The road to Bodega Rock is filled with many potholes. One such bump occured last spring while trying to get some rock action recorded on film. Everything looked perfect. A clear sunny day, a 13ft-17sec swell report and NW 20knts at the buoy. Phone calls were made, the sailors gathered, Simonson secured a boat. Everything was ready, so it seemed. The wind hadn't filled inside the Bay but we could see white caps outside the rock. "Heck yeah, its windy out there." What else was I gonna say after gathering all these people here. Our communications with Eric on the boat were poor at best. There was very little wind in the bay so I just figured we were on hold. I had negelcted my cellular phone and left it in the car just out of earshot. When I finally checked in there were about a dozen messages waiting for me. In each one Eric got a little tenser, "What the hell is going on out there?!" The last message indicated that He and the boat were getting under way. It was about 10 minutes old.
Drew Farrior was with us that day. He's a pretty easy going, no worries kinda guy. He didn't have any qualms about sailing with no wind. I figured, hey, Eric will be out there in a boat, I'm carrying a radio, what could go wrong? Drew and I optimistically rigged a 4.7 and a 5.2. It really did look windy outside, sort of. We just really wanted to sail and invented epic conditions in our minds. The last communication we had with Eric was via the VHF. They were still in the channel and there was something about smoke billowing out of the bilge, there would be a slight delay.
Drew and I went sailing. Did the "hula" through the shore break, all the way to the rock, over a mile from the launch site. I kept looking over my shoulder for the boat. It never came. I looked ahead for the windline, there was none. I reached my limit and stopped just short of the rock. Drew stayed a little higher up wind and made the channel between the rock and the headlands, an area that can be dicey even when its windy. The winds swirl around the head creating dead zones that can last for several moments. Rouge waves can sometimes closeout across the entire channel. Many a boater has been caught and capsized in this area. A saw Chris McNeil get the ride of his life here. He and I went out through the channel. I jibed first on a sizable swell. I remember Chris saying afterward that he was bummed because he thought I got the better wave. He took the next one. I looked back to see him white knuckled, trying to outrun a wave that was breaking way over his head from rock to headlands. I rubber-necked the whole way, comfortably on the shoulder of my wave. It was quite a sight. The sun was low and illuminated the wave from behind with a green, translucent glow as it pitched. He made it.
I lost sight of Drew except for a glimpse of his mast tip every now and then as he crested a wave. Then he disappeared somewhere behind the rock. It could of been the dark side of the moon. He was gone. I tried to raise the boat on the VHF. They still hadn't come out of the harbor. I don't think I could of heard anything anyway over the roar of the waves. I couldn't get anything out of the shore party either. A good 15 minutes had past before Drew emerged downwind of the rock between sets. I was pretty relieved. Still slogging, cool as can be, "Not enough power," he said as he slogged past, "I can't catch anything." Hmm, Bjorn's, little brother. We began the long slog back to the beach. The wind was even lighter now, still no boat. I eventually made it in and "Captian Ron" and his fine vessel picked up Drew in the middle of the bay, belching black smoke all the way home.
I still slog whenever I can.