Bodega Bay to Tomales Bay

[A year ago last Easter] Mon Mar 24, 2008 06:13 All: Today I rowed from Bodega Bay to Tomales Bay (Heart's Desire Beach - Tomales Bay State Park). Conditions were as good as I could have hoped for but still challenging. Sonoma County Regional Parks charges $5 to launch a boat from the park at the south of Bodega Bay. Tide was still low when Nina and I arrived so the inside of Bodega Bay was mostly mud flats. Nina pointed out that the other side of the sand spit, near the jetty entrance to Bodega Bay on the ocean side was sheltered enough from the surf to get a boat launched from the sandy beach. There was no fog but the foghorn there was tooting anyway. A moderate breeze from the south meant I would be rowing into the wind -- something I was not expecting. The forecast said there would be smaller swells and less wind than yesterday. The sun, moderate surf, moderate wind and warming air allowed me to feel safe with the conditions so I proceeded. GPS died before I rowed ten strokes. I had spare batteries so I immediately changed to the fresh ones. GPS said it was 5.25 NM to a spot at the narrow entrance to Tomales Bay. As I set out, conditions were great. Air was cool. Waves were low. I felt strong. Yesterday's tour rowing down the Russian River was harder than I expected but I was rested. My hands have no blisters. My back is ready to work. Nina had my rowing plan and would meet me at the other end with the truck. The only potential problem I anticipated was the surf at the entrance to Tomales Bay. The tide would not yet be high and the swells can be breaking into surf continuously there. I expected my journey would take 3 hours or less. I had 4 liters of hydration, waterproof splash jacket and gloves lashed into the boat in case I got cold. My dry bag had another layer of clothing, too. The Peinert Zephyr (named "Freedom") was able to handle all the weight and was sturdy enough for these conditions. I had rowed her in really rough (whitecaps 4 feet high) conditions out past SC-7 buoy near Santa Cruz. I was confident she could handle anything. I also had installed air bags for more secure flotation in case of a hull puncture. The fiberglass is only paper thin, after all. There is a Coast Guard station at Bodega Bay. Nice to know help is not far. After less than a NM, the protection of Bodega Head began to fade and the swells built rapidly. From about 1.5 NM into the route until a half mile from Tomales Bay entrance the conditions were like the open ocean with no protection from the full effects. Now there was a cross-swell too. Wind-driven chop less than one foot high. Swells were from the Northwest so I was quartering down swell. The sets were at least 10 feet and most swells were 5-7 feet. Not that high but they were steep and close to one another. Some looked like their faces were vertical as they overtook me. [The nice thing about rowing down swell is that you can watch them all approach you from behind. The bad thing is that you can watch them all approach you from behind!] Some swells can give you a boost. Some catch your boat in their trough and stall your progress. It was a lot of work to keep pointed in the right direction with the sets being so big and steep that I was close to broaching when they rolled through. Depending on if I was in the bow or stern of my stroke at the crest of each swell, the top of the swell would push me off course left or right. In this boat, without a skeg, one can shift ones weight using hip angles to help slide sideways a little to prevent broaching or correct the boat's course. You can't do that in skinny boats with skegs. Now I needed to have the bailer open all the time. I was about 2 miles offshore the whole leg. The green bluffs were in stark relief from the morning sun. Brown and yellow cliffs were sheer drops from the pastures above to the rocks in the surf below. Not many places to land a boat if I had an emergency. I used a hill on Bodega Head for a "back heading" and occasionally monitored my magnetic compass. I looked over a shoulder every 20 to 40 strokes. I watched the GPS to see the miles tick down from 5.25 to about 0.40 when I shut off the pointer. It was not a leg of the journey for the novice. Waves were steep, cold and mixed in several directions. Often, the sea made it into the boat over the sides or deflected off the riggers. Oarlocks were occasionally under water. The wind was not strong but enough to slow me down a little and keep my hands and feet chilled. My little boat kept stalling about every 5 or 6 swell. Not badly but enough to keep my speed down to about 4.7 knots during the open ocean leg. I stopped and drank about every 20 minutes. In cool weather I need about a liter of hydration per hour of rowing to stay healthy and pull strong. I saw a lot of cormorants, seagulls and harbor seals. Far offshore to starboard I thought I saw whale spouts. There was no way to be sure. There were a lot of small buoys marking something in a line over a mile long. One harbor seal poked his head up and glared at me, eyes wide. His head was covered with blood, bright red. It sent a chill up my spine. Usually they duck back down right away. This one was stretching his little head up as high as it could and staying high until, behind a swell, I lost sight of it. As I neared the Tomales Bay entrance the chop settled, the cross-swell decreased and only the main ground swell remained. But it was still big. The sands of Dillon Beach on my right (port) and the high cliffs of Point Reyes on my left (starboard) meant I was nearing the narrow entrance to Tomales Bay. The surf began to roar on the Dillon Beach spit. I was about half way between the two sides. I realized that this was a bad track when suddenly, 100 feet ahead of me a huge swell broke, making a loud 'whoosh' on its way to the sandy shore off to my right. Maybe this isn't such a good spot to be rowing! I changed course to get closer to the "deep" side of the route. But, seconds later a huge wall of water climbed up out of nowhere and crashed over me and my little boat. I surfed down the front of it for a second but it quickly broached me and, sideways, flipped me over. The last thing I remember before going into the cold wet salty sea was stretching my neck to keep my head above the foaming surf covering me and my boat to my shoulders. Then: Flip! I am a strong swimmer and wasn't injured or too tired. But when I first surfaced I could not get Freedom righted. I pushed again. She wanted to stay upside down. A couple seconds passed and a second huge swell built to at least 12 feet, broke, and came crashing over me. At the last moment I ducked under my boat and held on to her riggers at arms length, hoping it would not be too violent. It wasn't. This time, upon surfacing, I was afraid. If these huge swells keep breaking and pounding me I will never get righted and back in. The down-swell shore was a beach one quarter mile away with nothing but breaking surf and foam in between. I didn't want to go there. The other shore was a rock wall. The way to right a stubborn rowing shell is to get control over the oars and make sure they are not hindering the process and, if necessary, pull on the riggers (without breaking anything). My oars were not cooperating. In fact, I think they were trying to swat me in the face. I reached under Freedom and grabbed the rigger on the far side. One long pull and she was righted. One kick and I was in. I had to fight the oars for a minute to get the 'handle end' in my hands. I actually had to kick my port oar handle to get it out from under the hull where I could grab it. If I was in a skinny boat I would be back in the water again by now. I was certain another swell was about to break on my head and desperate to get away from this spot. I lost my sun glasses, hat, hydration bags, spare gore-tex socks and dry bag. I had my VHF radio, GPS, PFD, compass, shoes and splash jacket still lashed in. Now, I was cold. Nothing on me or the boat looked broken or bent. I took a few strokes and scooted away from the break and stopped to take stock. Over there I could see my lost things (except for the sunglasses!). But, I thought, if I row back over there will I go through the whole process again? I waited a minute. The water, except for the swells, was smooth. Thank goodness that didn't happen a couple miles back where the water was chaotic. It would have been much harder to get back in the boat. No more sets. Were they rogues? I waited another minute. Just the normal swells -- steep but not breaking. I turned and rowed back to fetch my dry bag. Looking at the approaching swells more than where I was going, I had to make a few passes to grab my stuff. Still no big swells. I fetched my hydration bags. Then my hat. I felt certain another big one was on its way. I left without my socks. I rowed over to the Point Reyes side, away from Dillon Beach. I did not see another big one break in that area for the remainder of the time I could watch. Rogues. Or maybe fate making sure I received enough adventure today.

Nothing seemed damaged on the boat. Riggers and oarlocks felt like they were solid and in the right place. Most of the water was draining from my clothes. I tugged my shorts up. I pulled my socks back up. The waterproof back of the rowing vest was helping to prevent the wind from chilling me. I felt bad about littering by leaving my socks floating in the sea.

At the shoaled entrance, with a south wind going against a rising tide there was a great deal of turbulence and small breaking surf. But it was only a foot or two high. There was swirling eddies and noisy, splashy, washing-machine patches. I followed the navigation buoys and pylons. The channel hugs the Point Reyes bluffs. A calm patch. Harbor seal. A chaotic patch. More big chop. The next navigation buoy was tilted over at 45 degrees in the strong incoming tide. It was chuffing off a wake as though a hidden submarine was pulling it. I shot past. More chop and turbulence. Then a strong headwind. Cormorants. Past a bluff and then it was almost calm. A mile ahead I could see Hog Island. The bluffs of Point Reyes occasionally gave way to a placid beach. Most had a kayaker or two picnicking there. The first beach I passed had two kayakers taking a break sitting on the sand. As I rowed passed, not far from shore, one gave a 'thumbs up' the other nodded. Yes. If only they knew. They might applaud :-) The sun was climbing. Point Reyes offered some protection from the wind if I stayed near shore. I was drying out a little and warming up. I pulled long and hard. Many times. The water was 'flat' here but for some wind-driven wavelets, less than a foot even in the worst spots, and I wished I had a skinnier boat. But, I thought, there was No Way a skinny boat would have handled the big ocean. Well, maybe next time! I thought that my friends from SCRC should have come to Tomales Bay to row today. The water conditions were nice. A little breeze. Lots of sun. No chop. In here, no swells whatsoever. The boat glided (well, as much as a wide boat can). My legs kicked and my back angle opened. Recovery between strokes is like flying. One thing I noticed about Peinerts is that the wheels and tracks of the seat are essentially silent. The incoming tide was giving me a nice push. The headwind was sometimes a crosswind and sometimes calm. My average speed readout on the GPS climbed. 4.9, 5.1, 5.2 knots. I stopped and drank a few times and started rowing again before coasting to a stop. There were lots of kayaks hugging the shore, staying out of the wind. Most waved. I nodded or shouted 'hi'. Tents of campers on shore peppered the beaches that allowed camping. Colorful kayaks marked other beaches where they rested. A few power boats and sailboats moored near the beaches were probably waiting to carry their Easter holiday crew back to their journey's start later in the day. Tomales Bay looked small, narrow, shallow and peaceful. The opposite of the ocean. Heart's Desire Beach came sooner than I thought. There was Nina, waving. My trip plan said it was going to be 12.8 NM. GPS said I rowed 13.4 NM. I left Bodega Bay at 9:40 and arrived at Heart's Desire at about 12:10 or about 2.5 hours after starting. GPS said I was averaging 5.3 knots as I finished. Not bad for a wide boat with an interruption in the middle of the journey.