On the Hook

I fired up the original 8-horsepower single-cylinder Yanmar marine diesel engine and motored from the Berkeley Marina to Clipper Cove at Treasure Island. When I got there, I was the third boat in the anchorage, and I dropped the anchor near the southern edge closest to the Bay Bridge.

Two smaller boats from the Treasure Island Sailing Center circled around in the cove. The kids aboard yelled and splashed at each other whenever they sailed within splashing distance.

I typed on the Smith-Corona Skyriter and ate some almonds. I had planned on making coffee and hanging out for a while but the fog was building at the Golden Gate Bridge and started to swallow Alcatraz. So I pulled up the anchor, did my best to keep the mud off the deck, raised the mainsail and headed back toward Berkeley.

Once out of the cove, I hoisted the jib and trimmed for a beam reach. She heeled comfortably and we nearly hit seven knots. Seven knots! I sailed north until I could turn east and run straight down, aiming at the clock tower at Cal Berkeley. I flew wing on wing, as it’s called, and when I neared the marina's breakwater, I had to scramble to get the sails down.

Singlehanded, this is always the toughest part of every trip. In the afternoons on the Bay, the wind always picks up, and in turn, the waves build and make balance tough. Without an autopilot, I have no way to keep the boat headed into the wind. I’m constantly hurrying from the mast to the cockpit, and back to the mast, and I dream of running all the lines aft. Maybe someday, but for now, I'm keeping it simple.

Alcatraz fading in the fog, the tip of one tower of the Golden Gate Bridge peeking through

Wing on wing, the clock tower at Cal Berkeley in view