was gleefully securing the lines to my newly homesteaded slip, lost in the pride of a job well done and humbled by the fact that my boat was broke and I didn't know how to fix it, a figure loomed in from the shadows and said "strange night, ain’t it?"I nearly shed my skin like a molting snake; this old man caught me so unaware. After climbing down from the non-existent mizzenmast that I surely would have scaled had I owned one, I told him he didn't know the half of it as I explained my misfortune to him. He merely nodded and said that he came down to check on his shop after the power went out, and low and behold it was still there (the shop, that is what passes for harbor humor). He said that he owned the marine store, and that he was a qualified marine mechanic and would be pleased as a pickle (whatever that means) to take a look at my boat, for a nominal fee.Well I agreed, and he drifted back and forth between my boat and his shop, and finally isolated the problem as a loose ground wire. Five seconds and $390.00 later I was in complete operational mode!At 0730 hours I set my course for Point Conception. Alone.

Where have all the bay seals gone... - Day 28 of 30

Gone to no good everyone, when will they ever learn?Well the seals are gone. Most everyone I spoke with told me of the problems I would encounter with the Monterey seals, if and when I got that far. There’s no sleep to be had when thousands of barking pinapeds invade the coastal inlets. There will be seals on the rocks; seals on the docks, most captains that moored in Monterey adorned their boats with seal nets to keep the bloody nuisances away. Tourists come for miles around to see and pet and feed the troublesome noisy seals. And then grumble because they can't get their boat down the launch ramp, because it's filled with barking seals.They are not there now, I heard two separate barks throughout the night, and that was it. I asked the fishermen who seemed to have reclaimed their levy, "where did the seals go?" “Don't know” was the unanimous response. "Where are all the seals?" I asked the shop proprietors next to the marina, “Don't know” was the immediate response. I suspect collusion and conspiracy, but I don't know where to point the finger, apparently everyone has benefited from the disappearance of the barking seals.It's too late to get fuel tonight, so I'll pick some up in the morning, I am tied up to the fuel dock right behind the Normanda, a 62 foot monstrosity that I have been following since Morrow bay. I just finished speaking with the skipper of that boat; he is taking her up to the San Juan Islands for the owners. He was complaining about his big ole diesel getting only five miles to the gallon, I thought that that was pretty good compared to the 1.25 miles to the gallon I seem to be getting. He left Marina Del Rey this morning, and says he's been hitting 25 knots most of the way. He was impressed I was only two hours behind him, and I told him that was only because I got boarded by the coast guard coming out of Morro Bay. That set me back about a half hour.I made really good time myself (about 21 knots) actually once I got around Point Conception. The Point wasn't too bad, kind of like a roller coaster ride, only three and a half hours long. You get turned one way, then another, then up, then down, then repeat, then rinse...then all of a sudden, once you become accustomed to the motion, it levels out, the fog lifts, the sun is shining, the birds are sitting on the water, the dolphins are playing, seals are floating on their backs, otters are scampering about, and you come over a rising swell, and every living thing is gone. I looked about, but all I could see for miles around was these little floating plastic bubble pack bubbles. I later learned they were little jelly fishies, an entire flotilla of jellyfish. They made the gentle rolling swells look like vast green hills empty except for little tiny cacti growing up from them.After I cleared the jellyfish world, the sea opened back up to birds, fish, dolphins, seals, otters, gray whales, a veritable playground of creatures in abundance. I certainly didn't feel lonely with so many onlookers barking, snorting, chittering, and splashing, in fact I felt pretty good about finally being underway again and moving farther from the rougher seas.


I left my heart.... - Day 29 of 30

I now know how hearts are left in San Francisco, they are jogged and jolted and shaken loose going under the Golden Gate Bridge...I pulled out of Monterey this morning 0830 hours saw more freighters and tankers out on the horizon, but none as I passed through the shipping lanes, and all out bound. I had a southerly wind pushing me 21.5 knots all the way. I saw pilot whales outside of Frisco Bay, and a group and a bunch of slow moving grays heading north. Dolphins and seals were everywhere. I actually saw sailboats under their own power for the first time today, and more traffic than the past two weeks combined.Once I began my approach to the bay entrance, I discovered I had an inbound tide, and the wind still strong behind me. I was hitting 26 to 26 knots coming up to the entrance. I finally backed off on the throttle a bit, only to find that made things worse, so I throttled up and went with the flow.Once past the first rocks, the seas settled down considerably, and I was just cruisin' up to the Golden Gate Bridge! I noticed around me, I was receiving an official escort by three playful dolphins. It was magnificent. The skies had surprisingly cleared, as there had been some sea mist and hints of fog earlier in the trip, enough to remind me of the nightmare that could await me without radar and all.But there I was San Francisco unfurling with all her sun-drenched glory. Calm seas clear weather and a dolphin escort led me towards hundreds of colorful sails floating across the bay just beyond the Golden Gate Bridge. I made it! It was magical. It was premature, but a sense of accomplishment was surging through me. I stood and stretched, and took it all in, breathing deeply and sighing relief from worry of the unknown. The journey is almost complete, and I am still afloat.I should have been paying attention to the dolphins, who peeled away from the boat, I should have noticed the sail boats that kept their respective distance, if I had only focused on the waters ahead instead of 'taking it all in' I might have been prepared for the jolt, I might have at least sat down, but all of a sudden the water was boiling around me. I was directly under the Golden Gate Bridge, and it was like I was in a washing machine. My little boat was vibrating one way, then the other, I finally realized that over correcting was just making matters worse, so I set me rudders forward and just braced myself. By the time I figured out I was in trouble, I was out of it just as quickly as I got into it.Welcome to San Francisco!

Sacramento or bust - Day 30 of 30

Left for Benicia from the Emeryville docks at 1400 hrs yesterday, set a clear course northeast cruising at 21 knots. Made it to Benicia by 245 pm (oops 1445 hours). I had planned on lying over at the Benicia Marina, but I didn't expect to reach my destination so soon.After respectfully slowing near Benicia, I decided to continue on with my final leg of the journey, only to be rewarded with a complete loss of signal from my GPS Chart plotter two miles up the inlet. Now, for the first time, the navigation was getting tricky. I still had a GPS map of the area, including the Sacramento River all the way to Sacramento complete with Navigation Buoys, so I felt somewhat competent to continue on.As I mentally checked off each buoy marker as I proceeded, I gained more confidence in the map, despite the inability to match my surroundings with the terrain displayed on my chart plotter. Without my little boat icon, bearing, course and speed info, I felt slightly near sighted, and each time I passed a buoy marker, I inevitably had to scan ahead or behind where I tried to imagine my location on the GPS map. I passed towns, and communities, landmarks and bridges that I could not identify with my map, and it was because I was fidgeting with the GPS monitor and trying to second guess my location I think, that I missed the buoy marker that led to the entrance to the Sacramento River. The last point of reference I was even remotely sure of was a set of docks across from a Naval, or Coast Guard Moth Ball fleet, and that was several miles behind me I am fairly certain despite the fact that I could no longer monitor my speed or course direction. I did start paying closer attention to my compass, but the river kept winding this way and that way that even the compass direction was deceptive.I fell in behind two good sized river boats that I imagined with false logic were heading up the Sacramento River, but eventually I became more and more concerned that I had veered off course onto a secondary Sacramento tributary leading me towards Stockton. I finally dropped back, scanning the area, and decided to approach an anchored boat and ask directions. The gentlemen on the boat spoke broken english, and I had a little difficulty making them understand me, but finally one of the men said "si, Sacramento River behind you, but that slough over there will take you to it."I thanked the crew and set my course slowly at first, but as I began to realize from my depth finder, the channel was fourteen to twenty five feet through the center, I brought my speed up to 18 knots with confidence. I was headed north, my depth finder was consistently reading in the twenty foot area, and up ahead I could see boats and a wide opening at the mouth of the slough. I was back on track, and it was still early in the afternoon, things were looking up.I could see sailboats in the distance, across this wide opening, and other powerboats anchored and or traveling on the opposite side of the sailboats. Traffic was a good sign. I could smell fresh water, and I was beginning to look forward to dinner in old town Sacramento.That's when I looked down at all the kelp, or seaweed, or just plain weeds. I glanced at my depth finder, and it read 4 feet! A lot of things sunk in at that very moment. The powerboats were 8-foot bass masters and the sail boats, were actually sail boards with colorful kites attached and floating lazily in the sky. I was the not so gentle giant, a bull in a china closet, and quite obviously not in the Sacramento River.I have a 3' 10" draft on my boat, and I had in no uncertain terms dispatched myself across dicey waters. I knew that I needed to lower my Bow and raise my trim to minimize my draft, and so I instantly went into heroic action. I grabbed a firm grip on both throttles, and slammed them back into neutral as I squealed at the top of my lungs like a little girl. Problem solved. I screeched to a sudden stop, my bow came down, and I raised my trim, but not before my stern shoved itself into the water with teeth loosening force. I just sat there for a moment, taking in the results of my actions, mentally inventorying my bicuspids and I swear, every one else on that body of water came to a complete stop when I did. I could feel calculating eyes upon me. My secret was finally out, the judgment was in, I am an idiot with twin mercs strapped to my butt with no clue as to what I am doing and no common sense. How could I possibly have survived as long as I did? I am at the bottom of the food chain, a mental midget; a disgrace to Davy Jones (of locker fame, and probably the Monkey Jones as well).As the world began to revolve again and fishermen went back to drinking, the sailboards went back to sailing, auto traffic on the distant bridge began to move again, I eased my boat into motion, slightly shaken stll. I experiencing difficulty at matching both engines, my trim was to high, and props kept clearing the water, and I was frantically searching for an "exit". Traveling at about one knot I managed to cover nearly every segment of that marshy hell, avoiding the populated regions of water out of embarrassment, and busying myself with the difficult uncooperative motors, playing with the trim with the panicky realization that not only have I made a monumental fool of myself, but judging from the temperature gauges, my starboard engine was heating up, the trim response from both engines was negligible, the sun was dipping low in the sky, and I was lost.There seemed nothing left to do but approach one of the witnesses to my blunder and confirm my ineptness by declaring that I am lost and beg for guidance, maybe a tow. The fishing boats seemed to have retreated into the reeds, and appeared to be deliberately inaccessible and averted their eyes when I gazed in their direction, so I limped over to the sail board region cautiously anticipating a restriction sign of some sort to fend me away, watching my depth finder religiously as I slowly fought my way across the marsh.First I found five feet, then six feet for the longest time. Then eight feet, then twelve, fourteen, twenty, and finally twenty-four feet when I reached the sailboards. Still I could not get my trim down any further, and if I tried to raise the rpm's my starboard engine started to heat up. I was crippled, but not dead in the water, I just needed to reach the sailboards. What I eventually discovered as I peered across to the other side of the sailboards was the waterway known as the Sacramento River. A couple of mid sized power boats sped through the sailboards with what I determined to be a reckless amount of speed with my new found maritime respect and awareness, but I also concluded that it must be permissible to pass through the sailboard field and proceed along my way.As I slowly cut through the colorful sails, moving much more slowly than the surfers themselves, it became painfully obvious that they were barely aware of my presence, they just slid back and forth across the mouth of the river as if in some kind of a mellow daze, or completely self absorbed with little interest in my passing.I now had a clear course ahead of me, and I meticulously stood buoy watch as I slowly made my way upstream. I found and identified my 1st buoy, and established my location; I played with the trim, and the rpm's until I found a happy medium of about 10 knots. At 1200 rpm, I was dragging a wake like a speedboat, but I could not get my bow up, or my trim down completely. I broke my boat. I accepted that now, but at least she was still under her own power. I kicked back, and pretended I was on the Disney Safari Boat ride and started looking at the shore line for hippos, and other wild animals, I imagined I was an Indian scout making good time in a canoe, and turned up the radio and listened to the distress calls of my fellow lame sailors who had drifted onto the rocks, or lost their engine and needed a tow, or were in dire need of assistance from the coast guard, but not really certain what kind assistance they actually needed. But not me, definitely not me, I was still under my own albeit crippled power. Channel 16 can be kind of entertaining on a late weekend afternoon.I grew eventually tired of the paddlewheel pace I was making up river as the sun began to set, I was also weary and sincerely apologetic numerous times to the people who madly waved their hands at me and yelled "trim down!" at the top of their lungs repeatedly from one 'no wake' zone to the next, so I decided to weigh anchor for the night, and found myself a nice quiet section of river and settled in for the evening. Tomorrow is another day, and Sacramento can't be far. It just now occurs to me;
Sacramento or bust?
Well I didn't make Sacramento. I sure wish I hadn't busted my boat.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

A short delay on the bay but it's time to go


Laundry day again - Day 25 of 27

So this is the life of a sailor? I could get used to living on nautical time. Priorities change, nothing seems rushed. I bought a couple more books, and some DVD's, and a computer game for my laptop, I went ashore two days ago, and kind of toured the town. There are a lot of curio shops and artsy stores. The inhabitants are friendly, and they speak our language. From the looks of the native huts in this region, I don't think I could afford to live here. And although they accept shiny coins and cards in exchange for trinkets, they seem to insist on gold and platinum...

The boaters are getting restless; some of the bigger cruisers are leaving in the dead of the night. I spoke with a skipper who offered to pilot my boat around Point Conception to Sacramento for $900.00. I have a few extra bucks since I got the news that my radar could not be installed without a Radar Arch back in san Diego. Something I did not realize was that an Arch was required to support a Radar Antenna. I thought that there must be a radar mast, or some way to elevate a single antenna. Truly frustrated, and without any immediate solution I cancelled the radar unit, the TV, and the satellite dish. I'll take care of those issues when I get back. As far as a Pilot is concerned, I think I'll just wait out the weather a little longer and continue solo. Foolish? Adventurous? Only time will tell.

The Harbor Master says that Saturday may be a good day to leave, there is a high pressure front coming in with south and southwesterly winds, which he suspects will flatten down the seas for a few days.

Belay that last, now it looks like tonight’s the night! The Harbor Master says that the winds have changed, and the swells are lying down. There is a flurry of activity around the harbor; I need to get ready.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007


Hurry up and wash - Day 20 of 25

I'm coming in! I brought two shirts and a pair of long pants and a pair of short pants. I need clean clothes!
I pulled up to a guest dock, took a cab to the Laundromat, I went sight seeing, bought a couple more books, ate dinner, and pick up some more groceries (apparently it's going to be cold cuts for me).

I still have perishables on the boat, but I don't seem to have a stove to cook on. It works just fine with the 110 electric, but the alcohol plunger doesn't build pressure, and I just don't want to mess with it right now.

But wait! I found a barbeque that clamps to the railing on deck, it's BBQ'd steak and corn on the cob tomorrow night! Santa Barbara is pleasant, they have a Club here that has concerts by the bay, and I can hear them quite clearly on my boat. I wish I could find their schedule so I could plan out my evenings better. I stocked my bar with brandy and champaigne, eat your heart out Robin Leach.

The forecast is still pretty grim, the bay is getting considerably full, lots of boats are trying to get to the San Juan Islands for the summer. The Harbor Master said that the beginning of June is when all the boaters head north, and October is when they head south, but the last two years, the weather has not cleared up for boaters until later in June, and early in November.

Well, I could think of worse places to be stuck in.

Monday, September 17, 2007

STILL ALIVE IN SANTA BARBARA






Hurry up and wait... - Day 16 of 21






I pulled into Santa Barbara at 1815 hours last evening, got me a slip for the night at the marina, I think I am going to anchor out tonight and see how that works. The first day of my voyage went without a hitch (whew!) and was pretty exciting to boot. I saw more sea life yesterday than during my entire naval career.


I never realized that there were so many varieties of birds at sea. I saw fishing boats going out and coming in with their great net masts extended out scooping up what I can only imagine to be cans and cans of chunky tuna.



There were many smaller islands in view, dotting the Pacific Coast than just the popularly known Catalina, and San Clemente, and for the most part the coastal shore was clearly visible to the starboard side of my craft, a good sign I was traveling in the right direction.




I saw my first freighter off on the horizon, and negotiated my way around oil derricks off the coast of Santa Barbara, then cut my way through about two miles of oil spill (naughty, naughty somebody) and watched the water turn from calm deep greens, to choppy blue swells, to pearly pale elastic knots of water all around me.



I saw first hand sea mists laying over the water, and blindingly bright reflective mirror seas shining and sparkling and pure (kind of gives you a headache if you stare too long). Memo to self, buy sunglasses at first opportunity.

The word in the harbor is, a low pressure point has lain in and boats are pulling into the bay to wait it out. I may be here a few days. Guess I might as well get comfy and wait her out too.

I see water! Lots and lots of water!




Seaward Ho! - Day 15 of 20




I'm at a Catalina Harbor fueling dock, getting too much gas... 71 gallons! I just topped off yesterday with 40 gallons, and I don't think the kid filled 'er up (at least I’m hoping that’s the case).

I finished outfitting my boat yesterday: food, tools, el Grande first aid kit, and played with the GPS Chart plotter for awhile. I was impressed with the fact that the boat icon showed me in my slip and had "Silver Gate Yacht Club" written next to it on the screen.It's in full color and bright enough to see in full daylight. I feel very confident in the software’s knowledge now.


I took the boat over to the fuel dock, pretty basic stuff, you pull up, a kid meets you and secures the boat and fills her up for you, you never even have to get out of the boat. Mcfuel drive thru’s! But don’t even ask about fuel prices! Just find the highest priced gas pump in town and double it…



From there I went over to the pump out station (to address something special the old owners left for me) and discovered the cap was frozen. So is that how it works? Do you just keep the boat until the sewage tank is full then sell it? So after returning to my slip and pounding on the darn thing for an hour or so with a hammer and a screwdriver, block of wood, pocket knife, coat hanger, and can of crisco to no avail, I ended up removing the entire pipe fixture and replacing it with a shiny new pvc pipe and pretty, rust resistant, stylish $200.00 chromed pump out cap by nightfall. I decide the pump out station would wait for morning.



After a brief breakfast and my morning cup of coffee I ceremoniously began my maiden voyage in grand elegant style by pumping out the boat’s sewage tank (note to self, purchase clothes pin for nose first opportunity), I then departed San Diego Harbor on the first leg of my journey at 0530 hours (that is nautical terminology for O dark thirty).




As the sun came up, I saw dolphins, whales, and a sunfish with an eight-foot fin span sunning itself on the surface. As I watched it approach my bow, I thought man that is a huge chunk of white plastic; I wonder what it came off of...

this is NOT a photo I took, I grabbed for my new Cannon Digital Rebel and snapped away, only to discover that while fidgiting with my new toy, I left the memory cards at my brothers house.




The water was a little choppy, minor two-foot swells, one right after the other. The twin engines seemed to be cruising at 3300 rpm smooth as can be, that engine synchronizer is cool, but once the two motors match harmonies, it seems pretty obvious they are in sync.I am heading for Santa Barbara next, if things go well I should get there between 6 and 7 pm (oops I mean 1800 and 1900 hours).

Sunday, September 16, 2007


Land Locked! - Day 13 of 15


Well this has gone smooth...Not!
Coming down from Red Bluff on the Amtrak Hound Express bus (I had visions of snoozing in a sleeper car the whole trip, naïve me!) We were informed in Sacramento, that we would still be transferring to a train, but its departure time was a special secret; not to be divulged to common folk like us who aren’t not quite smart enough to grasp the oh so difficult complexities of intricate choo- choo scheduling. Fortunately the news on the black and white T.V. screen mounted for the pleasure of the Ticket Counter Personnel shed a little light on the subject by announcing the exclusive live breaking commentary on the bursting of a San Francisco Levy, taking out a Railroad bridge, and (Amtrak?) communication lines necessary for Michael to complete his journey...serious danger...lives are at stake... stay tuned for news at eleven!
Well it only took me 23 hours to get to downtown San Diego. No worries getting into the Yacht Club now. In fact when I showed up, there were literally thousands of people milling around, this is the weekend of the locally renowned Wheelchair Regatta! (How apropos) I had to spend the rest of the day fending off the advances of young Marine Corps Cadets trying to escort me onto a boat, any boat for my 'special' ride, and little old women telling me if I want to ride on a boat I have to get in line like all the rest of the special people. I stopped at the front desk, asked for my boat key, and upon receiving it made a mad dash for my slip to hide out for the remainder of the day.
Well after negotiating my way through the herd (I suppose school or bait ball would be a more nautical term) of maritime do-gooders, I flung back the canvas cover from the helm of my precious new boat to take my first peek at... nothing. No holes drilled, no loose wires dangling, no mount brackets, no antennas, no radar, no GPS, no TV!
What a rewarding end to a very grueling day, at least I was grateful to have made it to Shelter Island at all. I set up housekeeping and spent a quiet night alone with my new beauty. I have to say the lull of the harbor with its soft lights and gentle tides makes for some cozy sleepy time.

Yesterday I had a few choice words with Butt-Crack Bruce who, true to form offered up a weak excuse; that when we spoke on the phone his worker was at the Marina to do all the work, but the desk clerk insisted that there was no key for the Grumpy Bear anywhere behind the counter or in the office.

at that point I knew I had Butt-Crack now (ha-ha) and I lashed out over the phone saying that I was in San Diego this very minute. ThatI had been at the Yacht Club a full day and when I walked up to the desk and asked for my key amidst chaos and hundreds of very busy people, that key was immediately dispatched to me without hesitation, thought or any unnecessary search of the surrounding area. Bruce (or BC as his fellow employess call him behind his well proportioned backside) was flummoxed, and stammered a sincere sounding apology and promised to have someone on the boat within the hour. I told him there was no need to pick up a key, that I would personally escort the gent to my boat.
As I was waiting for the service guy to approach me, I contemplated the type of service I would now likely receive. A clerk was opening up the small office behind the reception desk and setting up for business. She smiled at me and said "You're Michael aren't you? the guy that bought Grumpy Bear. I thought so, look I am really sorry about that serviceman the other day, you know we always keep our keys on the bulletin board, I never thought to look in the desk drawer. We tried to get the gentleman back, but it was too late..."
I thought to myself, I wonder how far out of the harbor will I get before my boat begins to sink...
The repair guy shows up.

A rhetorical question: Can Billy Gibbons be reincarnated if he isn’t even dead yet? I swear the installation guy was the spitting image of ZZ Top's Lead Singer just as he looked in say 1970. A real flashback for me, lol. He even had a southern Texas drawl. (do you think maybe ol' Gib's left a few illegitimates scattered around the countryside?)
As it turned out the serviceman was quite congenial, happy and easy going, perhaps too happy; he just might be a bit of a man’s man, batting for the other team if you know what i mean (I don't know why I say that, maybe it was the pink and yellow deck shoes). And I am certain he did not sabotage anything 'cause I watched him from a safe distance like a hawk during the entire installation procedure. All went well and we held a amenable cordiality. He even invited me out to a BBQ dinner as he was finishing up to which I politely declined as it totally creeped me out. Also I had a lot of preparation ahead of me to outfit my boat for the big cruise.
Another day or two and I’m out of here.

The Grumpy Bear Saga Continues


Surprise! Surprise! Surprise! - Day 10 of 15



Well wasn't that a bit of news! I received a call from my Yacht Broker this morning and it seems the previous owner of my boat has had a falling out with the Yacht Club and by association; I have apparently lost my guest privileges. John suggests I remove my boat from their slip before they pull her out of the water and charge me storage yard fees.


I was planning on heading back to San Diego on the 15th, but the situation calls for a quick change of plans. I contacted Amtrak, they don't have a train going all the way to San Diego until Monday, but they have a bus going through Red Bluff at 1 pm. I made a reservation, called Dad and he agreed to shuttle me to the Taco Bell / Bus Stop. got to love rural communities! Now all I have to do is figure out what to take along.


No big deal, I will get into the San Diego train depot at 5:30 in the morning, with any luck, Ernesto the maintenance guy from Tijuana usually arrives to work about 5 am/ He knows me so I can get him to let me in if I promise to make some coffee. Fortunate for me, after not getting my equipment installed last week; Bruce told me just yesterday that he had a technician working on my boat as we spoke! I was beginning to wonder if they would be done by the fifteenth, but of course Bruce did seem to be running out of plausible excuses, he even had to use the dental appointment pretext twice. But with the boat ready, I will pick up some groceries, take her out on a quick shake down trip to check out the new equipment, get fueled up and be on my way (gulp) into the big Pacific Blue. I should be back to Red Bluff in time for Hurry Back's Wednesday Night Karaoke Contest, if the weather holds out...

mine own Grumpy Bear

Red Bluff Bound! - Day 5 of 10

Well the paper push is complete, the Grumpy Bear is all mine. I bought a 17" GPS Monitor and antenna as well as the software to chart the entire Pacific Coast, the radar kit that goes with it and a $900.00 antenna array, a plasma TV, and a satellite dish so I can travel in style. It was all supposed to be installed yesterday, but the service manager said his wife threatened to leave him if he worked over the holiday weekend. Flinching from feeling somewhat empathetic I agreed to the installation on Tuesday, and left a key to the boat for Butt Crack Bruce (certainly NOT my nickname for him) at the front desk in the Clubhouse. I am house sitting for my brother while he vacations in Florida, so for now it looks like I am Red Bluff Bound! It is difficult leaving my new home so soon. The people here at the Silver Gate Yacht Club are very friendly, and the is so much to do in San Diego, the weather is beautiful and the ocean is wonderful I feel right at home all ready.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

the Infamouse Maiden Voyage of the S.S.Grumpy Bear

first entry - Day 1 of 3

This is dedicated to the S.S. Grumpy Bear a 30' Sea Ray cabin cruiser and my new home. I'm driving down to finalize the paper work today. I hope I am ready for this, I have always dreamed of living on the open seas. Traveling about living the sailor’s life. I successfully passed my physical and dutifully received my international shots, my passport is current and Mission Bay will soon be the gateway to my future. I have been reading up on seamanship, navigation, repair and first aid. These are the reading materials I have been ingesting:

WEATHER FOR THE MARINER
THE COMPLETE BOOK OF ANCHORING AND MOORING
SEAWORTHINESS: THE FORGOTTEN FACTOR
ADVANCED FIRST AID AFLOAT
STORM TACTICS HANDBOOK
ESSENTIALS OF SEA SURVIVAL
BOATOWNER'S MECHANICAL AND ELECTRICAL MANUAL
CHAPMAN PLOTING SEAMANSHIP
US COASTGUARD BOATING SKILLS & SEAMANSHIP
KNIGHT'S MODERN SEAMANSHIP
THE MARLINSPIKE SAILOR
THE ELEMENTS OF SEAMANSHIP
ROUGH WEATHER SEAMANSHIP for sail and power
HOW TO READ A NAUTICAL CHART
TIDE TABLES: WEST COAST OF NO AND SO AMERICA
CHARLIE'S CHARTS OF THE WEST COAST OF MEXICO
THE CRUISING GUIDE: Golden Gate to Ensenada
SPANISH FOR CRUISERS: boat repair phrase book
MEXICO BOATING GUIDE

If all that didn’t overwhelm me or kick my better senses in the butt, I guess nothing will. Avast ye lubbers I’m shovin’ off to discover the new world. Or am I just shelling out a lot of clams for a Vikings funeral?