A NIce Voyage

A Nice Voyage

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 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 sounded as if 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