Three Bridge Fiasco!

The San Francisco Bay Singlehanded Sailing Society’s Three Bridge Fiasco is infamous. I have been intrigued over the years by all of the stories I have heard of the hundreds of boats on San Francisco Bay trying to navigate an unprescribed course around three bridges (or their neighboring marks) in unpredictable and often painfully light conditions.

I was excited as always to be doublehanding with my boyfriend, Brendan on his boat, Siren. Siren is a Santa Cruz 33, and is one of my secret boat crushes (don’t tell Cassiopeia!). We headed out of Richardson Bay at around 0830 on a perfect winter’s day, surrounded by dramatic and captivating beauty that only San Francisco Bay can deliver. Every time I have the opportunity to sail up there, I seem to fall more and more in love with the varied conditions and jaw dropping beauty of that enchanted place.

I was at the helm as we approached the starting area near Golden Gate YC. As I laid eyes on the hundreds of boats circling the area, I felt so nervous that my stomach jumped up into my throat. I had never been on the water with this many boats in close quarters before, and it was startling to me. As we tacked around with them jockeying for our starting position, I was heartened however, by the palpable competence of all of these sailors as they danced skillfully and calmly with us. Having Brendan at the helm was doubly comforting, because there is absolutely non one with whom I feel safer on a sailboat. HIs peaceful confidence instills the same in me.

Part of the challenge and fun of this race, is that there is no set course, only marks around which one must pass. Direction and order in which you do this is up to you. We decided to head to Treasure Island first, which may not have been the best choice in the end, as it took us over an hour to round the island due to light flukey wind and strong currents, but we finally made it.

We sailed almost all the way to our second mark at Red Rock, but by then we were drifting and decided to retire and head back to Sausalito. Only a handful of boats finished that day, but it was wonderful to be out on the water all day in that wonderful place nonetheless. I was also grateful as always for time on the water with Brendan and Siren!

A Magical Day on the Water

PSSA Ship Rock Race turned into a Catalina adventure

 Most days on the water slay me, but this one took me by surprise with its unexpected majesty. Perhaps it was the fact that I hadn’t been out alone on my boat in quite a while, or perhaps it was that I have been in a bit of a funk, or maybe it was simply the pure magic of this day on the water. Whatever the reason, my spirit feels renewed, and I am grateful. 

 I left the dock in Marina Del Rey at 0945 am during a Tsunami warning. This sounds dramatic, but the only effects apparent in my marina were dramatic tide level changes (which was admittedly freaky), but I felt safe. The Coast Guard recommended heading out the sea if possible, and that is just what I did. To be honest, I was going to do that anyhow, but it felt good to be supported in my plans by the higher ups. The morning was rainy and a bit grey, and debris littered the marina as I made my way out past the breakwater. As I hoisted my mainsail and pointed my boat seaward, that feeling started creeping in…the one where I feel alive, whole and fully in my power. 

 I started out the day feeling disappointed because I was supposed to be racing doublehanded with my boyfriend, but COVID had other plans. As Cassiopeia and I journeyed out through roiling post tsunami surges towards the starting line, however, I began to feel the blessing of being there alone. It was perfect. My heart gave a little start, as it always does, as I approached my compadres gathering for the start. There is something so special about seeing and waving to all of my friends who are also out there seeking challenge and adventure in shorthanded sailing.

 The wind was negligible, at the start, and the lighter boats left us heavier ones in their almost imperceptible wakes. Even pointing in the correct direction was a feat, and the lot of us at one point or another were either spinning in slow circles, unable to steer, or moving backwards. At one point I heard a fellow racer’s laugh bellowing across the glassy water as I looked back to see him heading in the wrong direction after one of these moments.

 In my mind, I knew I wouldn’t finish, with many miles ahead of me and a boat speed of 1-3 knots, but I was captivated by the magic of the day and stayed out on the water to soak it all in. Even though there wasn’t much wind, there was always something to do to coax a little more speed out of Cassiopeia. Even in these mild conditions, sailing calls me into the present moment like nothing else. Pure attention to each subtle shift in the wind, and the reaction of my vessel is a moving meditation for me.

 As I slowly made my way towards Catalina, I felt like I had been swept away in the most beautiful love affair. The changeable conditions and atypical wind direction painted a day so ethereal that I was totally captivated; from a pod of whales surfacing out of a glassy sea about 20 feet away from me, to gentle rain showers christening our journey, to extreme wind shifts and velocity changes, and finally to a jaw dropping sunset, I was awestruck. 

 The racing didn’t matter to me at all, it was the experience of being out there on the expanse of the bay, surrounded by so many of nature’s wonders that made me feel alive. This is what makes me flourish and thrive, and I was reminded why I love being on the sea alone. The opportunity for oneness with nature and spirit is unparalleled when I am out there alone with no distractions and only myself to rely on. It is one of the greatest blessings of my life!

I stayed out until the sun set and the afterglow faded into a moonlit night, and then I started my engine and headed into the Isthmus so I could wake up the next day greeted by one of my favorite places on earth!