WHEN TO SAY WHEN

This past June, I was teaching a Coastal Passage Making course—a one-week program that involves sailing out the Golden Gate and up and down the California coast.

Sailors who venture out the Golden Gate must be aware of the forces of the open seas that await them. Photo by Martin Sundberg

By Captain Ray
Published: August, 2009 

Typically, we operate between Pillar Point Harbor (in Half Moon Bay), the Farallon Islands, and Drakes Bay (at Point Reyes).  Midway through the course, we departed San Francisco Bay enroute to Drakes Bay, where we planned to anchor for the night.  About noon we arrived at Duxbury Reef Buoy, just off Bolinas. As we monitored the weather broadcast at the noon change of watch, fog was closing in and visibility was down to less than a quarter-mile.  Our vessel was equipped with both GPS, which tells me where I am, and RADAR, which tells me where they are, so I was confident in our ability to remain safe and reach our destination despite the reduced visibility.  But the National Weather Service had just posted gale warnings for later that night and the next day, causing me to reconsider our plan to anchor in Drakes Bay. A gale is not to be trifled with; the power of gale force winds and the seas they blow up can be very imposing. 

We were already halfway to our planned anchorage.  There was plenty of time to cover the remaining distance and get the hook down before the wind and waves arrived. But at this point, I called for a change to our itinerary, and we returned to San Francisco Bay and picked up a mooring in Ayala Cove at Angel Island.  We spent the night tied fore and aft, snuggly protected by the surrounding hills.  Meanwhile, the National Weather Service buoy just outside the Golden Gate was reporting:

Wind northwest, 25 to 35 knots, with gusts to 41 knots. Seas northwest, 12 feet at 8 seconds.  

Try to imagine, as you ride the ferry home from work, that the one- to two-foot windchop you see is actually an unending series of grey walls of water 12 feet high, with one passing your window every eight seconds.  That’s what was happening less than 20 miles to the west of where we lay peacefully moored, preparing breakfast.  If I had not followed my gut feeling and called for a change, we would have spent a rough night at anchor, and had a very uncomfortable day sailing back. The students were disappointed when we turned around, but when we talked about the weather report and what it would have meant for our sailing experience, they came to understand why I made the change.

Knowing when to make a decision to turn back—or not go out at all—may be the most valuable lesson a sailing student can learn.  Harnessing the forces of nature and challenging ourselves are both parts of the human spirit and parts of sailing.  However, recognizing the limits of our skills, knowledge, and the consequences of possible gear failure are very important considerations.  I’ve often said to students that sailing is “serious fun,” like climbing high mountains or riding large animals—and not everything is under our control!

Teaching out of OCSC in the Berkeley Marina is, in many ways, the best of all worlds.  The wind most frequently blows in the Gate, and when it gets strong enough that it is time to call a halt, our home is only about 20 minutes away to leeward (or, downwind)—the easiest, most comfortable, and safest way to sail in a blow.  Out on the ocean, though, protection can be much farther away.  Ocean sailing requires more preparation and planning, and a different kind of decision-making. Follow your gut feeling; know when to say when.