Hang on San Francisco, hang on!
The first night on the ocean, we forgot to flip the electric switch to “charge only”. The following morning our lithium batteries were down to 49 volt – with Starlink as the main culprit – and there was no sun in sight to charge them again. So instead of hugging redwoods as was the initial plan, we had to insert an emergency stop for some additional shore power in the Charleston Marina Complex of Coos Bay.
The good people of Coos Bay – a huge commercial fishing port – stopped their throwing and hauling up of crab pots and stood in amazement as they watched us coming. Once docked they profusely complimented O2 for her beauty and us for our so-called bravery. We even got our picture taken as we awkwardly struck a pose next to our Belgian flag, as was friendly requested.
The next morning, with our own and our boat batteries fully loaded, we decided to bite the bullet and to continue in one big leap all the way to San Francisco. The boat AC electricity was only switched on to download weather updates and to heat the food we had prepared in advance. The Watt & Sea generated just enough to keep the 12 Volt batteries alive.
For 3 days and nights we joined the whales who kept coming up for air all around us. Their Alaskan Fish Fest had clearly been a great success and now they were on their migratory track down south for their annual Fiesta Mexicana. At times the languid dreamy movement of the whales was punctuated with spectacular breaches and thunderous crashes, which we made sure to keep clear of: “When you see a blow, go slow.” It was easy to adjust our speed since we had to motor the greater part of the way for lack of wind.
Energetic pods of dolphins and porpoises also escorted us down south. They wildly rode our bow wave for hours at a time and never seemed to tire. And we never tire watching them. No matter how many times we have met them before, their exuberance always has me jumping for joy. My Captain always acts a bit more subdued, but he loves it too.
During my second night shift, around 2 o’clock in the morning, I was fighting sleep but kept nodding off. All of a sudden, a fast fluttering came out of nowhere and hit me smack in the face. On impact, I was instantly wide awake. With both my hands I panicky brushed something away to the farther corner of the cockpit bench that I was sitting on. The thing felt very light to the touch and eerily soft. It was a little bird. The next morning our birdie went hunting for insects all over the deck. But insects are scarce, that far out on the ocean. He stayed with us throughout the day and into the next night, hopping around, looking for food.
We ended up feeding him dead flies which were still attached to the sticky fly catcher strip we had used to defend ourselves in the Port of Astoria. Birdie even lost a couple of feathers as he got stuck to the fly catcher strip himself. That’s when we decided to pluck the flies from the strip with a pincer and offer them on a plate. Birdie finished them all. But the very moment we neared the coast, he took off to the mainland. And we were left behind with that empty nest feeling.
On September 18th, at 9AM slack, we entered San Francisco Bay through the Golden Gate in true Hollywood style. Our Genoa sail was billowing (some wind at last!), shearwater birds, cormorants, terns, and pelicans were swooping in formation, and in my head I could hear “golden trumpets soar on high and silver sonnets reach the sky “.
The Bridge revealed itself in all its glory as we had hoped it would, the rising sun sparkled on the water as it is wont to do, and further away on the horizon, both Alcatraz and the Big City Skyline rose through the haze. We were amazed that we were practically the only boat out on the water.
Everybody had warned us to be vigilant downtown, that the city had “badly gone down the drain.” They had told us about the street violence, about the homeless people (house rent has skyrocketed) and about the druggies listlessly shooting up out in the open. About how all this mess had ruined the famous Flower Power vibe of the city that once was. But the view from the water came second to none and we were simply taken in by the grandeur of it all. And we thoroughly enjoyed it.
We are now docked in Emery Cove Yacht Harbor in Emeryville, where Diane has been managing the place for over 37 years. In the 80’s she sailed to New Zealand herself. She was delighted to hear that we had heard about her marina through the Swiss sailing couple on SV Dada Tux who we met in Baja California 2 years ago. Emery Cove is a true sea farer’s hub where ocean worthy sailing vessels far outnumber the motorboats for a change. And it is conveniently located, just a bridge away from downtown San Francisco.
We are very relieved it all worked out.
Our first date was with the skilled boat electronic guy, Anders Johansson from Swedish Marine, another pride descendant of Leifur Eiriksson . He came carrying gifts (which we paid for, but with a serious discount) in the form of 4 brand-new Victron lithium batteries to replace the Torqueedo ones. Our London based Integrel support team had taken care of the logistics. Mr Johansson expertly executed the installation and connection to the Integrel charging system. Everything is up and running again with O2 and crew happily humming along.
Next came my dermatologist’s appointment. Six months ago, out of nowhere, a small red spot had appeared on my arm and had then decided to stay. It has been diagnosed as actinic keratosis which is caused by sun damage, an occupational hazard in our case. It was a benign or premalignant lesion with the emphasis on “pre”. It has been frozen to smithereens now and I gladly put my dollars down for the diagnosis and the cryotherapy. Moreover, visiting the dermatologist’s office downtown San Francisco was an experience in itself.
Once that was sorted out, it was high time we hit the town. What can we say. It is always a shocker to see the tents of the homeless and drug addicts lining the sidewalks as had also been the case in some of the dystopian parts of Vancouver (we biked through it by mistake), Seattle (we walked through it by mistake )and San Diego (no mistakes happened here, but we saw it anyway). According to the DEA, “fentanyl-related -mass-overdose events are a nationwide problem”. And in these “events” San Francisco is apparently taking the lead.
According to a March 2023 McKinsey report, “on any given night, 38000 individuals in the Bay Area are homeless, an increase of 35% since 2019.” We talked to several locals from either side of the political spectrum about the dire situation. They completely disagreed on both the origin of as well as the solution for the homelessness, the crime, and the drug problem. Some claimed it all started in the 80’s when the mentally ill were abandoned and driven out of the asylums into the street where present day well meant but badly executed measures like installing safe places to shoot up without supporting rehab services and psychological treatment only made matters worse. “All the other states are shipping their drug addicts and crazies to us now.” Some blamed it on illegal migration, others again on too liberal laws that allows lawlessness to grow rampant. Some blamed it on post-covid disruption and impossibly high house rents, and some simply called it a perfect storm: a combination of all of the issues mentioned above forcing their great and beloved city of San Francisco down the toilet. All were very ready to talk and all agreed something’s gotta give. The hurt was palpable. Also, the call for desperate measures in these desperate times grows louder and louder and only divides the community even deeper. We hope the leaders will take the Mc Kinsey solution to heart.
But to our tourist eyes, the city was still pretty gorgeous. It felt safe to walk the very well kept streets. As long as you stayed clear of the hellish drug infested neighborhoods, all was well. So, we found refuge in the safe haven that museums offer (awesome), into the lively restaurants and bars along the pier (but we were too chicken to stay out late)and into Chinatown where we were practically the only non-asians exploring the shops and alleys.
Nine friends, each in a different room of a big 19th century mansion on the Hudson river, sing and play their different instruments to create a haunting repetitive song “Once again I fall into my feminine ways.” “There are stars exploding around us, and there’s nothing, nothing you can do.” This is one of the friends, sitting on the bed that his girlfriend is asleep in. I took a picture of the video frame, because it looked like a painted still-life and it really spoke to us. This one hour immersion into vision and sound, celebrating friendship and connectivity in spite of it all , had us mesmerized. We haven’t experienced anything like this in a very long time.
The last weekend of our stay in San Francisco we celebrated with yet another branch of our (extended) American family. This time we were spoiled by our niece’s in-laws who gathered us around their table of plenty together with our nephew and his family. Happy tall tales, laughter and a succulent duck cooked to perfection in an early 20th century gem of a house was the apotheosis of our stay in San Francisco Bay. Here’s to you family and people of San Francisco! Thank you so much for the good vibrations.
