THE HOSPITABLE TOWN OF BROOKINGS

Brookings Harbor is a lively small coastal town supported by both commercial and recreational fishermen.  There's a commercial harbour and recreational harbour. Many fishers come in RV's and we spotted a half dozen large RV parks that were full with the most enormous, bus-like diesel pushers you’ve ever seen, many towing small cars behind as well.

The RV’s came in all shapes and sizes, vintage to the most up to date.  A tiny teardrop trailer sat on a tiny parking pad beside the motorcycle that towed it. Then there was the converted 60’s greyhound bus towing an old red rusty jeep.  Some had outdoor carpets and really comfy looking outdoor chairs while others had collected bits of firewood for the nightly campfire.   Day users parked overlooking the surf.  We ran into one energetic guy in a wetsuit who was just returning to his car from an afternoon of surfing; must have been 70!

Wall to wall RV's for the Kite Festival weekend.

One RV park was right on the ocean while others had to settle for being a few steps from the beach and on the other side of the road.

Wind was blowing about 30 knots out there... we were happy in Brookings!

We found a very convenient ice cream store right next to the marina moorage office.  We were so impressed with our ice cream scooper Steven at the Whale’s Tale Candy and Gifts that we went back three days in a row!  Excellent service and really well packed cones.  This little hub area also contained another ice cream and candy store, fishing charters, seafood restaurants, hair salon, the Voodoo Bar and even a small but very fresh farmer’s market.  We knew that big winds were coming in a couple of days so we decided to stay in Brookings.  We stayed a week enjoying the hospitality shown us by so many of the locals.  We took long walks along the fine sandy beach and did an afternoon dinghy trip on the Chetco River.

Chetco River was navigable for a couple of miles by dinghy.

Now that we’re hooked on river voyaging we thought we should ‘do’ the Chetco.  We launched the dinghy Friday afternoon and took off to locate the highway bridge we had to pass under.  Evergreen limbs were shrouded in lacy moss wafting in the gentle breeze.

As we motored further up the river water colours changed and temperatures heated up until we were searching for little patches of shade provided by overhanging trees.

Another RV park!

The Chetco River was still impacted by current and tide.

There are two big pieces of equipment in the center of this picture...

Closer...Not far from the river, this excavation project was going on.

It was a very relaxing way to spend the afternoon away from the north westerlies blowing across our dock.

All together now...raise your wings!  Yes! Raise them! 

We think they went thatta way...

Last weekend Brookings hosted the 24th annual South Oregon Kite Festival.  This was not a competition but an opportunity for invited participants to come and dazzle the crowds with their aerial routines, all done to music.   In return, they happily returned year after year to Brookings to display their talents and entertain the crowds who flock there annually to watch the two day spectacle.

Windy Brookings is a great place to fly a kite on the beach.

This  champion flier favourite was a great dancer...and his kite danced too!

Here he wows the crowd with his moves.

Many top class kite fliers attended each year and there was a real camaraderie amongst the fliers. Organizers paid for their weekend accommodation, fed them and invited them to the Saturday evening fundraising banquet.

Everyone was surprised by these two kites.  The
man is a member of the Bay City Fliers.  Both
he and his girlfriend were participating in the  festival.

She jumped up into his arms, hugged him
And...she said YES! Huge applause from all.

From newly engaged to this well seasoned retired
couple who fly kites in competitions all over the US
when they're not attending festivals like Brookings put on.

Their perfect unison kites.

We walked to the Brookings Harbor Volunteer Fire Hall for the Sunday morning pancake breakfast. A gracious volunteer fire fighter welcomed us with a warm handshake and a sparkle in his eye. Long banquet style tables lined the hall, their yellow plastic table cloths giving a festival feel to the place; there was a low buzz as diners enjoyed home made pancakes and ham.  As soon as we arrived a young girl of nine came to seat us and 'take our order'.  She shyly told me her name was Charlie.  All the kids were all so cute. Volunteer firefighter dads and moms hovered close by ready to help if needed while the kids got a taste of waiting on tables, cleaning up after guest departed, getting new cutlery out, etc.  The adult cooks were around back flipping pancakes and prepping paper plates. We had a wonderful time chatting with a young retired professional firefighter from Long Beach, California, who gave up the  six figure job and the ‘good life’ in California for a great life in Oregon. Quality of life – that’s what it’s all about!  His two daughters were our waitresses. We shook hands and thanked them as we wandered out towards the grocery store, so thankful that we stopped by.

The kite festival was held on a point of land just on the other side of the commercial marina where Falcon was docked, very convenient for us!

This raptor was hanging out next door, searching for dinner from the perch.

The professionals performed each afternoon on an oval shaped field lined with deck chairs, blankets, and picnic tables.

The dragon was taking off at the end of the field while these 7 fliers
worked in unison with a new routine.

Each performer flew a kite in this amazing performance.  You can
see the white lines they're holding.  They cross over each other then uncross.

Creating this unique performance to music.  The fellow on the right
was calling out commands for the others. Outstanding!

Some performers had to cut vents in their kites because of the high winds blowing all afternoon. Those particular kites cost around $500 each!  Each performance was choreographed to music ranging from classical to patriotic...and they were movin' and groovin' to the music too!

In addition to the main performers, the festival also had a face painting booth, kite workshops for kids, food outlets and…lots of different kites for sale.

Our days were split between walking along the long gray beach, watching the kite festival and getting a few chores done on Falcon. All in all, a great way to spend a week.

This fish boat is heading out in 35 knot winds.  

These tenacious plants were thriving on the side of the cliff, 20 ft above me.

We will definitely return to Brookings in the future.

We're now on the move again, hopping our way north towards the Oregon/Washington border. More later….

Tricia and Jim Bowen
S/V Falcon VII
email: tandjbowen13@gmail.com

WHETHER THE WEATHER...

This little fellow greeted me with a smile at breakfast
...then I ate him! 

July 1, 2016  Weather the weather will ever let us leave the San Fransisco area. That's the question!

The last fives weeks of cruising in the waters of San Fransisco provided us with a variety of weather, that’s for sure! We were in perfect sailing conditions, temperatures in the mid 80’s when visiting the cities of Sacramento and Stockton.

Anchored in a narrow channel near Pittsburg in the river delta.
 People were swimming and water skiing into the early evening
when it cooled down a bit.

You never know who you'll meet on the river.

These pelicans were perched on barely visible pilings, trying
to get out of the thermal winds that the windsurfers loved so much. 

After three weeks of 80 - 90 F temps in the Sacramento River Delta we headed back to the cooler temperatures of San Fransisco to see some of the city sights.

We had a fast trip down to the mouth of the Sacramento River motoring at 8.5 knots with the current until we exited the quiet of the Delta only to be slammed by both wind and waves while heading back towards Angel Island and the more open San Fransisco Bay.

We went from trying to cool down to trying to stay warm and dry. Waves crashed over the bow and salt spray shot up and over the starboard deck continuously.  When we passed by Alcatraz Island, it was blowing over 34 knots!  We thought it was a bit excessive but clearly the locals didn’t. It was a traffic jam out there!  Dozens of sailors were out for the day, clothed in foul weather gear, boats heeling over with reefed mains and head sails.

We moored right in downtown San Fran at Pier 39.  Their rate was only $60 US a night instead of $96 US a night expected at the municipal marina a mile away.  That should have been our first clue!  Paying less is not always better.  It turns out that Pier 39 is also the loading and unloading area for numerous passenger ferries, catamaran cruises and large harbour tour boats that operate from 9:00 a.m. til 10:00 p.m. daily.

That's Falcon's red Canadian flag to the right of the big passenger ferry
at Pier 39's docks.  Notice the empty slips.  Seems no one wanted
to stay at these docks unless they had to.

San Fransisco's skyline above the marina and warehouse district.

The wakes caused by their arrival and departure were extreme, coupled with an even nastier current. Poor Falcon lurched from side to side and fought her tethering lines every time one of the huge passenger vessels went by. Our fenders and mooring lines took the most abuse of anywhere to date, including our stormy five summer months in La Cruz, Mexico two years ago!

The entrance to Pier 39's windy marina. Late afternoon winds hit 30 knots
 off of Alcatraz and Angel Islands.  Locals sailors didn't seem to mind, though.

We left Falcon tied up the best we could and ventured to shore and meandered around the famous San Fransisco waterfront all afternoon.  Since school was out, families were plentiful; the harbour promenade was congested with thousands of visitors, talented musicians and entertaining buskers. Ice cream stores, bike and segue rentals, tee shirt shops, etc. were plentiful.

A small look at the huge Pier 39.

Buskers and musicians performed next to this 2 story merry-go-round.

Pier 39, originally a huge waterfront warehouse, now houses various seafood restaurants, souvenir shops, tattoo artist studios, jewelers, bars and candy stores.  We dodged pedestrian traffic and strolled west along the waterfront past Aquatic Park and the Maritime Museum where we anchored in 2013 on our way south. We checked out the famous Ghirardelli’s Chocolates store and soda shop, shaking our heads at the prices people paid for small bags of assorted chocolate squares, chocolate floats and gooey desserts.  Towards evening we returned to bouncing Falcon for the evening, waiting patiently for the last ferry to make its run.

Driving down famous Lombard Street, one of America's crookedest streets.

A few lazy sea lions lounged on the right hand dock, set aside just for them.
Visitors flocked to an observation deck overlooking this part of the Pier 39
marina just to get a glimpse of them. Monterey's docks had way more!

For us, the next day trumped anything else San Fransisco had to offer. Jim’s written a separate blog posting about our visit to the Presidio district, sight of San Fransisco’s origins.  I encourage you to read it for a completely different perspective. 

The Spiral art installation in the Presidio forest.

View of Alcatraz and the Palace of Fine Arts.

Jim reflecting, overlooking the National Cemetery.
Full story written about in his separate blot posting.

Wild flowers sprung up near the woods of the Presidio.

Hard to believe this was so close to the city.  We wondered how
many locals walked the trails and enjoyed the beauty of the Presidio.

This gives you some perspective of the Spiral's height.

Spiral, created out of trees that had to be removed for
replanting since the originals were too close together.

We didn't expect a forest so close to the City.
These planted eucalyptus and Monterey pine acted as a well
placed wind block and created the feel of a much bigger forest.

As we walked away from the Presidio parade grounds, a kind woman saw us checking Google Maps and approached to help.  She suggested we stroll through a nearby campus on route to the Lincoln district.  We thanked her and quickly found a paved path that wound around two story educational buildings, lush lawns, colourful flowerbeds and flowering trees. It was quiet, serine and a perfect transition back to being in the big city.

Since conditions outside the Golden Gate Bridge were still unmanageable, we happily took another five hour motoring trip back into the river Delta where we once again enjoyed a gentle downwind sail on the Sacramento River til Pittsburg where we moored to finish waterproofing our canvas at their covered dock.  It wasn’t all work, though.  We enjoyed the monthly outdoor jazz, local art show and wine tasting show held on the promenade lawn next to the marina before wandering into town for a tasty meal at Lumpy’s 50’s diner.

Here's a look a the weather we were facing and the reason we were staying in the Delta.   The pink represents the highest winds.  Plain blue represents no wind (no blue there!).  So you can see what we were faced with.  Though the image didn't produce very well, the top wind speeds expected near Eureka were 48 knots!

A short three days later we reluctantly exited the Delta only to be slammed by big seas and adverse current again, cutting our speed down to 3 knots, instead of 7.2 knots with no current.  We fought our way back to the only possible anchorage at Angel Island.  The brisk winds buffeted us about while we struggled to anchor in what little shelter the island afforded. That evening we readied Falcon to leave San Fransisco Bay since we had a short weather window and felt we had to take it.  Bye Bye San Fransisco…hello open coastline.

Rail tracks disappeared into the sunset at an
old historic pier in San Fransisco.

Good bye, San Fransisco.  Thanks for some great memories!

Until next time….

Jim and Tricia Bowen
S/V Falcon VII
email: tandjbowen13@gmail.com.

A SURPRISE AND A FEW TEARS

Somewhere or other, I forget exactly, Trish and I heard about a place called the Presidio; that it was a good place to hike and not too far from the city.  We didn’t really know much about it except that it originally had something to do with the military and that now it was a National Monument; the equivalent of a National Park in Canada.  We got up one day and walked into the part of San Francisco next to our marina and caught an Uber ride to the park.   Our driver was a man named Hugo who had emigrated from Guatemala a few years ago and we were grateful to be able to converse in Spanish a bit.

We arrived at what we soon realized was a pretty unique space.  The original builders of the base, the U.S. Army, implemented the largest landscaping project ever completed by the military.  From 1886 to 1900 they planted thousands of trees in a huge serpentine pattern in order to make the space seem larger than it was and to abate the relentless cool winds which blew over what was originally a huge tract of sand dunes.  Yes, they destroyed the original dune ecosystem, which we now know to be fragile and in danger, but their intentions were good at the time and the end result is an amazing place to spend an afternoon hiking.

Hugo let us off at the edge of the original parade grounds next to a wonderful cool, moist pine forest. As we walked up an incline on the trail, we began to see row after row of headstones through the trees.

We realized that this part of the Presidio was a military graveyard, and soon the enormity what was slowly being revealed through the trees settled over us as we began to comprehend the scale of it. We found a sign which said that the graveyard was dedicated in 1884 and was the first National Cemetery on the West Coast.  It contains the remains of 30,000 mostly young men who were sent to fight for causes which can seem awfully far away when sitting on the hill overlooking all that carved marble.  30,000 people who never married, never had children, never got to live the life that the people who sent them there held so dear.

Trish and I each found a spot to sit and ponder and to shed some tears for this terrible waste.

The poetry engraved in stone in this picture is from The Young Dead Soldiers by Archibald McLeish.

The Young Dead Soldiers

The young dead soldiers do not speak.

Nevertheless, they are heard in the still
houses:  Who has not heard them?

They have a silence that speaks for them
at night and when the clock counts.

They say:  We were young.  We have died.
Remember us.

They say:  We have done what we could
but until it is finished it is not done.

They say:  We have given our lives but
until it is finished no one can know what
our lives gave.

They say:  Our deaths are not ours; they
are yours; they will mean what you
make of them.

They say:  Whether our lives and our
deaths were for peace and a new hope or
for nothing we cannot say; it is you who
must say this.

They say:  We leave you our deaths. 
Give them their meaning.

We were young, they say.  We have
died.  Remember us.

Archibald McLeish

We were both quite overcome with emotion, especially since we had stumbled on this solemn place quite unexpectedly.

After a while, we continued on our hike and enjoyed quite a few hours of wandering along paths and narrow winding lanes, all the while cradled in forests of hundred and thirty year old trees.  We were both feeling like the forest was welcoming us back to a more northern part of the world.  Conifers rather than cactus, coolness rather than heat, pine needles rather than sand.  We both were starting to feel that we were not so much on our way home any more, but rather on the home stretch.

After coming to the end of the trail and visiting the orderly brick officer’s barracks buildings, we crossed the parade grounds with their incredibly perfect lawns and headed back into the city, grateful to be alive.




Peace.

Jim