Cruising the Delta

Hey John.  Recognize this boat?

It is Sally.  The Albert Strange yawl “Wenda”, owned by Jake. 

My boat is directly in front.  We went on a 5-day cruise in the Sacramento River Delta area.

Hi John,

Sadly, no.  I had intended many more pictures but it didn’t work out. I had to bail after the second day.  After nearly losing the boat, sustaining significant damage and getting injured I had no choice.  Still not recovered nearly two months later. A series of errors, broken parts, high winds, strong currents and bad luck could have cost everything.  The last time I was in such a tight spot I was getting shot at.  I was once dismasted at sea with three kids onboard and it wasn’t this bad. 

So, while it would be quite a story, I don’t think it’s newsletter worthy.  Maybe one day.  It’s still too early and I haven’t yet figured out how exactly I messed this trip up so badly. In the meantime, I am determined to do it again. I am getting new sails, reattaching the stanchions which were ripped off, fixing the rudder and fuel line. I am fixing my radio which suddenly quit working. I am also rebuilding the bowsprit (nearly torn off). And repairing the keel, which is cracked.  Yeah, this sailing thing can be some serious sh** if you don’t watch it.  Just let one eye wander, just a bit and you could be in it deep.

Had I known what would happen in the next few hours I wouldn’t have had that grin on my face.

Blimey Dave it sounds dreadful I hope you haven’t done any serious damage to your person, you say you still haven’t recovered two months later?

How did Jake fare?

I have just had a look at the Sacramento River Delta on Google Earth, it looks great.

At least you are alive and the boat will repair. You say it is not worthy of the Newsletter but you write in such a punchy style I really hope you will let me share what little you have told me. Your readers await! My grandad used to say to me “Never grow old son” which of course I didn’t understand at the time, but I do now and I am reminded of it when I read about your adventure. Not much fun at the time but you haven’t grown old Dave!

As ever,

John

We took off about 9am down the Mokelumne and up the San Joaquin.  The river is about a mile or less wide here and we tacked in very light winds for most of the morning. We could see Sally up ahead gracefully sliding back and forth and like the greyhound she is, was quickly out of sight.  I wound up last with Bob and his catboat just ahead of me.  I was spending a lot of time teaching Chris how to tack, how everything worked and getting tangled in weeds and clearing the prop. My outboard motor is a long shaft and so to reach the prop you have to lean way out. I used to carry a hook to clear it from kelp when offshore but I didn’t bring it.    As the day wore on the winds got stronger and swell started to kick up. I had already reefed and we were moving along pretty good in about 20 knots of wind.  The other boats ahead had turned into Three Mile Slough that goes between the San Joaquin and Sacramento Rivers.  The wind coming out of this slough was probably gusting at around 30 knots.  Bob was up ahead about a quarter mile but had not turned. I was wondering what he was doing and why he wasn’t he tacking. Then it looked like he was gybing and then I realized he was stuck in the weeds.  I was about to call on my VHF, the one that worked. I had discovered earlier that morning that my fixed VHF no longer worked but luckily, I had brought my hand held as a spare.  I was reaching for the radio when the boat suddenly stopped and the main pushed her hard to port.  I quickly let out the mainsheet to spill the wind and righting the boat. Looking over the side, I instantly surmised our situation. While watching Bob, I had followed him into a huge raft of weeds. Looking up I saw the river bank about 100 yards to port lined with large jagged rocks.  From this point on, time stopped. I don’t know if the ordeal lasted 3 hours or 1 hour. So many things happened so quickly I had no time to think about it. The first thing I did was tell Chris to find a spot and sit down.  The wind was howling and sails were flapping loudly.  Even with the boom out to port the wind was quickly pushing us deeper into the weeds and closer to the rocks. I leapt back to start the motor which instantly clogged. With Chris hanging onto my belt and me leaning way out to reach the prop while trying not to go over the side in the pitching swell, I worked feverishly to clear it. I cleared it and restarted at least twice and each time we gained no ground. We were closing fast on the rocks. The wind was pushing us right across.  We were now about 50 yards away.  I had to get the sails down quickly which was not easy since the boom was way out to port.  With this done we had been pushed even closer now about 4 boat lengths.   I took a valuable 30 seconds to call Bob and ask for help.   Others in the group had heard the call and were calling me back but I had no time to answer. I grabbed the anchor, pulled as much line as I could and heaved it as far as possible.  There was no scope at all.  I snubbed it up. It had to hold and it did.  When it pulled the bow into the wind the stern was no more than six feet from rocks.  So, there we were 6 feet from giant jagged rocks, pitching in the swell, I guess 30 knots of wind with an anchor that would pull out at any moment.  I began once again to clear the prop of weeds with Chris hanging on my belt.  If I fell in now and I would be crushed between the boat and rocks.  I finally got the prop cleared and Chris pulled me back in.  I pulled the choke out, made sure it was in neutral, pulled on the starter rope and the fuel line broke. It parted right at the connection.  I sat back in disbelief.  I had no spare.  How could this happen right at this moment. I had no time to be confused so I just dropped it and forgot about it. I ran up to the bow to see if I could get anything on the anchor.  The rode was very steep. I dared not mess with it.  I could see Bob circling outside the weeds probably looking for a way in.  Picking up my radio I called him to see if he could tow us off and he was already planning on doing just that.  He had to go way around to find a path through and was probably 20 minutes before he could get to me but he was on the way.  Chris was in the stern. Looking back at him I could see his lips moving but could not hear over the wind. He was frantically pointing at something.  I yelled back “Yeah, I know we are close to the rocks”.  It was then that I saw the pipe.  Oh Crap!  As luck would have it, we had blown right onto a section of the bank that had about a 10” pipe coming down the rocks and where it entered the water rusty angle iron was attached to each side of it.  It ran along the starboard side of the boat about two ft. away.  How had we not already hit it?  Bob was now our only hope. He had now turned and was coming around the weeds toward us. I went up on the foredeck to catch his tow rope.  But he was approaching too close. I yelled at him to watch my anchor line but he saw it too late.  It snagged his keel, hopefully not his prop and then we had both boats in danger.  I could only watch as they frantically pried my anchor line away from his keel while drifting closer to me and the rocks. Finally, they were free and off.  Bob began to make the same big circle again.  My anchor was still holding and I had no idea how. Chris and I had a quick conversation about what to do if the anchor let go but I honestly don’t remember what we said.  Neither of us were scared.  There was simply no time for it.  The only two things that mattered were the pipe and the rocks, simple as that.  I looked up and saw my friend Mike Higgins tacking back and forth outside the weeds, looking over our progress.  There is no way he could help but just seeing him out there was amazing. What a great sight to behold. There is a sparkle to that little varnished catboat that was a beacon. Freedom was that close.  He must have sailed back three or four miles to be where he was. 

Bob was coming around again.  I now have the tow rope as the last time he had let it go and I hauled it in. I have one big 8” cleat on my bow for securing an anchor line and my line was tight around that cleat and I dared not mess with it.  If I’m going to get towed, the tow rope has to go on the same cleat, on top of the anchor line.  That means I will have to pull the anchor at the same time I’m getting towed off and I won’t be able to untie it from the cleat. This is going to take a lot of coordination and luck.  I am certain my anchor will be buried deep in the mud and will have to be broken free to get it up.  I will have to use the force of the tow, Bob’s boat, to break it free and if I am unable to get it up quickly it will just bury itself again. If I do get it up, I can’t untie it because the tow rope will be on top.  It will have to be just piled up on deck in a heap with all the chain, anchor and mud.  I call to Chris to get me a dock line to secure it with so I don’t lose it over the side but he can’t hear me over the wind. All this on a pitching foredeck, kneeling, with my arm around the forestay.  I’ll have one hand to get the anchor up and one hand to stay on the boat.   Who gets towed off an anchorage six feet from rocks in high winds.  No one.  Bob is coming around again, same path as before. I could see him trying to stay further out but the wind is pushing him. He yells at me “You got one chance to throw it.”  I yelled back grinning “And you got one chance to catch it”.  I coiled it up and heaved it as if he was twice as far. Perfect throw.  We both tied off and as the slack tightened, I began to haul on the anchor. It was stuck and Bob was pulling with everything he had. I began to reach for my knife and then it broke free. I quickly hauled it on deck but noticed we still had not moved. The keel was on the pipe.  The bow had not turned toward the tow.  Somehow it had wedged between the pipe and some other obstruction. While I was trying to figure out what to do about this new emergency it suddenly came loose with a jerk and was free.  I began to neaten up the foredeck as best I could and then I heard Bob yelling “Steer the boat!”.  I yelled back to Chris to steer and he yelled back and said “The rudder is off”. You can’t tow a boat with no rudder as the boat just yaws back and forth in a crazy uncontrollable way. It was the first time I noticed there was no rudder.  It was laying on the seat in the cockpit. I asked Chris why he took off the rudder and he said it was hitting the rocks and I said to take it off.  Sure enough, about 2” was ground off on the bottom of the rudder. As I said, things were happening quickly.  I set about attaching the rudder while underway, being towed.  If you’ve ever tried to install a rudder while underway you will realize it is nearly impossible. You have to fit the gudgeon (eye) into the pintle (spike). There are two, one on top and one on bottom and they are different lengths. One has to go in before the other. The rudder (heavy) is flying all over the place because the boat is underway.  We can’t stop because, well, we are too close to the rocks.  Finally, after a few dozen close encounters and Chris hanging onto my belt the gudgeons and pintles are one. We settle down to a steady tow and away from the rocks.  No more rocks, no more pipe.  I start cleaning some of the mud off the boat and we both have something to eat and some water which we had no time for just a few minutes earlier.  Pretty soon we are across the San Joaquin and turn into Three Mile Slough.  We are maybe 30 minutes into being towed when we notice black smoke out of Bob’s exhaust.  Bob’s water pump has quit and his engine has overheated.  Now we are two disabled boats tied together in the middle of a shipping channel.  Tugs and small tankers sometimes use this channel as a shortcut between the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers. We both toss out our anchors. Because we were tethered together and because of opposing tide, current and wind this produced a dangerous predicament. Once again, we were in it.  My boat spun around with such force it sheared off all the stanchions on the port side and splintered my bowsprit.  Pretty soon the boat found some equilibrium and we settled down in the lee of Bob’s boat.  Chris and I started putting some attention on the gas line. We soon figured out how to fix it. I took the plastic dart and whittled it down so it fit the inside of the hose and taped the whole thing together. Easy peasy. Why didn’t we do this hours ago?  There was simply not a calm second to come up with the idea. Too much chaos. We slipped it on and the motor started right up. I yelled over to Bob and told him we now had the engine back on line and asked him if he would like a tow.  He yelled back “We don’t need no stinking tow! We’re sailors.”  Bob had talked to one of the other guys in the group who had a son that worked in a parts store nearby. They had 5 of what he needed in stock and they were going to drive it down to a pier on Three Mile Slough.  Mike was picking it up as Chris and I sailed past on our way to Rio Vista.  On the way up the slough, we passed Sally and Jake headed back down to help Bob. Sally, on a beam reach, just leans over and flies. We made it the next 4 miles up the Sacramento River to Rio Vista and tied up at the guest dock.  Somewhere I had wrenched my back and could barely walk but I managed to make it to the pub where I bought drinks and dinner for Chris and Don, the only other one of our group who had made it this far.  I got a call from Mike who gave the good news that Bob was fixed and they were all anchored on the slough.  Jake had delivered the part he needed and climbed onboard and rebuilt his pump.  I told him I was calling it. Too much damage and I was injured. He told me not to feel bad about it, that the same thing that happened to him the first time he went.  I pulled out the next morning and noticed a big crack in my keel.  It’s possible that happened when it tore loose from the pipe. Hats off and thanks. I hope it was less exhausting to read than to write it all down.   Now you see why I was reluctant to tell the story.  Seaman of the year award goes to Bob.  Looking forward to going again.

Dave Ahrens