September 10, 2009, Drake's Bay
Just a quick post to say we made it! We're anchored in the calm of Drake's Bay, with just one boat sharing it. We lost our wind not long after the last post, and had to motor a few hours to get here. But it was nice, lots of birds and a luminous fog-bow to welcome us to land. We cracked a bottle of good fizzy to celebrate, had a very nice meal, and now are getting ready for some well-deserved sleep.
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Dave
Wish I could be there. Know that I am toasting you from down east North Carolina.
Jeff
warmest regards,
Harvey
I have enjoyed everyone one of your posts and appreciate the time you took to work your blog.
Welcome Home! and Thanks!
September 9, 2009, Green water
Aquila must know she's heading home, as she's had a bone in her teeth all of yesterday and last night. We logged 160 miles in the last 24 hours, one of the best days of the whole voyage. There were several "lasts" logged as well: the last night watches, the last dishes done at sea, the last of the blue water. I smelled shore last night, and have smelled tide flats this morning. There is kelp in the water and a fog-bank lurking just offshore of us. We're on track to pass Pt. Reyes at the end of the afternoon. We're hoping it won't be fogged in, because the sunset there can be so lovely. But we know the statistics of that point, so we'll see when we get there.
We have quite a nice tide for the run in to the Bay tomorrow, flooding all afternoon. We're probably going to lift hook mid-morning sometime, and be back at the marina by the end of the day. If anyone from Davis or the Bay area wishes to come down to welcome us, that would be great! We'll almost certainly be at the F dock of Marina Bay Richmond, unless they force us to go somewhere else. They have a nice web site with a map. To get through the gate, either loiter until somene goes by, and we'll keep a lookout as well. Or prop the gate open (shhh!). If anything changes, we'll post here as soon as we know.
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We loved sailing with you, even though only vicariously.
Harvey
I enjoyed following you during the last year even if I must say that very often, I didn't have the slightest idea of what you were talking about :-))
bises a vous deux
We are casting-off just as you are returning. We'll be in FP this time next year.
September 8, 2009, about 200 miles out
A couple of important milestones have been reached. We're back within US territorial waters, or at least the "exclusive economic zone" that reaches 200 miles out. We're in the coverage area of the "California offshore forecast" released by the Weather Service. We're probably, for the safety-conscious, also within helicopter range of Coast Guard Alameda. But more importantly, it just *feels* like home. The temperature has dropped and the wind is 20 knots out of the north. There's about a 8-10 foot sea running, a mix of swell and wind-wave. In a nutshell, this is what it feels like most days when you clear Point Bonita. The boat is running fast on a close reach, and we should have no trouble getting into Drake's Bay sometime Wednesday evening. Then it will really feel like home.
The anticipation of returning to ordinary life leads to mixed feelings, which I, for one have not sorted out at all. I don't know what it will feel like going back to our land routine after this trip. It will certainly take some adjustment. I have a feeling that we will pine for the sea rather badly for a while, but time will tell. If we do, Aquila will be ready for us there in the Bay.
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A little over 25 years ago, I tracked my good friend Marvin Creamer's adventure around the world in his 35 foot sailboat. He did this without any navigational aids at all, not even a compass, sextant, or a radio. He did have a one-way transmitter that was supposed to transmit his position to a satellite, but this never worked more than three days out of any port.
I had to extrapolate his daily coordinates which I then placed on a 12" globe. Every 30 days or so Marvin and a crew of one or two would drop anchor in a port on a different continent, make news headlines, and we would know where he was.
What a difference 25 years makes! I found tracking your voyage, with E-mails at sea and using Global Earth to give us your position, remarkable.
I thoroughly enjoyed your narrative style. Thanks for placing your trip on the Web.
I wish you both good health and fair winds,
Phil Miller
September 7, 2009, near the Pacific great circle routes
Aquila: "Supertanker at 37 22 north, 133 40 west, this is sailing vessel Aquila" very short delay... then in a thick Arabic accent... tanker: "[unintelligble] to the vessel calling, we have you at 6 miles away" Aquila: "Excellent, we agree. What is your vessel's name?" tanker: [unintelligble] tanker: "Do you have any other business with us?" Aquila: "Well, yes, where are you coming from and where are you bound?" tanker: "We are coming from the Persian gulf and bound for [long pause] L.A." Aquila: "Thank you. Aquila clear. tanker: "out"
This happened just before sundown yesterday, after we had seen a *very* big tanker crossing our stern. Probably 1200 feet long. While we knew we were not going to be a scratch on his bow, we were curious about where we were relative to the shipping routes. The conversation ran up against a couple of prevalent cruisers' myths. Most importantly, we learned that such boats will, at least sometimes, answer hails on the radio... and in English! And to a male voice calling, no less. We also learned that someone was on watch, and actually watching the radar. And that Aquila shows up at decent range (it takes a couple of miles for such a boat to turn). All good news, in addition to providing a few minutes of entertainment.
The westerly came back about 9 last night, and has been good ever since. A little rain blowing through, but still nice progress. Looks like there's a chance we might make in to Drakes Bay on Wednesday night. But still a little early to tell.
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September 6, 2009, under high pressure
It's the kind of day where sailors work on their knots, play Go, or idly dream as the glassy waters slide by. We're motoring again, and are likely to do this for a couple more days. Oh, well, we knew this could happen.
The trash is thinning out where we are, but it's still out there behind us, I am pretty sure. It prompted one of those daydreams that might actually be practical. Someone needs to propose this to the Gates Foundation, if they haven't already. Here's the idea in a nutshell: a solar powered garbage-sweeping barge to circle the gyre, picking up the trash as it goes. It would be kind of expensive - a thousand horsepower of solar cells might cost upward of a couple million dollars. But low maintenance - you could probably run it with a crew of 2 and a couple of volunteers. One engineer/mate and a licensed skipper. It would be useful if these were also writers, since it wouldn't be exactly exciting duty. But you could have a tennis court and a hot tub (solar, of course) and a big library. So it would sweep back and forth across the trash zone at some stately pace, compacting plastic as it went like a mighty trash truck. It would probably only run during the day to avoid having a huge battery bank. Every time it got close to a port, a tug would tow it in to be emptied of trash and for a crew rotation. The only downside I see to the plan is the expected crash in glass-net-float prices, but that is a small slice of the global economy. I dunno, maybe the sun has baked our brains, but this wacky idea seems viable.
A few other things have happened. We had a cameo appearance of a small school of dolphins, and we still have flying fish and the occasional tropicbird. We're also seeing quite a few black-footed albatrosses, the common one of the north Pacific. That puts us in an curious mix of southern and northern species.
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September 5, 2009, about 600 miles out
We were looking over the grib files yesterday, and working out the details of the rather complicated predictions (which didn't turn out to be true, anyway). But it's often a bit hard to work out since they come coded in Universal Time, which was nine hours ahead of our time. So, as I often do at such moments, I turned to Sandra who was looking over my shoulder, and said, "Today's the 4th, right?" And she replies, "Yes, and that means tomorrow is... ummm... our 5th wedding anniversary!" Surprised both of us. We're not sure how to make the mahi mahi sufficiently festive for the occasion, since our stores are running low. This morning saw the last of the eggs go into a batch of pancakes - that's always a treat. Maybe a nice bouillabaisse. But I am sure Sandra will come up with something delicious.
We got unexpectedly nice sailing yesterday and much of the night. We were expecting, based on the gribs, to have the wind go north and get light. Instead, it picked up from the northwest and we had more great broad reaching, at times averaging 7.5-8 knots. It's lightened up now, and with an increasing swell, we're rolling a bit, but it's still pleasant.
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