Voyage of the Estrella de Oro from Sacramento to Berkeley

On October 21, 2017, at approximately 11:30 a.m., the Estrella de Oro, a
Californian 34 coasting yacht built in Anaheim, California, almost forty years
ago, cast off from her moorings at K-dock, slip-41 in the Sacramento
Marina. The Estrella de Oro had stayed the last two years and four months
in the Sacramento Marina. I had lived aboard her, even for awhile as
a "sneak-aboard," for most of that time. Then I met and hired a not-so-young,
but free-spirited man named Michael Curtis. Michael knew far more about
boats than I did, and the first time I met him, I liked him because when I
mentioned I didn't have a car, and proudly added, "and I've never had a car,"
Michael said I was "car-free." I had never heard that phrase, but thought
it describes the situation precisely. He didn't own or drive a car either, though
it sounds like he's not above riding in them. So, I got to know Michael.

 I offered him twenty bucks an hour, my rate for fixing computers, if he would 

work on fixing up the boat. Eventually, I let him move onto the Estrella de Oro
at no charge because he was doing such a good job fixing up the boat. He fixed
and maintained the water system, the electrical system, and, above all, the
engines. He was a nautical man who seemed to prefer a sailboat to a powerboat,
such as the Estrella de Oro, which has twin diesel engines. And he clearly had an
affinity for the sea. He even knows the nautical terms, that I just couldn't bring
myself to learn. He'd say "transom," and I'd ask, "'Transom?' Why don't they just
call it the back of the boat?" "Because that's its name," he calmly replied.
But I couldn't do all that he could. I would have had to have hired a bunch
of mechanics to accomplish what he did. So, in exchange for his nautical
knowledge and skill, he was living rent free, as he seemed to have done in the
past. That's my idea of a free spirit.
I was tired of living on the boat, anyway. I had an apartment in Sacramento
that had a wonderful shower. It's nice when you're on a boat that you can take
hot showers. I enjoyed a hot shower practically every night I stayed on the
Estrella de Oro. I especially enjoyed the shower because the boat had supplied
the hot water. I could have been out on the ocean, and I still would have been
able to take a hot shower. That's independence. It's a good feeling. But on shore,
thanks to the power company and water company, you get about ten times as
much water as you do with a shower on a boat. On a boat the feeling of
independence makes up, somewhat, for the smaller quantity of hot water.
An ex-Navy man told me that showers in the Navy were, and probably still are,
rather paltry affairs, too. Fresh water is precious at sea, especially if you have to
make or carry it.
At any rate, the new coat of paint on the hull was dry, the boat looked
shipshape, maybe even, as Michael called it, "Shipshape and Bristol fashion."
The engines were purring, and Skipper Michael was at the helm. As the owner
and captain, I had provisioned the voyage, I'd paid all the taxes, paid for
supplies, paid the "slip" fees. Now it was my turn to take videos. They are
included in this narrative.
We left around noon, Saturday, Oct. 21.
VIDEO 1 Entering Sacramento River

   We went smoothly down the Sacramento River at around eight or nine knots, 

Michael's dinghy trailing twenty-five feet behind. I'm not sure what knots are. I think
one knot an hour is a little more than one mile an hour.
VIDEO 2 On our way

   We stopped at the Sherwood Harbor marina for fuel and to pick up some 

final food and snacks and then were on the river again. The day was beautiful—
sunny, but not too hot. There was hardly a cloud in the sky. We had no idea how
far we would go that first day. We figured to reach Berkeley by the next day, but
we didn't know when. I just wanted to stop for a short visit in Walnut Grove, but
I figured we'd go well beyond there before stopping for the night.
VIDEO 3 An hour into the voyage

   We reached Walnut Grove by mid-afternoon. We tied up to the guest dock, 

the same guest dock at which the Estrella de Oro had stopped for the night, when
I brought it up from San Mateo, having paid the seller to skipper the boat upriver to
Sacramento. Michael and I walked around the town, seeing the antique houses. We
passed a pizza parlor, where the former owner, a friend of his, and I had eaten
supper on the evening we reached Walnut Grove on the trip up from San Mateo.
This time I especially looked for and found a Traditional Japanese Bathhouse.
On the way up, the bathhouse had been closed, though I found a brochure describing
the prices. This time, the place was open for business, and I talked with the proprietor.
It was now an Airbnb host, and one could rent a room. Among the artifacts in the
bathhouse, we saw an old rickshaw, probably brought from Japan, where rickshaws
were invented in the mid-1800's.
In some old Walnut Grove streets, we saw little three or four inch iron rings
embedded in and sticking up out of the sidewalk. A passerby told us they were for
tying horses to. It was an old town that hadn't changed much physically. Michael
and I stopped to eat a late lunch of a tasty ice cream cone each, and soon we were
on our way again, going down the river.
VIDEO 4 Walnut Grove

   We passed under a few bridges. One bridge was so low, we weren't sure we 

could go under it. In fact, when we did go under, Michael reached up and touched
it with his hand. We passed docks that had gates, and we wondered if those were
private docks. We passed several small towns.
The river gradually widened, and the sun began going down. We had maybe
an hour and half of sunlight left, and we started to seriously wonder where to stay
for the night. Rio Vista seemed to be the next "big" town with a marina and a
probable guest dock, but Michael wanted to go farther. I didn't care too much one
way or the other, but I didn't want to be on the river after the sun set. Rio Vista
seemed fine to me. We'd probably find a decent restaurant there. I felt we didn't
need to rush or push it. Enjoy the trip. If it takes an extra day or two, that's life.
Any potential dispute was settled, however, when the port engine suddenly
stopped working. Michael had no desire to drive the boat on one engine; he
especially didn't want to try maneuvering into a marina on only one working
engine. Two engines are much better than one for steering—if both engines are
working. If one engine isn't working, the good engine is not in line with the center-
line of the boat. If you can only have one engine working, then it should be at the
middle of the transom. With two engines, but only one working, the problem of
steering is much more difficult than with just one engine.
We saw what we thought should be Rio Vista and looked for the marina the
chart said was there. We found it, but Michael was reluctant to attempt to
maneuver into its narrow opening on one engine. Fortunately we saw a boat
that Michael said was the police. He called to them and told them about our
plight. They pointed to a guest dock attached to a restaurant overlooking the
river and said we could tie up there.
Since the police said we could, we stopped and secured the boat to the
restaurant's dock. That was much easier than trying to enter the narrow marina.
We were grateful to the restaurant and went in. We met a young woman who
was either the head waitress or some kind of manager. We asked if we could
stay the night tied to the restaurant's dock. She went to ask the owner and in a
minute or so returned saying we could. But, she cautioned us, "When the
restaurant closes, the gate will be locked, You won't be able to get off the boat
and reach land by going through the restaurant." We had no intention of leaving
the boat other than to have a meal, and we gladly accepted the restaurant's
hospitality.
Michael and I then proceeded to have one of the tastiest meals I've had, and
Michael said he'd had, in a long time. Hunger and breathing fresh air, no doubt,
helped the flavor. During the meal, Michael began trying to figure out why the
port engine had gone out and how to start it again. He said it had to be the fuel
system and felt the culprit was either the fuel filter or the fuel pump. By the time
we'd finished, the sun had already set, and darkness was overcoming the sky. A
thin crescent moon was hovering lovingly above the western horizon, and the
sky was turning dark.
Michael went below to the engine room, and I made my bed on the flybridge
so I could see the stars. I was planning to use a couple ensolite pads that I'd often
used when camping in my younger days, but Michael had the good idea of using
the foam mattress from the port V-berth. We brought the mattress up to the
flybridge, and I had a most comfortable bed below me and a clear night sky
above.
The only problem was the restaurant left a light on all night. However, that
was the only light pollution, and I could block out that light by a careful
arrangement of my backpacks and deck chairs. The sky grew darker; the stars,
like long-lost friends, came back to greet me, and I recognized several constellations.
I could easily see the Milky Way Galaxy, which is all I ask.
We were tired, and before long, we each hit the sack, Michael in the master cabin,
and I on the flybridge. I don't know how much I slept. I woke often throughout the
night, enjoying gazing at the stars. I hadn't camped under the stars in too long to
remember how long it's been. It felt great. I passed into and out of sleep most of the
night.
A few times the boat rocked quite violently. Some ship must have been passing
in the dark, or an earthquake was occurring nearby. Usually, a boat that can raise
big waves is one that's going fast. But a heavy-enough boat can make big waves
even though it's going slow. There was no sound when the violent rocking began.
So, it wasn't a speeding boat. I assume it was a heavily laden barge ship going
smoothly and silently by. I saw one such barge pushed by a tugboat during the day.
It made no noise, but that barge displaced a lot of water.
VIDEO 5 Rio Vista morning

I woke the next morning, a little tired, but refreshed and happy. I saw Venus, 

the Morning Star, in the eastern sky a little before the sun made its appearance and
considered it a good omen. I took a walk on the dock before Michael was up or the
restaurant was open. I met a couple men in a small single-engine putt-putt boat.
Their boat was less than ten feet long, a boat you don't have to register with the
state or the Coast Guard. They looked like fishermen. As they coasted in close to
the dock, I called to them, softly so as not to break the general silence of the morning,
"I trust you fellows have been to early church?"
One, who was standing upright in the boat with a fishing pole in his hands, replied,
"This is my church and my religion. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it."
"If you can't worship here," I laughed, "you can't worship anywhere,"
We exchanged pleasantries, and I told them of our problem. One of them
suggested I might find a fuel pump at the marine center about a block from the
restaurant. But since this was Sunday morning, it might not be open. I wished them
luck in their fishing, and they drifted off silently in their little putt-putt rowboat.
Since the previous evening's meal had been so delicious, Michael and I had
breakfast at The Point, which we learned was the name of the restaurant. It was
another treat, this time featuring delicious hash browns. Michael ordered the same
as I, but he additionally asked for some hot sauce. He had awoken with a dry throat,
and the medicine he used for it was hot sauce.
Over eggs, bacon, sausage and hash browns, Michael said he was pretty sure he could start the engine. He was going to use some trick, involving a gasoline soaked rag, he had learned while working in an oilfield in Texas. After breakfast, we walked over to a store featuring lots of marine items. I bought a white hose, which Michael said was the best hose for filling the water tank, and some fuel stabilizer. We came back to the Estrella de Oro, and Michael prepared to start the engines. To our great satisfaction they both started, and we steered over to the marina and filled up both diesel fuel tanks. We were back on the river, heading southwest by ten a.m. As the river widened, we began to see windmills off our "starboard," or right, side.
VIDEO 6 Last view of Sacramento River

   By the afternoon we had passed hundreds of large windmills.

VIDEO 7 Windmills.

   We were going through the complicated part of the trip. There were military 

installations on our port side along in this area. I knew we had to stay far to the
starboard. I remembered a man in the San Mateo Yacht Club saying, "Coast Guard
vessels will come out and stop your boat if enter a restricted area." So, I definitely
wanted to stay away from the installations and cities, such as Pittsburg and
Antioch.
VIDEO 8 Pittsburg

   Fortunately, Michael got us through with no problems. We saw several seals 

resting on the red and green marker buoys that dot the river. Two years ago, on
the trip up, I learned to steer between the red and green marker buoys. If you do
that, you're probably going to be all right. Going down-river, the red maker buoys
should be on your left side, and the green buoys should be on your right. The
buoys are numbered and show you where you are on the charts. Two pairs of seals,
a pair on the green buoy and a pair on the red one called to us. We clapped and
tried to answer back. But I seriously doubt if seals and humans have anything of
importance to say to one another.
VIDEO 9 Seals

   As we approached Martinez, we went under the Benicia-Martinez Bridges, the 

new bridge, the railroad bridge, and the old bridge.
VIDEO 10 Three bridges Benicia-Martinez

   The afternoon was getting on, and I was for putting in at Martinez. I like Martinez, 

especially the climate. But, once again, Michael wanted to go further. There was still
an hour or two of sunlight, and he thought we could probably find a marina closer
to the bay, possibly Vallejo. I knew the lights and sounds in the Vallejo area would
preclude good gazing at the stars, and I put my foot down against staying in Vallejo.
Michael agreed that he didn't particularly like Vallejo either. But there didn't seem
to be many places between Martinez and Berkeley except Richmond. However, once
again, the port engine stepped in and decided for us.
Just past the bridges and past a big tanker at Martinez, few hundred yards upriver
from the Martinez Marina, the port engine went out again! Michael didn't want to try
entering the marina on one engine. So, he gave me the helm and went hurriedly
below to try and start the engine. I steered towards the marina, then back out to
deeper water, and then back in, staying in front of the Martinez Marina until Michael
got the port engine running. I guess he used the gas-dipped rag trick again.
On two engines, we pulled up to the guest dock. I went ashore to the marina
office and paid for a guest slip and gate key.
VIDEO 11 Harbormaster Martinez

   The slip was close to the land and close to the office.

VIDEO 12 Dock at Martinez

   Michael and I then rode our scooters around the park that stretches along 

Martinez's shore. We were getting closer to the wide open waters that Michael
loved. He marveled at the shoreline park. People seemed friendly in Martinez.
Two young Oriental women were walking their dog. They commented that
scooters are a neat way to travel.
When we returned to the boat, Michael wanted to do his laundry. So, I made
my bed and ate rye bread, pork and beans, and real apple juice for dinner. In a
way, it was a comedown from the previous evening's meal, but it tasted good,
hunger and breathing fresh air being major ingredients of flavor. Soon after the
sun went down I could see that Martinez had much more light pollution than
Rio Vista. I couldn't see the Milky Way Galaxy, but I slept well. The marina,
protected by a sea wall, was very calm compared to actually being on river, as
we had been the night before.
I awoke refreshed and ready to leave as soon as Michael roused himself.
VIDEO 13 Sunrise at Martinez

   I wanted to reach Berkeley, hopefully by noon. I had calculated that we had 

over forty miles to go. I really didn't see how we could make Berkeley by the
afternoon, much less by noon. I had a dental appointment the following day,
and I was beginning to doubt I could meet the schedule I had set. I considered
calling and canceling the appointment. That would cause a cascade of
cancellations of other meetings that I had planned. I'd have to make four or
five other calls and cancellations as well. But I was beginning to think that
would be the best.
I ate a quick breakfast and then went over to the marina restroom. I wanted to take a
shower. But at first, I couldn't see any shower. I saw a possible door to a shower. My key turned the lock, but the door only opened an inch or so. I walked over to the nearby bait and grocery store, where I thought I'd find someone who worked for the marina who could explain where the shower was.
On the porch of the bait store, I met a man I took to be a real nautical man, like Michael, but older, an "Old Salt." I asked him where I could find a diesel fuel pump. He said, "Not around here." I asked, "How about the Eagle Marine store just up the road?" He replied, "You can try it, but I doubt if they'll have one." Actually, Michael had found a spare fuel pump, which might or might not work. I figured we should have a good one, just in case.
I went into the bait store and found a young woman organizing store items. I asked her where the showers were. She said she was new at the job and wasn't sure. She walked with me back out to the porch and asked the old salt. He said there was a room, just inside the door, which my key would open. I said I had tried that door and it wouldn't open. He said he didn't know, but that was the door to the shower.
I headed back toward the restroom, knowing where the shower should be. I called back to the old salt standing on the porch. "Maybe someone was taking a shower when I tried the door before." He replied, "That's it. I think I saw someone walking away from there who looked like he'd just taken a shower." I went back to the restroom, and this time my key opened the door. I took a refreshing shower.
I had risen with the sun, but Michael wouldn't be up for a while. I looked over the charts hoping to see how many miles we still had to go to reach Berkeley. I didn't see how we could make Berkeley by noon unless we left immediately.
But Michael, when he finally came out of his bedroom around nine o'clock, was in a troubled mood and hadn't slept well. He said, "We're resting on the bottom. That's not good for the boat!"
I hadn't noticed, but apparently, the Estrella de Oro was actually no longer floating. It was resting on the underlying ground consisting mainly of silt. The Garmin navigator and sonar depth finder on the flybridge was not indicating any water depth at all! It's not good for a boat to be resting on solid ground, even if that ground is soft accumulated silt. A boat is built to float, to be in water so its sides have support.
Michael was worried and angry at the harbor master's agent who had put us in our slip. There were plenty of other slips he could have put us in. I went to see the agent and told him our situation and asked him why he didn't give us a slip farther from land. He insisted that all the slips were silted; in fact, dredging was going on as we spoke. He concluded, "That's the Martinez Marina. It's not deep anywhere because of the silt."
While Michael continued to fume and eat something for breakfast, I decided to walk down to a marine supply store to see if they had a new fuel pump. They didn't have anything in the way of diesel products. On my way back to the boat, I again passed the old salt and asked him if we could get out of the marina with all the silt. He said confidently, "Sure. It's just silt. You'll go right though it" I stopped in at the office and turned in the dock key. I also picked up a tide chart. One of the dredge workers, a man in an outboard powered boat, gave me a short lift to the Estrella de Oro. I was ready to take off, since by this time it was after ten o'clock.
Michael was still worried about being able to move the boat. I checked the tide chart, and saw that low tide was at ten-thirty. The tide was still going out! If we waited for the tide to rise, we'd be there until the afternoon. I told Michael, "Let's just go. Let's try it." Michael wasn't happy, but he fired up the engines. They both worked. We backed out, and we could see we were stirring up mud. On the flybridge I watched the depth finder carefully. The Estrella de Oro has a draft of three point two feet. The depth finder registered three point five feet and sometimes less than three point two. But we made it out to the main channel, leaving a roiled trail of silty water. I let out the dinghy to the full length of its rope.
Once back on course, we headed west and soon went under the Carquinez Bridges, linking Crockett and Vallejo.
VIDEO 14 Carquinez Bridge

   I figured we still had thirty-five miles or more to go and would probably make 

Berkeley later in the day. While Michael charged ahead with the boat, I made a bunch of phone calls and canceled all appointments for the week. I felt much better. If I had to, I could stay on the boat all week, and my spirits lifted.
By noon the sky was blue, and the sun became hot. Michael chose to pilot the boat from the flybridge, since you get a better view of what's around you. I stayed on the flybridge part of the time, but I didn't stay in the sun long. It was intense, especially with the reflection off the water. I stayed in the salon below and pored over the charts.
I kept drinking bottles of water and bringing the same to Michael. But he was getting burned. For one thing he was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt. Eventually, he became so hot that he asked me to get him a lighter colored shirt from the foot locker. I searched but could find only a short-sleeved light-colored shirt. I felt sorry for him up there with the sun's rays, both from above and from the water below, on his arms. I figure a cabana-style square tent would help on sunny days on the flybridge.
I watched the shore. I'd enjoyed the scenic view of the water from the Amtrak Capital Corridor train many times before. But the shoreline was equally as beautiful from the water. Michael said the lone marina along in here, besides Richmond, where he didn't care to dock, was the San Pablo Marina. But according to Michael from YouTube videos he'd seen and from the charts as well, the San Pablo Marina has water to a depth of only one foot. That would probably vary with the tide. He said they make you sign a release before you can even dock there. After our Martinez escapade, neither of us much cared for that.
Besides, we were making pretty good time. We figured we would reach Berkeley sometime before the sunset. We could see the water had a brownish tint. The closer we got to the brown, the less the depth meter read. We headed back out to deeper water. It might be longer, but we figured we should stay in the main channel.
Sooner than I expected we rounded a point of land and passed from San Pablo Bay into San Francisco Bay. We came to an island with a lighthouse on it. It's called the East Brother Light Station and is a bed and breakfast.
VIDEO 15 East Brother Light Station bed and breakfast

   Then ahead we saw the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge.

VIDEO 16 Richmond-San Rafael Bridge

   At first, Michael seemed to be veering to the left, staying close to the land. But 

from the charts, I saw that an entire rectangular area was a regulated navigation area. I can't remember the wording, but it sounded to me like somebody didn't want us there. So, we went way around to the right. We passed underneath the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge, and I pointed out Red Rock Island off to our left
VIDEO 17 Underneath RSR Bridge, Red Rock Island

   I had ridden in a bus over that bridge many times when I was teaching in Novato. 

I remembered the island and wanting to explore it. The island has a red sandy beach that can be reached by boat. I've seen a boat anchored just off the island and a dinghy on the beach. I wondered what it'd be like to eat lunch on that red sandy beach. We continued past Red Rock Island, and I could see San Francisco in the distance.
VIDEO 18 San Francisco in the distance.

   A little later the Golden Gate Bridge hove into view. Though I couldn't make out any

details, I figured Berkeley would soon be visible.
VIDEO 19 San Francisco Bay past Richmond San Rafael Bridge

   Suddenly, the air became clearer, cooler, and fresher. The Golden Gate Bridge was 

off to our starboard. Through the Golden Gate was flowing fresh air, after twelve thousand miles of unpolluted Pacific Ocean. San Francisco was on one side and Marin County was on the other. The air was noticeably fresher and more invigorating than even five minutes before, and, I was soon to discover, five minutes later.
VIDEO 20 Fresh air

   As Michael cleaned up the boat, moving as hurriedly as I'd ever seen him move

before, I took the wheel. I was a little surprised when we passed Richmond; it seemed longer than I'd pictured it. But I was beginning to think that Berkeley was actually in view. Then, through my little telescope, I saw the clock tower at UC Berkeley. I looked for sails and masts but couldn't make out the harbor.
The air wasn't as fresh as it had been just a few minutes back. I guess there's a current of clean fresh air that enters the bay and usually ends up near the UC Berkeley campus or North Berkeley. But it moves around with the prevailing winds. In a boat you could move with it. Could that be a big reason people like sailing on San Francisco Bay? Just to breathe fresh sea air?
It took another half hour after Berkeley came into view before we could clearly see the outlines of the marina harbor. Michael was done cleaning up, and I let him take the wheel. The charts showed depths of around ten feet. Finally we saw a sailboat heading into what looked like a breakwater. We followed it in. Running on two engines, Michael has great confidence. Shortly after we came into the harbor, he steered to the guest docks in front of the marina office. They wanted to look us over, measure the boat, and see the documentation. So we followed the sailboat, under small outboard power, into slips K-0 and K-1, respectively.
I went in and talked with a young woman named Sophia. I had met her a few days before when I came down to Berkeley to take care of all the paperwork. At the time, I hadn't brought the required documentation, and I still needed to pay her for the slip rental. She came out and measured the length of the Estrella de Oro. She announced the yacht was thirty-six feet long. We went back into the office, and I paid her $393 for a slip, of which Michael agreed to pay $325 per month. I also had to pay another month's rent as a security deposit. She gave me two keys and asked which slip I preferred. I remembered Michael had said that one near the marina entrance looked good, so I asked for that. Sophia wished us luck, and I went back onto the boat. Michael asked about the marina's wi-fi password and if we had a map of the marina. When I came back to ask for the map and what the wi-fi network key was, Sophia was waiting for me. "'Berkeley,' with a capital 'B,'" she said, handing me a marina map.
We found the slip, and it looked fine. It was near a gate and has a beautiful view of San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge from the flybridge.
VIDEO 21 Berkeley Marina

   Later that evening Michael and I headed over to Skate's on the Bay for a "last 

supper." In a big, relatively dark eating room, Michael and I sat at an elevated booth where we had a great view out the window of San Francisco Bay. As we ate the delicious food, once again helped by hunger, our, no doubt, sunburned eyes feasted on the view of the city of San Francisco, the setting sun, darkening sky and bay, the Golden Gate, Mount Tamalpais and very natural Marin County stretching away to the north. As the orange ball went down behind the Golden Gate Bridge, Michael said I should take a picture. Alas, I didn't heed his advice. But it was beautiful.

                                      A Fitting End