February 5, 2015

Pat Broderick of the Wyliecat 30 Nancy reports on his eventful Three Bridge Fiasco:

Nancy's 2015 Three Bridge Fiasco Log reads, "Three minutes before the scheduled start time at 09:48:45 when Nick Sands and I saw Uno, Arcadia, Whirlwind, and several other close competitors lining up for a Blackaller start. So we decided to follow them." This, even though it was apparent the majority of boats were heading for Yerba Buena and even a few directly up-Bay for Red Rock. But isn't that how it is at the end of January each year? Last minute decisions about which way to go and who to follow, followed shortly by second thoughts because going that direction begins to look bad? But first it looked good.

The reach down to Blackaller Buoy was aided by a nice high-single-digit northeast wind and the building ebb. The ebb-aided speed probably should have told us to begin "second thinking" sooner than later. But, being optimists, we enjoyed the 8-knot reading on the GPS and thoughts of how nice it would be to see "Nancy" engraved on the SSS Three Bridge trophy. A short name like "Nancy" would also save the SSS some bucks on the engraving! By Blackaller we'd already passed several boats and had closed the gap on others closer to the mark. Again, a reason to begin the "second thinking" sooner than later. Like, why were they slowing down to wait for us?

After rounding Blackaller (it's important in this narrative to remind everyone we did manage to round one mark and very smartly done, thank you!) we headed diagonally across toward Harding Rock, beating our way into the ebb. And then the wind died — for the first, but not for the last, time. When the wind finally came back out of the southeast we were closer to the Golden Gate Bridge than we'd planned, but not under it. And, we'd made our way far enough to the center that the dreaded South Tower was no longer a threat, although any ship happening by would be. Another "second thought" opportunity.

The threats were other boats drifting around in the swirling gyres with no control. After fending off one boat twice, once by walking its bow down and off our stern and the second time doing the same to its stern, and narrowly escaping several other transoms as they cartwheeled by, we found enough wind to get away from the pack. Now we were reaching across toward Marin, arcing our way up and over to Yellow Bluff, where the increased ebb awaited us. The wind came and went and came and went and finally settled in a generally westerly direction — when it "came."

Then the incoming ship arrived on the scene. We saw the bulky car carrier near Mile Rock, and as the awkward hull grew larger as the ship approached the Golden Gate Bridge, it became apparent our good luck at finding a little wind was in fact bad luck. It meant we and the car ship were going to arrive at the same point and the same time. The ship was moving rapidly and we were not, so we tacked away, heading mostly back to where we'd just come from, with enough wind to get there. After the ship cleared without five toots, we tacked back and enjoyed the increased wind speed for a few minutes. That's when I snapped the picture of smiling Nick at the helm, happily sailing us in front of those competitors who had not been so lucky with the bridge and the ship.

And so it went until 12:30 when we were still near Yellow Bluff among all those boats behind us in the picture who had used their chutes to play catch-up. Now it was more maneuvering to avoid boats with collapsed chutes when the wind died down and faster boats with chutes when the wind piped up. Some on port. Some on starboard. About 12:35 the boat just to leeward on a starboard tack began to shout and wave wildly at us. We couldn't understand what they were saying. We weren't that close, but we figured the smart thing to do was tack onto starboard, too. And that's when the real "log" entered our Fiasco story.

What the boat was waving and yelling about was a crooked 10-ft limb about 6 inches in diameter floating just at surface level. We tacked and ran over it with a loud clunk, felt the boat lurch, and when we looked back to see what we'd hit, nothing was there. Instead there was a steady beat drumming against the hull. The log was wedged between the keel and the rudder, with one end sticking out on the port side under the cockpit just far enough for us to see it bobbing around as Nancy labored in the bouncy gyres created by the ebb. The boat hook didn't work. Several tacks and jibes didn't work. Prayer didn't work. So on went the outboard and our 2015 Fiasco ended with a real fiasco. All "second thinking" ceased.

We motored slowly against the ebb into Richardson Bay, dragging the crosswise log along as it pounded against the hull at every small wave or wake. We motored past a San Francisco YC Whaler overseeing a group of kayakers practicing heavy ebb paddling and asked him to come over and take a look. He confirmed we had a log under the boat. Two opinions are always better than one. Near the Sausalito sewer plant we turned up the speed and wiggled the boat back and forth. Soon, with a loud thump the tiller jerked out of my hand accompanied by the high speed outboard whine as the engine popped out of the water and the log surfaced behind us. As we motored away it looked like a large 'gator waiting to snap up one of those unaware kayaks.

Back at Clipper Yacht Harbor our neighbor Randy Grenier was just beginning to dive and clean his bottom for Sunday's Sausalito YC Midwinter Race. We asked him to swim over and take a look. He didn't see any damage and all three blades on the outboard were accounted for, so we considered ourselves lucky.

The final entry in Nancy's 2015 Fiasco Log is about a log. Another great Fiasco and one that ended with a real fiasco.

— Pat Broderick, Nancy, Wyliecat 30