From Petaluma to Richmond By: Larry Costa From the May issue of 'The Potter Yachter' Happy Camper came off the wave and slammed down hard enough to send a shutter through the whole boat. The chop was only about 1 1/2 ft but every now and then a very steep set would come along which were higher then the rest. On these, Happy Camperís bow was forced skyward only to drop suddenly as the wave passed by, slamming her hard into the next steep wave. Between sets, I would have just enough time for the apprehension to rise before another set would come along, sending spray over the cabin and jarring me back to the realization that I had to rely on my abilities and Happy Campers construction to get me through this.. The most troubling part for me was that the conditions were worsening and I was in the middle of San Pablo bay, 6 miles from the nearest land. When the club set up the Richmond sail on Presidents weekend I decided that if the good weather held I would do something that I had been wanting to do ever since I bought HC, cross San Pablo bay. SPB is a twelve mile diameter extremely shallow body of water just north of San Francisco Bay. Most of the bay is less than 12 ft deep, and the northern half, the part I had to pass through is, less than 6' deep. This forces boats into a 5 mile long, narrow channel which means you have to motor if the wind is out of the SE. The other problem is the chop. with the long fetch and the shallow water the steep chop develops in all but the lightest conditions. The shipping channel that crosses from the North east to the south end of the bay carries all of the water draining from the central valley of California and can have tremendous rips and confused chop. On top of all of this once you are out in the bay you are committed to the crossing as all of the northern and western shores except for the Petaluma River are impassable shallows and mud flats. Once through the bay you come to the San Pablo straights which carry all of that water south to SF Bay. Rips and Strong currents swirl around the rocks that break the waters surface on the east and west side of straight. Across the southern end is the Richmond Bridge with its many pillars cutting through the current. Add to this the container ship and oil tanker traffic the straights can be a very intimidating climax to a trip south through SPB. I had everything planned out. An afternoon motor-sail down river from the Petaluma marina to Black Point where the river empties out into the bay. Overnight at Black Point and cross SPB in the early morning, which all of the local fishermen told me was the best time to attempt it. then south east five miles to the end of the channel and seven miles due south to China Camp. I planned to anchor at China Camp for lunch and then head south through the straights on the west side which is out of the main channel and so has less current and the associated rips. Cross the shipping channel at Marin Islands, pass under the bridge on it's east end. Then east of Red Rock and follow the line of the Richmond long pier to the entrance of the Richmond channel. Nice and simple, I thought but nature had different plans for me. The trip down the river was against the wind and current so I ended up motoring most of the way. No problem as I only used about a quarter of the tank which left me enough for the morningís crossing. Besides, I had picked the time of crossing to coincide with the out going tide. I anchored out in a wide spot in the river about a half mile above the river's mouth, and in view of the houses on the point. I knew that it was going to be cold and had brought along not one but two sleeping bags plus a couple extra cans of stove fuel. The sun was setting as I dropped the hook. By the time I had HC squared away for the night the sky had already set but the few jet trails in the west still glowed like golden stripes decorating the evening sky like a present. A slight chill and the smell of salt water hung over the water. To the east, Mt. Diablo was already disappearing in the evening haze. To the north the haze still colored the sky over Petaluma a deep crimson. The houses on the north side of Black Point were deep in the darkening shadows. Lights were coming on like glimmering jewels on the mountains crown. Mt. Tamalpias was visible earlier but like the shy maiden it is, it was now hiding behind the closer hills of Blackpoint. Off in the distance I could hear a dog barking and what I thought was a loud radio with the treble turned way up. By focusing my hearing I found that the scratchy radio was in truth a large number of birds. Close by a heron is screeching as if to tell the others to quiet down. I went inside the cabin and settled in for the evening. Six AM I was awake and making coffee. By 0630 I had the hook up and was drifting down towards the highway bridge in the light morning breeze. As I drew closer to Black Point the wind died so I started the iron sail and headed out into the bay. Except for a contrary breeze, conditions were all but perfect. The bay's surface was glassy with just a slight rolling swell coming in from the SE. It was a beautiful morning. The sun glittered off the surface of the water and a Clear sky. As Happy Camper plowed ahead it's low wake caused a nearby flock of floating birds to bob around like so many bathtub toys. The rolling water turned to low but steep chop by the time we rounded buoy #13 and headed dead into what little wind there was. By the time we rounded # 7 and turned due south the chop was up to 1 1/2 foot and very steep The chop was mostly out of the SE but it was also coming from all easterly directions, combining their height and causing causing HC to pound on the largest ones. Six miles out, seven miles from safe harbor and I have an anxiety attack, what a day. By 0900 I had come within two miles of China camp and was amongst the fishing fleet so not feeling so alone I was able to set sail and shut down the motor. The wind was just strong enough to give me headway through the water but not strong enough to fight the current so before I knew it we blew past China Camp and were headed straight for the Sisters. HC was unable to cross the current fast enough to clear the Sisters under sail alone so I fired up the motor and fought my way inside of them. As I cleared the western most rock I was almost sucked into a swirling eddy behind it, but the Johnson kept running and we pulled away to the south. Amazing how the chop all but died after we cleared the Sisters. Having cleared the Sisters I once again shut down the motor and tried to sail. We were being sucked out into the main channel so I decided not to fight it so tacked and headed towards the Richmond side of the straight. Even with the headway we were making I could see that we were going to be sucked right on down the main shipping channel to the west of Red Rock. I could also see a container ship making the turn at Angel Island and another ship coming down the channel from the north so once again I fired up my old Johnson and headed cross channel. After taking a picture of the Brothers lighthouse I turned south and sailed towards the Richmond bridge and Red Rock. Once again the current was pushing me in a direction that I couldnít afford to go so I motored until I barely cleared Red Rock to the east. As I was now out of the Westerly influence of the current and as the breeze was up enough to give me a decent headway I was able to sail to and up the Richmond channel. This part of the journey was most enjoyable as HC had a bone in her teeth without the engine noise drowning out the sound of the bay around me. All too soon it was over and the wind died to a near wisp by the time I reached the turning basin. I lowered and covered the sails and motored the last mile to the Harbor Masterís dock. As I turned into the marina I had a strange feeling come over me, It was just the slightest hint of what those who cross oceans must feel when they finally reach port, thankful for a safe harbor but already missing the adventure. I put a tape in the cassette and played one of my favorite sea songs. The chorus goes: But to every sailor comes time to drop anchor. Haul in the sails and make the lines fast. You deep water dreamer your journey is over. You're safe in the harbor at last.