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My hat vs. Captain Jack Sparrow’s hat.  Do you know whose is whose?

There has been a massive heat wave attacking the West coast for the last week or so.  Along with some intrepid adventurers, I hatched a plan: to swim, or die trying.

We left dock at about 12:30 on Sunday, when the temperature was about 125 degrees Celsius, or something like that.  I’m pretty sure of the 12:30.

I was thrilled to have Official Indian Summer Cabin Boy Gabe back on board, and he is still small enough to stand up straight below deck, an important feature in a cabin boy.   He immediately began cleaning the cabin (glad to see his skills have not slipped) and helped me start the motor and monitor things such as gas.  Miles bounded about the boat putting up sails and pulling up fenders and Janet made herself generally useful and agreeable.

The boat now has its own rubber duckie, which has been named ….its another boat secret, like what the head is actually called.  You can only be told on the boat.  We tied a line to the duckie and tossed him over once we were under sail, and found out that he prefers the sidestroke.  Either that or he was drunk.  It kind of looked like he was waterskiing on his side.  

We circled Angel Island with some serious wind, did an okay (not great) controlled jib that sent Janet flying down below.  I guess I should be louder with my “Prepare to jib”s.

Arriving at a cove on the leeward side of Angel Island, the wind died and we motored in and threw the anchor over.  The (evil and soon to be replaced) swim ladder was attached and then I finally got to dive off my boat.  Janet and I pretended we were off the coast of Italy, the boys refused to play. 

We fell and dove and jumped off the boat in as many ways as we could think of.  Embarrassingly, I had a lot of trouble getting back in the boat – the swim ladder sucks.   I kept on winding up under the boat rather than over the edge.  But after a hugely refreshing swim, I sunned on the deck with Janet and drank wine while Gabe used the duckie to reel Miles in.  Liam the selkie showed up and hung out for a while and then as it got late and the anchor dragged for the umpteenth time, we headed back to port.

That was when the real excitement began.

All true captains have a hat.  Captain Jack Sparrow has his, I have mine.  Captain Jack’s has been lost at sea and swallowed by a Kraaken, while mine has been lost down the mighty Zambezi, the Fish River, Casco Bay (multiple times) and a mudslide in the White Mountains.  As we tacked gently West along Angel Island, a gust hit and my beautiful McGill hat went flying away.

“MAN OVERBOARD drill.”  I roared.  Miles poked his head up from below, where he was snacking, and looked confused to see me, Janet and Gabe all still accounted for.  But the crew gamely sprung into action.  “Miles – get that thingy that’s on the thing to your left, no the long thingy, I’ve lost my hat!”  and he got the boat hook out.  “Gabe, Janet, prepare to tack, helm to lee!”  and we did.  Repeatedly.  We kept getting very close to my hat, but it was very small and wet and wouldn’t grab at the boat hook.  Note to passengers: if you ever fall off a boat, grab for the boathook – it saves time.  Another boat saw what was going on and tried to play.  They missed as well.  On the fifth try, Janet scooped up my hat and the day was saved.  I was so happy to get it back, I shoved it on my head soaking wet, but my crew insisted it go below so it wouldn’t blow off again.

It was great to get some MOB practice in, and San Francisco Bay has not claimed another victim.  This is the second time that Janet has made an essential save – if she does it again, she gets a commemorative plaque.

Tuesday, the 4th, dawned warm and sunny, and I headed out with Mischa and Ari.  At last, Ari was on my boat and I got to hear him pronounce it "FABulous!"  I’d been waiting a year to hear that.  They quickly adapted to boat life, despite some queasiness.

We had a brilliant sail around Alcatraz.  There were surprisingly few boats out that day.  I guess they were waiting for evening for the fireworks to go out.  Mischa and Ari were good crew for never having sailed before: I believe they read my shirt and adapted accordingly.

We headed in fairly early due to crew queasiness (but at least there was no puking this time) and were met at the dock by Chris and Ken, who welcomed us on to their boat to picnic away the rest of the day.

Chris and Ari went off to buy supplies at Molly Stones while Mischa, Ken and I put the Indian Summer to bed for the night.  Yes, Anna, I did flush the engine.  Then we sat around on the Nova Gina, eating, talking and perhaps, maybe, there may have been some drinking.

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Mischa and I were both photoing the goings on and beauty of the day.  Chris and Ken were looking really adorable, 3 days after their 20th anniversary party.  Ken curled up to nap right by Chris and I thought it would be a great shot and I could make it better... if only.. I…can … just ….. climb up …. here on the back… stay to ..get …the right….angl..AAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ass over teakettle into the harbor.  With my camera.

Underwater is kind of this color.  Really quite beautiful, and very refreshing.  Apparently I was underwater long enough to make everyone worry.  By the time I got over the shock of "I think I fell in!" and surfaced, Chris had prepared a life ring to throw, and Ari was on the dock waiting to pull me up.  There was quite an argument that went like this: "Give me your hand" "No, save my camera!" "No, get out of the water" "No, save my camera!" Finally, they agreed to take my camera first (even then I knew it was dead but I still had hope) and then hauled me out.  I was laughing too hard to really help pull myself out of the harbor.  Luckily, Ari’s a strong guy.  And Mischa has her priorities in order.  Once she saw that I was okay, she took photos.  When BoatGirl Fell Into the Bay.

Other people sitting on their boats applauded, and later, any time a boat went past, the sailors (even 7 year old ones) would yell at me "Don’t fall off the boat!"

While it was shocking while I fell, and hitting the water, it all seemed quite normal, and as I thought about it later, I realized its because I’ve spent a large portion of my life falling into water, starting with my attempt at age 1 to swim in the large central tank at the Boston Aquarium.  My parents held me back there, but I did manage to fling my shoes in so a diver had to get them.

Then there was the natural whirlpool on Jamestown when I was 7, falling off the Galilee breakwater when I was 9, fording the Pemigewasset River the first week of May, innumerous times off the coast of Maine year round, falling into the Fish River in Namibia with a full pack on my back, and I don’t know how many times I’ve heard myself say," No, really, I can do this" followed by a splash.  Is this normal?

I went to look up a specific Dorothy Parker poem that I quote a lot, and found one that I’d never seen before, but which is oh so perfect, what with the title and all.  I have to add it here. 

Indian Summer

In youth, it was a way I had
To do my best to please,
And change, with every passing lad,
To suit his theories.
But now I know the things I know,
And I do the things I do;
And if you do not like me so,
To hell, my love, with you!

            ~ Dorothy Parker ~

Now that my baby is safely harbored in Sausalito, all I want to do is sail.  So, the day after I moved into the new ‘hood, I took Carlos, Javier and Kathy out sailing. 

Kathy was well doped up on Dramamine and Carlos made fabulous sandwiches as galley boy.  I actually have high hopes for Javier - he’s possibly the first person I’ve ever had onboard to actually spend serious time at the tiller learning how to control the boat.  He did quite well, bringing us most of the way on tacks across the bay out towards the Gate.  Why is this such a big thing?  Well, being captain is a huge responsibility, you know, its like being management.  And what does being management mean? 

You delegate responsibility. 

When there is no one on board except me who knows how to control the boat, I can’t delegate responsibility, thus I can’t do things like sit in front of the mast for long periods of time, nap, pee, or fall off the boat (Foreshadowing alert!!! tune in to a later episode). 

We went out under the Golden Gate Bridge, where it was a bit foggy.  It was very exciting as it was only the second time I’ve taken the Indian Summer out and we went quite a bit farther this time.  Coming back in under the bridge we saw dolphins!!!  Unfortunately, we didn’t get any photos of them because it was about that time that Javier lost his lunch overboard.  He has the dubious honor  of being the first person to throw up on the boat and I have to thank him for aiming overboard!  Hmm, perhaps he’s learned a new form of calling dolphins?

  We then went over to picnic and nap on Angel Island.  I didn’t think I’d have any photos of that (more foreshadowing) because my camera is … incapacitated, but due to the wonders of technology, some shots were salvaged.

Then we stole one of the trams and took it for a joy ride around the island.  That is the beauty of having a boat - we can get to Angel Island after all the park employees have left for the day.  Hmm.  Its a government park, so is stealing the tram a felony?

Kathy drove, I’m going to say I was hijacked.  Yeah, that’s my story.

I think it was a great sail, and I’m loving the new dock.

The Second of July, Moving Day.

I said farewell to Cheech, Crystal Meth Dude, No Teeth Woman, and headed North with my trusty crew of Anna and Caroline.  We left the Oyster Point wind tunnel in fog and sailed towards the sun.

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We heeled way over, almost lost Caroline (that’s why her hair’s all wet), did lose Anna’s hat (I wanted to use the experience as a man-overboard drill but was outvoted), and spent quite a bit of time doing photo shoots. 

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I don’t recommend posing on the front of the boat facing back the way I did - I now have a pitch black, 5×3 inch (yes, I measured it) bruise on my butt from hitting the anchor cleat.  It was really tricky trying to explain that in the doctor’s office a few days later.

We sailed under the Bay Bridge, past Alcatraz, saw the Golden Gate Bridge, past Angel Island, and drank wine out of hurricane glasses.

Eventually, we made it safely into Sausalito, and I did a quite respectable docking.  This is good - my new dock neighbors didn’t see me during the learning months and hopefully will never see me miss the dock.  I’ll let them laugh at me for other reasons, like the one which occurred on the 4th of July and I’ll write about later.

Arrival in Sausalito, ie, moving up in the world.

My poor Indian Summer has been sadly neglected due to all the unfortunate incidents lately.  However, I hope to check her out Saturday and take her for a spin Sunday.

In the meantime, my recovery was helped along by Chris and Ken, who took me out on the Sirena on Sunday.  After 10 days in the hospital, being on the Bay was heaven.  It made me feel so much better - I’m a real person again.

We didn’t make it out the Golden Gate Bridge due to uncooperative winds, currents and us spending too much time staring at windsurfers.  We then turned around and went to Angel Island after most other boats had gone home.  Chris even trusted me enough to let me dock the boat at Ayala!  I didn’t hit anything either.

Sailing on the Indian Summer is going to be delayed until I find a new place to live (I don’t want to wind up being a live-aboard).

However, on Sunday I was fortunate enough to be able to go along as crew (and provide extra crew) for Chris V. on the Sirena/Nova Gina – SFGN Fleet Boat #1

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This weekend was the official opening of “the Season.”   What this means is a bunch of drunk-ass weekend warriors get their boats off the docks for the first time this year, try to run into each other for a few hours, then put their boats back at the docks again until the 4^th of July.  After the 4^th, boats stay in until Labor Day weekend.  I don’t ever want to be that type of sailor.  Their boats make me sad.

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Sunday was bright, sunny and windy.  Kathy, Anna and I showed up at 1 pm with lots of Diet Coke and Smithwicks (I’m very, very happy that it can now be bought in America).  After a successful de-docking, we headed out the channel with Skipper Chris at the helm and me serving as aft-seat driver.  Chris was thrilled to be the envy of all the guys around, sailing with 3 chicks.

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Sailing on the main alone, we went over towards the GG Bridge, but not all the way to it, as some things must be saved (plus, we didn’t want Anna to have a heart attack).    Turns out Kathy could have quite a secondary career as a stewardess – for her first time on a sailboat, she caught on really quickly to her appropriate role, namely, making sure the skipper and first mate are happy.  Slow jib, then headed on a run towards Angel Island.  We never did manage to “put that bitch on her side,” probably because we only had the one official member of the SFGN aboard.  Even if we had been able to heel over that far without alarming the remainder of the crew, it just wouldn’t have been official without more queens – I’m just a princess (being hetero, I’m just sort of an adjunct member of the SFGN, even though Chris said that I can be their Admiraless).

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We sailed past what we think was one of Larry Ellison’s boats and made lots of rude comments.  We got the main down prior to entering Ayala Cove, and managed a beautiful docking, with Chris at helm and me hanging off the port bow giving largely inaudible and unhelpful direction such as “Turn! Turn!  Get further away, no closer, no further, no closer, OK, whatever!”  I got the bow secured and a stranger helped out with the stern, and in great spirits we went ashore to explore this strange place and lay claim for civilization.  Anna, Chris and I ogled the boys while Kathy recuperated from the big adventure.

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We never did manage to find any of the other adventurers we had heard were supposed to be rendezvousing at Angel Island.  Apparently, they all went to the mainland early to drink.  Well, except for Skye.  She’s too young.  And Miles.  Who went to church.  But whatever.  You get the point.  We returned triumphantly as the sun was setting in the West, to be met at the dock by a fellow who pointed out that the anchor had come loose and damaged the bow.  I was really impressed by how calmly Chris took it.  Me, I would have cried, but he seemed to take it in stride.  It must have slipped out of its hooks sometime between Ayala Cove and Sausalito as in photos at Ayala it is clearly fine.

I’m finally getting there with the battery holder.  I’ve got well-varnished (to protect from water damage) boards firmly attached in the locker with West Marine battery do-hickeys firmly attached to the boards and the batteries firmly attached to the do-hickeys.  Now, I can switch back and forth between batteries without moving them around – much safer and easier.  Major sense of accomplishment.

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I’ve removed more boards for varnishing.  Its still raining though, so who knows when I’ll get to do it.

The boat across the way – still sinking.  Slowly.

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I’m going to start showing this picture and telling people it’s my boat.  It isn’t.  It’s a close up of a boat I pass on the way to mine.   I thought the boat couldn’t get any worse last summer when it was simply covered in green mold.  Now its sprouting.   I’m a little surprised the plant doesn’t have 5 leaves in a circular pattern.

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If it doesn’t stop raining soon, this boat will be the first step on the way to Waterworld- growing plants on boats.

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The rain is starting to drive me mad.  I WANT TO GO SAILING.