and Scott Grometer s/y DREAMCATCHER On July 9, 2006, Flicka owners Bert Felton and Scott Grometer departed Alameda, CA for an eight day minicruise of the California Delta on Bert’s Flicka DREAM CATCHER. The Delta, a labyrinth of waterways comprised largely of the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers and reaching deep into California’s expansive central valley, is often advertised as having over 1000 miles of navigable waterways. Several smaller rivers and tributaries with their attendant sloughs and backwaters provide ample opportunity for exploration and discovery. For the sailor, perhaps something more like several hundred miles is available, as there are many fixed, low-span bridges and too-shallow sloughs for complete access. Many of the waterways comprising the Delta as seen today are the product of swampland “reclamation” projects dating back to the 1850’s. The often deep and navigable channels and sloughs are the result of extensive dredging/mining of material to create the adjacent levees. The region is now a patchwork of below-sea-level farms and ranches separated by narrow waterways and connected by levee-top roads and draw, lift or swing bridges. Small towns and/ or marinas punctuate these meandering waterways at more or less regular intervals. Perhaps the most surreal aspect of Delta cruising, aside from looking down at the surrounding landscape, is the occasional sighting of full-size grain or tanker ships moving across what appears to be open farmland. There are deepwater ports in both Sacramento and Stockton, and full-sized oceangoing ships ply these serpentine waterways on their long journey from the beyond the Golden Gate to these landlocked agricultural ports.
Anchored out of the way in the Sacramento Delta. Photo: Scott Grometer © 2006 The prime Delta cruising season is summer. Delta weather is usually hot (often 100º F. or more) during the midsummer months, which, perhaps paradoxically, is the prime attraction for San Francisco Bay sailors tired of cold, fog, and daily 25-30 knot winds (recall Mark Twain’s famous quotation regarding his summer in San Francisco being the coldest winter he had ever
spent!). Ironically, the hot summer weather of California’s central valley and Delta region is the direct cause of the cold, moist, and windy summer conditions in San Francisco Bay. As this interior land mass and air heats in the summer sun, the heat rises and results in inland low pressure. This ‘vacuum’ literally sucks the cool, moist coastal air through the natural gap at Sacramento Delta the Golden gate, and up through the string of bays and river drainage on its way to the Delta. The Delta cruising region hits its population apex around the Fourth of July, when literally tens of thousands of boats converge on select locations for huge, alcohol-soaked floating parties and fireworks displays. We opted to bypass this mass debauchery in favor of a somewhat quieter Delta experience. We figured that by departing shortly after the masses returned home to nurse their hangovers, we would stand a better chance of some solitude and perhaps the occasional view of some wildlife.
Scott at the helm of s/y DREAM CATCHER. Photo: Bert Felton © 2006
We enjoyed a sunny and fog-free early departure from DREAM CATCHER’s home port on the Oakland Estuary. A fresh breeze built to the usual 20 knot northwesterly by the time we slipped under the Bay Bridge on our way North. A short, steep chop often develops in the shallow waters off the Berkeley shore given the long fetch to and beyond the Golden Gate Bridge. In our haste to get under way, we forgot to open the automatic bailing valve in the transom of our towed inflatable dinghy. Before long, to remedy this oversight, we were forced to heave-to in the boisterous waves rolling in between Treasure and Angel Islands as the steep breaking waves conspired to convert our dinghy to a sea anchor. Before long, we had jumped on to the express-train combination of favorable tide and following winds that would characterize our entire trip to Delta waters. Even with the help of tide, wind, and a long summer day, we knew that the journey to our Delta destination would need to broken into two or more days.
China Camp thrived in the 1880’s with a population over 500 people. Photo: Bert Felton © 2006
We had often discussed a trip to the historic bayside encampment of China Camp, now a state park located on the Exploring the west side of shallow San Pablo Bay, and the camp’s location en-route made it a perfect first night’s anchorage. (http:// www.sfgate.com/getoutside/1997/may/cc_history.html) Chinese immigrants constructed this and other shrimping camps in shallow, remote locations around the San Francisco Bay. During the 1800’s, the fishermen used nets deployed from sailing junks, switching to powered boats during the 1900’s. China Camp is perhaps the most complete and well-preserved example and is surrounded by extensive parkland. Here, it doesn’t require much imagination to picture the bay as it was 150 years ago.
were abandoned in favor of more Delta-appropriate attire of shorts, t-shirts, and lots of sunscreen. In spite of careful planning and impressive speed over the bottom, we were astounded when late afternoon found us only at the town of Pittsburg. We tucked into the Pittsburg Marina to stock up on ice and use the shoreside facilities. We queried the harbormaster as to possible anchorages we might reach before sundown and then headed out quickly per his directions.
With the sun quickly fading, we found ourselves in the suggested narrow, reed-lined slough. We were told that we could just anchor anywhere We dropped anchor well offout of traffic, but we were not shore in about two fathoms feeling too confident about the and in clear view of the histraffic part. As we nosed into toric buildings. A row ashore one bank to test the depth, a with beach landing proved grossly overpowered bass boat very worthwhile, as many of blew past us at dizzying the original buildings and speed. We looked at each houses are intact and filled other with a knowing look with period equipment and about what we had to do next. effects. We were immediately adjacent to a once large farm The interpretive center/ known as Franks Tract. Origimuseum offered early video nally reclaimed in 1902, this and photographs and should parcel became a large lake not be missed. The park dock when the False River levee (no private vessel access) is failed in 1937. We had been complete with a faithful repwarned to stay out of there DREAM CATCHER anchored in Franks Tract. lica of an early junk-rigged and had heard all manner of Photo: Bert Felton © 2006 shrimp boat as well as a later rumors of lurking underwater powered wood vessel. hazards ranging from submerged telephone poles and farm implements to crashed airThe China Camp anchorage can, at times, be very rolly. We planes. Still, we watched that speeding bass boat enter set an alarm for midnight for the turn of the tide to confirm Franks through a fifteen foot wide break in some tulles and that our anchor reset properly when the surprisingly fast curcontinue across at better than 40 knots. rent reversed. We were spared being startled by the alarm’s piercing note when the wake from a distant tanker nearly So, with a crude chart in hand, in we gingerly went. We threw us onto the cabin sole. searched for the deepest water out of the likely early morning traffic (fishermen) and finally set the 22 lb. Bruce with On our second day out, we jumped back on the express train its 40 feet of chain in about eleven feet of water. We listened of tide and wind and enjoyed a brisk passage through the to the steady 25 knots of wind howl through the rigging most Carquinez Straits on our way east. The cold, moist air of the of the night. Rising early to ensure we had enough water to San Francisco Bay gave way to rising temperatures and hot retrace our steps back out, we were awarded a stunningly sun, and the layers of expedition-weight long underwear beautiful sunrise in an equally beautiful setting. Sacramento Delta Day three found us in the heart of Delta landscape. Meandering channels bounded by tall levees, cows gazing as we ghosted by under sail, great blue herons wading less than a boat’s length away--the stress and pace of everyday life was yielding to Delta time and priorities.
worry about it.” We were liking these Delta people already. We were entertained by some of the crazy radio exchanges we heard while monitoring VHF channels 9 and 16 in the Delta region. One apparently clueless mariner made the call “Bridge, Bridge, requesting opening.” The failure of the caller to identify which speAt one point, however, our cific bridge--there are countnewfound peace was abruptly less bridges in a small area all shattered by a deafening roar monitoring the same channelsand yellow streak overhead. -resulted in a kind of quizWe were left stunned, not quite show questioning that resulted sure what had just attacked us. in the caller having to describe Several minutes later, it rehis surroundings before the turned--a crop dusting plane bridge operators could figure that must have only missed our our where he was. Other boats masthead by mere inches would attempt to call fixed (okay, probably several feet, bridges for an opening, rebut you get the point). We quest a water taxi because couldn’t see or hear the plane they had run aground, or atuntil it cleared the levee, and it tempt to reach the distant disappeared just as quickly. coast guard because a sailboat Not wanting to alter our gehad failed to yield right of nomes, we held our breaths for way. More than once, we utas long as possible. terly collapsed in laughter upon hearing such calls. We had received conflicting Throughout the trip, we would information as to the opening make jokes with each other schedules and protocol for the such as “Golden Gate Bridge, numerous bridges we might Golden Gate Bridge, this is encounter. We knew how to sailing vessel DREAM request openings on VHF CATCHER requesting openchannels 9 or 16 (9 preferred): ing” or “Water Taxi, Water “Mokulumne River Bridge, Taxi, our Porta-Potti is full.” Mokulumne River Bridge, this Needless to say, we were is eastbound sailing vessel starting to relax. Abuses of these important calling chanDREAM CATCHER, nels, however, were less than DREAM CATCHER, reReplica of a Chinese Junk at China Camp questing opening.” humorous. Local fisherman Photo: Bert Felton © 2006 use both channels 9 and 16 In the case of our second bridge, we learned not to call too liberally to discuss everything from their upcoming vacation early. Thinking it would be polite to give some early warnplans to recent sexual exploits. ing, we called this bridge about five minutes before our arrival. By the time we rounded the final bend in front of the After our last bridge, we sailed into an ever narrowing river bridge, we were astounded to see the bridge already wide that looked like something more characteristic of a deep open, and with long lines of cars and trucks stopped on either south bayou than California. We were shocked that we had side. not seen a single sailboat for more than five hours. The occasional small fishing boat or ski boat would pass now and To further exacerbate the situation, we were under sail at the then, but nothing like the midsummer madness we had extime. In true relaxed Delta fashion, the friendly bridge attenpected. dant suggested that we wait until we get a little closer to call and that we might want to consider not sailing through When we finally reached our intended destination, our hearts bridges, as that was not legal! We sheepishly apologized, sank. We rounded the bend into the final slough only to find and she laughed and countered with “no problem--don’t several hundred houseboats stacked along the shoreline, Exploring the
We hailed this bridge before we turned the corner, They waited patiently for DREAM CATCHER. Photo: Bert Felton © 2006 seemingly less than ten feet apart. Ski boats with giant booming speakers throbbed past, and one houseboat complete with a live heavy metal band completed the disappointing picture. According to the various guidebooks, this anchorage was supposed to be among the most intact examples of the early California oak swamplands. We were not impressed. Fortunately, the Delta is large, and we did not have to go far to find what we were looking for. We motored away from the floating trailer park and within a short time found a quiet, solitary slough replete with huge overhanging trees, still water, and abundant wildlife. Having finally found what we were looking for, we dropped a stern and bow anchor mid-slough and then nosed the bow close to shore with a line from the bow to a tree. This enabled us to keep the boat just off the bank and al-
lowed a breeze to flow down a wind scoop through the forward hatch. For three days, we hiked, explored the seemingly endless small waterways by dinghy, picked blackberries for breakfast, and watched the varied wildlife. We spotted a bald eagle, a musk rat ferrying reeds for its nest, several kingfishers, and great blue herons too numerous to count. One afternoon, we journeyed to Locke, a late 1800’s/early 1900’s settlement built and originally inhabited entirely by Chinese immigrants. This fascinating riverside town is largely intact and shows few signs of gentrification. A walk down the main street is truly a time-warp experience. (See http:// www.locketown.com/). On July 14, we reluctantly departed our anchorage to retrace our route home. Having sailed all but 1/2 hour of the
80+ nautical miles to the Delta, we were now to pay for that free ride with countless hours of motoring. At first, we countered only the wind, as the sloughs lack the kind of fetch for much chop, but by the time we reached Pittsburgh, we were bucking a huge, steep chop that knocked our speed back to as little as two knots. Sailing against the wind in the narrow channel was out of the question and even motoring was not going to get us to our intended stop at Benecia before dark, so we retreated into Pittsburg Marina with the intent of an early morning start (the wind is typically much lighter in the morning). That evening, we walked to downtown Pittsburg for dinner at a recommended Mexican restaurant. This little-known town is treasure of period buildings and has some of the best examples of high art-deco architecture around. We had a fitful night of sleep as the wind contin- Sacramento Delta
The last night of the trip was spent anchored at Paradise Park on the north side of Tiburon. Photo: Bert Felton © 2006 ued to howl through the rigging. At 0400, we departed the harbor, and to our astonishment, encountered conditions even more boisterous than the previous day. We had a constant 30+ knots on the bow for the next four hours. This, coupled with five to six foot seas with about a boat-length duration made for very wet, uncomfortable going. At one point, the 8’-6” inflatable was completely airborne just prior to its flipping upside down. We looked back in astonishment as it suddenly became airborne again and righted itself. For the first time the prop on the Yanmar
inboard actually came out of the water in the steep chop. At times we could only make 1.7 knots over the ground running at 3,000 rpm only because the current was running with us. By the time we reached Benicia, the conditions had abated. We could have easily made it back to the slip that night, but perhaps because we were both exhausted by the conditions, or perhaps because we weren’t quite yet ready to return to civilization, we decided to anchor off of Paradise Park on the north side of Tiburon for one last
night. At nightfall, all of the crew of the various anchored boats sat topside for an impromptu concert of acoustic guitar emanating from a lone musician sitting on the deck of his home shoreside. We slept like babies. Our eight day little adventure enabled us to tune-out the goings-on of the world. Everything was in the now: setting sails, deciding where to anchor, cooking, washing dishes. It was difficult to return, to be bombarded by noise, news, phones, traffic. We could see the draw to the cruising life or certainly to taking mini cruises more often.