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In this issue:
- Upcoming Events
- CSC News Flash
- Way Back When ... On the Rocks
- Kedging towards K, L, M
- Crusty's Corner
- Contacting the Editor: need work hours?
Upcoming Events at Cal Sailing Club
Clinics and Workshops are open to all current CSC members. Send your ideas for future clinics and workshops to the [rear_commodore@cal-sailing.org]. Watch for notices posted on the CSC email discussion list and at the clubhouse for details on all upcoming events at CSC.
Visit the events calendar on the CSC website for descriptions of the events listed below.
- November 2 OPEN HOUSE, 1 - 4 pm
- November 2 ExComm meeting. 6:30pm at the clubhouse. Open to all members.
- November 6 GENERAL MEMBERSHIP MEETING. 7pm at the Berkeley Yacht Club, 1 Seawall Dr. at the Berkeley Marina (next to "O" Dock). Free, delicious dinner and dessert and a no host bar will be on tap along with election of club officers, updates on the Antrim project and rebuilding the clubhouse.
- November 16 Cruise to Mile Rock. Skippers Sypko Andreae and Kent Moriarty. 9:00am, advance signup required.
- November 16 ExComm meeting. 6:30pm at the clubhouse. Open to all members.
- November 30 ExComm meeting. Time TBA at the clubhouse. Open to all members.
- December 14 OPEN HOUSE, 1 - 4 pm
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November 6, 1:00 pm-2:45 pm
November 20, sailing lessons tentative, pending senior skipper availability
November 24, 1:00 pm-3:15 pm
Do you miss out on workshops or cruise sign-ups because you learned about them too late? Join our listserve, an email discussion list, for announcements about club activities, lessons, and work hours. To subscribe send a blank message to [cal-sailing-subscribe@yahoogroups.com]
CSC News Flash
Pomp and Circumstance
Break out the champagne from the CSC cellars, we have two new senior skippers this month! Congratulations and we wish them many happy days of keelboat sailing adventures.
Will Lowe, Sr. Skipper.
Allan Arrowsmith, Sr. Skipper.
CSC T-Shirts for sale at General Membership Meeting
Jane will be selling CSC t-shirts at the General Membership Meeting on November 6. The t-shirts are made by Patagonia from 100% organic cotton, and they are available in three styles - both long sleeve and short sleeve. Prices range from $20 to $30 and all proceeds benefit the Cal Sailing Club. Contact Jane at [cscxtras@yahoo.com] for more information.
Merchandise Samples and Catalogs at General Membership Meeting
Jane will have samples of Aquata and Magic Marine merchandise, plus the Douglas Gill Close-Out price list, the O'Neill catalog and Aquata and Magic Marine catalogs on hand at the General Membership Meeting. Quantities are limited so act quickly to take advantage of these great discounts for CSC members. There is a $3 handling fee for each item and orders must be prepaid by check or cash. Jane will be accepting orders at the meeting.
Special Discounts for CSC Members
Okay, everyone knows that CSC membership is an amazing deal because you can learn to sail or windsurf for only $50. Well the truth is that if you take advantage of one of the many discount offers below, your membership pays for itself in a huge way. As a CSC member you can purchase some amazing merchandise for as little as 14% of the retail price. So what are you waiting for? Treat yourself to some good gear at the end of the season. Buy holiday gifts for family and friends. But act quickly because quantities are limited. Contact Jane or Saul at [cscxtras@yahoo.com] to place your order. There is a $3 handling fee for each item and orders must be prepaid by check or cash.
Cal Sailing Club sincerely thanks each of our sponsors for these generous discounts:
DOUGLAS GILL www.gillna.com foul weather gear, fleeces, boots, and more. The latest closeout deals from Douglas Gill are hot off the press.
AQUATA www.aquatausa.com is offering amazing deals on their own labels and special deals from Magic Marine. Sale items include life jackets, sailing pants, sailing gloves, harnesses, bags, boots, rash guards, and sailing outwear of all types.
O'NEILL www.oneill.com wetsuits and accessories can be purchased at special prices.
SVENDSEN'S www.svendsens.com/store All current card holding members continue to get wholesale discount on all purchases at their store situated at 1851 Clement Avenue, Alameda.
BERKELEY BOARDSPORTS http://www.boardsports.com/ All current, card-carrying members get a 10% discount on all cash or check purchases (8% with Visa or MC) at their store situated at 1601 University Ave, Berkeley. Please support them--they supply most of CSC's equipment at wholesale!
Way Back When ... On the Rocks by Neil Larson
In the late 1950's back before the Cal Sailing Club (then called the UC Yacht Club) owned Lidos, the club's dinghy fleet consisted of four cold-molded, plywood, open (no deck) International 14 planing dinghies. The Club had three skipper ratings, "Inside Skipper," "Outside Skipper," and "110 Skipper." Inside Skippers were limited to sailing inside the marina harbor and Outside Skippers were permitted to sail in the triangle formed by the second break in the Berkeley Pier, the Berkeley Reef and the harbor mouth. The 110 Skipper rating was similar to the Cruising Skipper rating we have today.
I became an Inside Skipper by sailing almost every day during the summer of 1958. In the early fall I was checked out as an Outside Skipper and eventually as a 110 Skipper. As a side note, Gary Mull, who later became a world-famous yacht designer, also learned to sail and was rated as an Inside Skipper that same summer in the club.
Before the harbor breakwaters were installed, a favorite show-off sailing area for the I14's was just off the sea wall between the harbor mouth and the Berkeley Pier. The waves were bigger there, and the actions in the boats could easily be seen from the shore. But the club had no rescue skiff or day-leader protection. Which meant that Outside Skippers had to learn what to do in an emergency if something broke or the skipper made a mistake and the boat was about to go on the rocks.
If a paddle or anchor was missing from the boat, then skippers were instructed to drop sails, raise the centerboard, remove the rudder and jump overboard! They would wait until they could touch bottom, then hold onto the stern and point the bow into the wind and waves, all while keeping the boat off the rocks - which could quickly do more damage than just scratch the varnish.
A second option, in theory, was to recruit another I14 to come to the rescue by sailing as close by as possible, tossing a line to the distressed boat then towing it away from the seawall. In practice, however, the only line in the rescue sailboat was the main sheet. So the trick was to sheet the main in as tight as possible, then hope the following happened.
You would sail close enough so your crew could pick up the bow line of the stranded boat and quickly tie it to the free end of the main while you (the rescuing skipper) tried to sail away from the rocks ... with low boat speed, without going into irons, with no control of your main sheet, while dragging another boat, and also ready to cast off instantly if needed.
Of course if this failed, someone eventually would notify the harbormaster who would come out to tow the boat off the rocks to safety … which is why the club now has dayleaders and rescue skiffs.
To celebrate such skilled feats of 45 years ago, perhaps the next thing beyond rudderless sailing is experimenting with trying to rescue another Lido using your main sheet as a towline. But please try it away from a rocky shore.
For more "Way Back When" memories, read Neil's story from the June Floating Bottle.
Kedging towards K, L, M by Dave Cary
"Push the tiller away from you now," I told the Open House guest at the helm, a 10-year old birthday girl according to her mom. We were about ready to tack back for K dock, headquarters for the day's Berkeley Bay Festival rides which were mostly inside the harbor. As the tiller moved to leeward and Daisy started to slowly head up from our close reach course, I felt myself slightly, almost imperceptibly leaning towards the bow, being pulled towards the bow actually. It took maybe 5 seconds before my normal balance returned.
It didn't last long, but I recognized the feeling immediately. We were plowing through the mud. Instinctively I looked around for the centerboard downhaul to release it, but this wasn't a Lido. I looked down at the water. The boat wasn't making waves anymore. I looked at the dock pilings of E dock, and they weren't moving relative to the background. "We've run aground," I announced.
I was immediately filled with thoughts of disbelief and denial. How could that be? Wasn’t the water supposed to be more than 10 feet deep in the marina? We were less than a boat length past the shore-side end of E dock and still several boat lengths away from shore. The water didn't seem that low. But we weren't moving.
"So what do we do now," asked the birthday girl's mom, "wait for the tide to come up?" It sounded to me like the voice of experience. I realized I hadn't checked the timing or heights of the tides. I didn't even have my seabag with me, where I kept my tide book. Was the tide going up or down right now? My lack of preparation reminded me why things so commonly go wrong when we least expect them.
"No, we'll get out of this," I said with attempted confidence, although a plan was only beginning to form in my mind. Daisy didn't have a motor on, and I began to doubt one would be of help. Could I throw a rope to someone on the dock just a couple boat lengths away? I scanned the docks, but didn't see anyone. Maybe I was going to have to kedge.
I've successfully kedged before, but that was on a small, light Lido, not a big heavy Commander. Even then it was a lot of work. Down in the cabin I found the anchor. It was a lot bigger and heavier than a Lido anchor, plus it had several feet of thick heavy chain. This was going to be hard to throw. I brought the anchor and some anchor line up on deck and we lowered the jib so the entire foretriangle was clear.
My next task was to set the anchor to the port side of the bow as far away as possible. I tell students to never deploy an anchor by dropping or throwing it overboard. Lower it gently, anchor first, then chain and line following. That keeps things under control, makes sure that nobody gets wrapped in the anchor line and pulled overboard, and avoids the anchor getting fouled in its own line so its flukes won't catch in the mud. But today I wasn't going to follow my own advice.
Since I'm left handed, I coiled some extra anchor line in my right hand. In my left hand I grabbed the anchor chain about a foot from the anchor. That way I wouldn't get cut on any sharp edges and I'd keep all my fingers on my hand when I threw the anchor and let go. I faced the mast and my crew. They were all on the edges of their seats, watching me closely. I guess this still counted as entertainment.
I swung the anchor back and forth several times, and then with a giant side-arm swing of my arm and body, flung the anchor up and out across the water, tossing the coil of line from my right hand so it could follow. The anchor plopped down in the water about 15 feet from the boat. It looked like a good throw. I waited for the anchor to settle to the bottom and slowly started pulling on the anchor line to set the anchor.
The anchor dug in, but in the process, I also pulled it closer to the boat. The anchor line was now coming out of the water at about a 30 degree angle. "Good thing the water isn't any deeper here, or I wouldn't be able to set the anchor," I mused to myself. I pulled hard, but the boat didn't budge. I was purposely trying to pull close to the deck to minimize the upward angle of the anchor line. I adjusted my footing and leaned with a little more body weight, hoping the anchor wouldn't suddenly break free and send me tumbling backwards over the starboard side. Slowly the boat began to turn. I got a fresh grip and pulled again, and then again. By the time the anchor slowly broke free of the bottom, the boat had turned past head to wind and the anchor line was coming out of the water at more than a 45 degree angle. I turned to my crew, and confirmed, "It looks like this is going to work for us." I saw signs of relief on a few faces.
The anchor came up full of mud. If I did a left-handed throw for my second attempt, the crew would be given a spray of salt water and mud slung right across their faces. Instead, I balanced myself right at the bow, holding onto the forestay with my left hand and the anchor line with my right hand, with the anchor hanging down almost to the water. I swung the anchor back and forth in a vertical plane in wider and wider arcs, then, with a final big swing, heaved the anchor off to port.
The anchor didn't go quite as far this time, but after more pulling I was able to turn the boat around to a beam reach and pointing well towards deeper water and K dock across the harbor. After a third toss of the anchor, straight ahead this time, I was able to pull the boat forward and free from the mud. We started sailing again. The birthday girl seemed to have the helm under control and everyone else was smiling and/or leaning back in their seats again.
Maybe, it dawned on me now, it would have been easier to have just tried to back out, rather than turn the boat. And maybe I could have used the winches, instead of pulling directly from the bow.
As we sailed back to K dock, I wanted to make sure the birthday girl didn't leave with any misconceptions. "When we got stuck in the mud,” I explained to her, “you were doing a good job of steering the boat, you were steering us right where I'd asked you to go." "Yeah, I know," she responded, without a hint that she needed reassurance. But her mom apparently thought I was being too subtle. "What he means dear, is that it wasn't your fault that he got us stuck in the mud," she announced to the whole boat as much as to her daughter.
When we got back to the dock, everyone left with smiles on their faces. I wasn't sure if they were the usual we-had-fun smiles, or if they were I'm-glad-I'm-off-that-boat smiles or I'm-going-to-have-fun-telling-stories-about-this smiles. But they did leave smiling.
Crusty's Corner
The first spatters of rain have spawned fresh weeds, and it's ride a bike to work day for Crusty.
November marks the start of days cool enough to puff and pedal into the hills, but Crusty has taken alternative transit, parlaying a collection of castaway bus transfers into a busride up hill roads with a full crew of yelling urchins.
Then it was a long swoop down to the Marina on bike, bottles clinking in near-bursting pockets, grateful to hill folks who leave their garage doors open, but a bit miffed at their thoughtlessness for purchasing wine bottles with corks and bikes with strange gearshifts on the brake handles.
The next morning, the winebottles have all been beheaded and bled dry, and it's time to wobble along the bike path to another day of looking forlorn while holding someone's castoff cardboard sign. Crusty is getting pissed at the drivers' laughter, then reads that he's not only hungry, homeless, and willing to work, but pregnant to boot. A quick rip of the cardboard proves Crusty pro-choice.
Lunchtime and it's time to pedal up to Telegraph for sustenance, which comes in clear plastic. Somewhere between the rock and the hard biscuit, Crusty's bike gets stolen, which only becomes apparent to him after the third attempt to ride off on the hydrant he left the bike propped against.
No matter. There's a Ferrari double parked with the engine running.
Contacting the editor: Sherry Daniel
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