Mem Day 13: Santa Cruz to Moss Landing

     2013-5-13
     Since I had an offer from my girlfriend, Yelcha, to transport my boat back home from the finish, I thought it was a perfect opportunity to make Memorial Day a memorable day with an epic row.  I have rowed Moss Landing to Santa Cruz or vice versa several times in the last 7 years so I was familiar with what lay ahead.
     The weather information on line seemed okay early this morning so I gave my self a green light.  Swells were not high and their periods not short.  Wind wasn't strong (yet) but it was forecast to grow to 25 knots of tailwind in the afternoon.  Unfortunately, until then, it was a headwind.  Oh well.  There was 50% chance of rain in the forecast, too, but not until the afternoon.
     I decided on using my Bay 21, "Splash", since it's my favorite right now.  And it can hold all the gear for a long trip.  [PFD, VHF, GPS, H2O, shoes, Speed Coach, Compass, Jacket and cell phone were all aboard.]
     I shoved off the dock from under the Murray Street Bridge this morning at 7:56.  It's a holiday but it was nevertheless a bit strange to see so little activity at the harbor.  No other boats were moving in or out.  Hmmm.  Did they know something I didn't?  Some strolling folks but no boaters.  The GPS says 14.0 nautical miles to the entrance to Moss Landing harbor.
     The tide was so low that the floating boat rack dock was on solid ground in one corner.  That section of the dock is brand new and so I think maybe they didn't plan that too well.  It's rare that the tide's this low (- 2 feet) so it's probably not going to cause much damage soon.  Besides, the plan seems to be proceeding to make seismic retrofits to the Murray Street Bridge and they'll have to remove all of these docks in a year or so.  I'll tell the harbor management.
    On the way out past the jetties I saw a young man standing on the west jetty with a trumpet.  Hmmm.  Was he about to play "Taps" to commemorate fallen soldiers?  That brought back memories of my High School days.  I played Taps at the cemetery up on the hill or else the echo from down by the river.  For now, no horn was blowing.
    It was really gray skies and low clouds.  A marine layer was hugging Santa Cruz and I couldn't see more than a couple miles.  I think it was even drizzling a bit.  Coming out of the harbor it was obvious that I wouldn't be navigating by sight to Moss Landing.  "No problem" since I have my GPS and a compass, too.  visibility is at least mile or more.
    Since the course is a bee line all I have to do is get lined up and don't make any turns.  Easier said than done!
    After 2 miles I was losing my visibility to shore and therefore losing my backheading.  The water had already built to 'rough'.  I thought that it was bound to get better once I was away from shore and the reflections from the cliffs stopped adding to the mess.  It didn't.  I needed the bailer open from the chop sloshing in over the splashguard and over the sides.  In a Bay 21 there's lots of freeboard so it's not often I have to open the bailer.
    After 4 miles I stopped for a drink.  The headwind and overcast helped keep me cool and reduced dehydration.  But I knew I needed water often in spite of the favorable conditions.
     So far it had been very difficult to hold a heading.  The GPS pointer was always straying.  The waves were constantly pushing me off course port or starboard.  Mostly starboard.  I was 'rowing in a gray box'.  No shoreline or even cloud features visible in any direction.  No sounds of shore, either.  Like most every time I have done this I tried using the wind and the waves to orient myself without help from the compass.  Fail!  In 20 strokes I could easily be off course by nearly 45 degrees! 
     Okay: I'll use the compass.  Good practice for whenever I am forced to use it because of a GPS failure.  It didn't work very well to keep me on course, either.  The rolling and pitching and, especially, yawing was pretty dramatic and so the compass, although well-damped, was wandering like drunk sailor.   As long as the weather was so close I'd have to rely on the GPS.
     It wasn't making me happy that the headwind was increasing.  Or maybe there was a current in the same direction.  Between the rough conditions and the headwind I was down to an average speed of 4.6 knots.  Very disappointing. 
     Strange to see a sea otter this far from shore.  It isn't very deep, though.  I guess maybe about 200'.   It seemed to be feeding so they must be really good divers.  This run is not like the Monterey Bay crossing in which rowers pass over the Monterey Bay canyon: 3000' deep!
     For the first 6.5 nautical miles I was tossed about 'like a Dixie Cup in a washing machine'.   It was challenging to scull in these conditions.  I had done so many times, but 14 miles of this was going to be difficult.  My oars were skipping off the waves nearly every stroke on the recovery.   Lots of splashing and the headwind was putting plenty of salty splashes all over my back and arms and, occasionally, my head.  Harbor seals poked their heads up to peer at me, right in my track.  They seemed to be asking "what's with all the splashing?"
     Fortunately things smoothed out a bit.  I closed my bailer.  Still a lot of yawing as I was quartering down swell.  But at least the pitching and rolling wasn't so bad.
     The weather was lifting a bit, too.
     My average speed climbed a notch to 4.7 knots.  Things were improving.
     No boats visible anywhere.
     For some reason I had Tchaikovsky's "Marche Slave" running through my head.  Appropriate, I thought.
     At 7 miles to go I stopped for more water.  I was halfway there if one didn't consider the headwind.  I could see a darker gray to my right.  That meant the shore was almost visible.  Still couldn't hear it, though.  I was in a good rhythm without straining.  I could sustain this for the remaining miles.  More harbor seals.  Some crab trap buoys.  Even less clouds: it might clear up!
     Average speed increased and that was motivating.  4.8 knots.  4.9 knots.
     Was that...yes!  I could see the smokestacks of the power plant at Moss Landing.  Just barely.  That meant the weather was lifting.  This part is deceiving because the smokestacks are so tall you think you're close.  Hah!
     I see some kelp -- it must be getting shallower.  Another good sign.  Oh, and there's the shore off to my right a few miles.  Beach.  Crashing surf was audible.
      The headwind direction was rotating around clockwise to become a quartering wind and then a crosswind.  The waves weren't big but the chop right on my beam made for snappy rolling.  Ugh.  Too bad.  I thought it was going to be a nicer end.  The chop built.  4 miles to go.  3.  Now it's turning to whitecaps.  2 miles to go.  I am getting slapped around a lot but now I can see, hear and taste the finish.
     I have to stop and open the bailer.  And quietly curse the wind and waves.  Why couldn't they be perfect?  Waves were coming in over the side and soaking my shorts.  Water temperature is probably around 54 degrees.  Chilly.  I pulled harder.  The sooner I was out of this, the better.
     Ironically, the wind was starting to get towards a tailwind as I reached the green channel marker for the Moss Landing harbor entrance and I turned to head straight down the channel.  As soon as I got past the jetty the water became a great deal nicer.  Not far now and this was the only remaining question since sometimes the water in the channel between the jetties gets really nasty.  Especially if the tide and wide are arguing.  Not today.
    Tourists, families, fishermen on the jetties.  Sea lions.  More sea lions.  I can hear their lounging cousins barking.  There's a sharp contrast of blue water from the incoming tide and brown water from the Elkhorn Slough drainage.
    As I approached the boat launch I see that Yelcha put out the slings.  Nice.  It's 10:56.  Exactly three hours.
    Turned out to be 14.8 nautical miles with the short segment from the harbor entrance to the boat launch ramp (and all that poor tracking!).  That's 17 statute miles.  My GPS says 5.0 knots moving average.  The Speed Coach says 4200 strokes, or about 23 strokes per minute (this matches what I expected -- I was trying stroke rates 21 to 25).
     Maybe next time the water and weather will be perfect.

Open Ocean Regatta, 2013 April 21, Sausalito, CA

Every year for several decades the Open Water Rowing Center has sponsored a rough water rowing and sculling race near Sausalito, Ca.  This year it was on April 21st.  It is planned to take place on a day when the morning tide is incoming in case anyone has a serious problem on the long course they will, in that case, be carried back inside San Francisco Bay instead of swept out.

This year is the 6th time I was a contestant.  It is the third time I have competed in a single.  It is the 5th time that I have done the 'long' course, A.K.A. the Diablo course.  The Diablo course is about 8.3 nautical miles and goes out under the Golden Gate Bridge (the Gate), around a temporary regatta buoy, and back to another turn round a buoy off of Belvidere, then round Cone Rock and back to the start/finish close to downtown Sausalito (near the bronze sea lion sculpture).

Complete results are available from OWRC along with more information http://owrc.com/ .

I rowed in my most recently purchased boat, a Bay 21"Splash", made by Bay Shells Rowing in Seattle, WA.  I got it late last year and I've been rowing it a lot since then in Monterey Bay near Santa Cruz.  Bay Shells Rowing http://www.bayshellsrowing.com/Default.aspx has their boats made by the Pocock Rowing Shells factory.  She's a really good boat for rough water. 

I had this one made special by the addition of an extra layer of fiberglass in the hull layup and an extra layer of fiberglass in the seat deck layup.  The riggers are fabricated to be 1" higher than normal.  I weighed it and it's 49 lbs.  That's a bit heavy for most folks but I am big and strong so, for me, it seems about like most open water rowing shells.  The looks, fit and finish, hull design, components and rigging are all really good quality.

Since it is 21 feet long I row in the "Aero" class but the Bay 21 is a bit narrower and significantly faster.  In my event there was only one other competitor and he was an elderly man of small stature so it wasn't much of a race against him.  In fact I didn't see him the entire race.   My time was around 1:20 and his was around 1:40 so it was not even close. 

The fun part was rowing near some of the 24 class men and women.  It is a reall thrill to move up change course, pick a line, fall behind and generally battle both physically and tactically to get to the finish line earlier than one's competitors.  The use of tide and wind conditions to boost one's speed or decrease one's time is big contribution to every racer's results.

It was no surprise that I could maintain the same speed as nearby 24s when things got rough.  From the Gate to the turn and back to the Gate it was violently rough with lots of swells, small chop, swirling eddies and reflections of waves from the rocks of Marin Headlands.  It wasn't windy and there were no whitecaps, but the waves were big and steep for that segment outside the Gate.  I knew I could row in rough water with out slowing down dramatically from my many experiences practicing on Monterey Bay.  But what surprised me is that I could stay with several of the 24s on the course when it wasn't rough.  Not the fastest ones, mind you, but those in the middle of the range.  Normally a 24 is going to be faster than a 21 in good conditions.  So I was pleased with the boat, how it felt and how it performed.

The first couple miles were in essentially flat water conditions.  The last four miles or so were in waves but not breaking so they were 'good' conditions, too.  That middle part always seems to get nasty and some years much, much worse than this one.  I always think beforehand, "it's going to be awesome rowing under the bridge -- few people get that perspective of it".  But, during the race I am focused on the waves, the rocks, the eddies, the other competitors and every other race factor so I consistently fail to stop and look up at the bridge.

This year there was a swimmer's race under the Gate nearly at the same time.  I had my VHF with me and turned on, set to the race channel 69.  So I could hear all the gymnastics that the two race organizers had to perform to get every competitor and every committee boat past each other.  There should have been a bigger cushion of time and distance between the two events since our race deliberately started earlier than originally planned.  But, at the last minute, the swimmers decided to start in the middle of the Gate instead of at the south tower.  So most of them arrived near the rowing race course much earlier than planned.  No collisions or even close calls resulted so it all worked out okay.

There were 4-5 dolphins under the gate.  Right before I saw the dolphins I saw, even closer to my boat, a shark.  It was definitely a shark dorsal fin and really close to me, about one boat length past the tip of my blade.  In the 7 years I have been open water sculling in Monterey Bay and San Francisco Bay its the first time I have spotted a shark whilst rowing.  I thought it was an interesting coincidence that it happened the same morning as the swim race!

I am sure they are nearby nearly all the time, but just hard to see since they don't have to surface and breath like the sea mammals we observe so frequently.

This regatta is a lot of fun with a social meal and announcements of results after the race.  It is a nice venue and it was especially nice this year with the best weather and the best sea conditions I have experienced for this regatta.  I encourage anyone interested to train, practice and compete in the OOR next year.  This year it was mostly managed by Ellen Braithwaite and Gordy Nash.  Some years Sherwin Smith has managed the event.  There is always a huge contribution by the OWRC and its members and volunteers.  Thank you! to OWRC.

Monterey Bay Crossing 2008

On Aug 17, 2008, at 2:37 AM, Tim wrote:Paul, Hi. Just a quick note to let you know that I rowed my Dolphin in today's Monterey Bay Crossing. It was the first time I had rowed the race in a single. There was a disappointing low turnout and some last-minute cancellations. Eight boats started and only 7 finished. I finished ahead of the other two singles and all the doubles. One boat was faster than me: a quad beat me by 7 minutes. I started at 5:14 AM and it took me 3:55:01 to make the 22 nautical mile course. That's 5.6 knots for almost 4 hours. My GPS said closer to 5.8 knots but that's probably because I rowed farther than the straight line course distance. I was averaging over 5.9 knots in the middle of the course but then about 4.5 miles of headwind pulled me down. Sea conditions were varied. We rowed quartering down swell in swells up to about 10 ft height. There was a beam chop in places making it difficult to set up and, of course, some headwinds. In good conditions, I think I could row the Dolphin 6 knots for 4 hours. Thank you for building excellent boats! Best regards, Tim

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.

A really heavy weight scull

UPDATE May 2014 Another excellent choice for the large and/or heavy sculler is the Bay21. Made in the Pocock factory but marketed and sold by Bay Shells Rowing in Seattle. It is the same length as a Maas Aero but with a different cross section (a deeper "U" profile) and less maximum beam and less "diamond" to its footprint. A Bay21 has more reserve buoyancy in the foredeck and doesn't dig in the foredeck as easily. An advantage is the ability to row through kelp without pulling it up onto the foredeck. I have been rowing my Bay21 for a year and a half almost exclusively. Winning the 21 foot class in local races and having fun, too. I can even beat some of my age group in their Maas 24s. But not the fast competitors in 24s. I wrote this in response to questions posted at "Rowingmasters", a Yahoo! Group: John and Bob, I weigh about 245 lbs. and I have rowed nearly two thousand miles in Peinert Zephyr, Maas Aero, Maas 24, Maas Double, Peinert Dolphin and, most recently, Echo Ace. I have rowed in conditions including 6-foot high whitecap chop and 25-foot high swells on the Pacific. (Thankfully not simultaneously.) My favorite of all is the Maas Double. Of course that requires a second rower. I find it works really well with a lighter sculler in the bow. But, since you are probably interested in singles in open water, my favorite single is the Peinert Dolphin. I also have the most miles on it. Its wider sibling, the Peinert Zephyr can definitely keep a heavy rower safe and comfortable in open water. But it is short, wide and requires a lot of effort to maintain a good speed of about 5.1 -5.3 knots. Other than its lack of speed it's the best one I know for a heavy sculler. Dolphin is much faster than the company's Zephyr. Both Maas 24s and Peinert Dolphins will have their bow ball under water half the time when big scullers use them in open water. In good conditions they can maintain 6.7 knots. In moderate conditions 6.1 is more like it. Their flat foredecks can induce "stalling", "pearling" or "submarining" or whatever it might be called by forcing the bow deeper into the water given the right conditions such as running down-swell or in a heavy chop. This is a very frustrating experience and can easily sap 15% or more of one's average speed. With a little practice, they can both handle large waves and chop while still feeling comfortable and safe. Down-swell one can "surf" these two boats many tens of meters on the front of a big wave getting well over 10 knots temporarily. They have proven themselves in long races such as Monterey Bay Crossing (4hours) and Catalina Crossing (6 hours). They handle similarly but not the same. Maas 24 has more flair to the hull cross-section and its skeg is placed closer to the stern. It is easier to re-board after capsizing. The Echo Ace has a wave-shedding foredeck. With me on it the boat is almost a submarine. Its shape prevents stalling almost completely. Down to maybe 10% of the others', depending on conditions, so there is almost no speed reduction from stalling. But the hull shape makes you pay a price. The plumb stem gets pulled side-to-side in even small waves' circulating fronts. It's no problem directly up- or down-swell. But off either of those directions, the buried bow will cause a great deal of dramatic yaw that makes it hard to handle and it's definitely not relaxing. Since its max beam is the waterline beam there is no flare in the hull cross section to add to stability when it is tipping. My experience is that up to about one foot of chop is okay (the boat really moves quickly). Above that wave height I can only row a few miles before capsizing. Swells of 4 feet are no problem, either, if they are low-frequency. Essentially, it is as challenging to row as a flat water single. Lighter weight rowers probably have fewer challenges with an Ace. I think it is slightly faster than the Dolphin or Maas 24 in good conditions for me. Not one of the singles is optimized to help a big sculler go fast. Even if a scull specifies they can stay afloat and not break in half, and even if the rigging adjustments will fit a large body type, the existing designs have serious shortcomings for such a heavy rower. We have more mass up higher and we move the mass much farther fore-and-aft. We need the oarlocks to be higher because we are taller and the boats' hull is lower in the water. I suggest that we really need a 26 or 27 foot hull length and commensurate strengthening of the hull and rigging. Lots of reserve (above water line) flotation would reduce pitching. However there is no way to accomplish that without a penalty of weight and windage . A proud bow, like those of some surf skis, would help prevent stalling. But, again, not without a weight and windage penalty. Alternatively, the wave piercing concept works until the waves are more than a few feet high (in that case I would rather be above the waves than under them). Since most modern sculls are made in a female mold all scullers' body types are forced to fit into the existing sizes. Fluidesign has made a special and custom flat water racing scull for a 6'6", 250 lbs. sculler. But I don't know if it is rowable on the ocean or if it could withstand the bending and pounding forces. One of the best boats I know of, but have never rowed, is the California Wherry or Cal Wherry. Only a few are in existence . Much heavier than a scull, they can handle brutal conditions and still move fast. They're made of wood and based on a century-old design. Wintech's design is not made to accept a suction bailer without some extensive work. Although the cockpit of the Maas and Peinert are said to be 'self-bailing' , they all hold too much water unless a suction (Anderson) bailer is installed. Peinert and Maas offer them as options. Since every boat is a compromise it is best to tailor the boat type to the conditions you expect to dominate your future open water rowing plans. Trying each of the commercially available boats in multiple conditions is the only way to find out how their handling gets compromised because on flat water they all work fine. If you know another tall or heavy rower who owns one (which means it may be rigged okay for you) then you might request a short loan. Best of luck and best regards, Tim Santa Cruz, CA

Galatea, a 15' Gunning Dory

I wrote this report to the manufacturer of my newest boat. "Galatea" is a 15 foot fiberglass Gunning Dory. Gunning Dories got their name from their use as transportation to and from duck hunting sites on the shore of the New England coast. Roger Crawford makes fiberglass boats by hand, one at a time. His shop is famous for the Melonseed. See http://www.melonseed.com/

"Galatea" has a fixed seat and 8 foot spruce oars. It's not really 'sculling' but it gets me out in much rougher conditions than I ever could in a sliding-seat scull.

Roger,
My boat arrived safely on Wednesday. By that afternoon she was battling a roaring, windy afternoon on the Pacific Ocean. Then I took her out again on Saturday. Two outings and six complements. Everyone thinks she's beautiful, including me.
But the prettiest boat in the world won't hold my interest if she fails to offer something valuable in performance. The Gunning Dory does.
Maiden voyage was under very windy conditions. Even inside the harbor it was windy, making it hard to navigate a straight course to the harbor mouth. Gale force winds offshore meant that it was howling outside the harbor. I aimed for SC7, a buoy about 1.6 nm from the harbor mouth. It's also outside of Monterey Bay and in the open ocean. I knew it would be a good test. After a mile or so directly upwind I saw I was making about 2 knots. I know it seems slow but the wind, chop and swells were all pushing against me. After a half mile the wind was roaring. After a mile it was screaming. The wind was so strong that my oars were vibrating on the feather! I turned back less than 100 yards from SC7. But it was enough of a test for a maiden voyage. I tracked to all points of the compass, checking out the handling in the rough seas. By the time I was back at the dock I had logged well over 5 nm. This is a very seaworthy craft. Chop was 4 to 6 feet and breaking into whitecaps about 50% of the time. Swells were 6 to 8 feet in addition. The only water in the boat came from my own splashes -- barely a puddle.
Saturday's test was also under very rough conditions, but not as windy. Again it was in the afternoon when rowers and kayakers don't usually go out. Chop was again 4 to 6 feet and breaking about one-third of the time. When you get in those conditions and it's not too windy it's an amazing sound as the chop breaks over -- like the suction of a giant drain. Underneath the swells were a little bigger, at least 8 feet. I took her to SC7, Mile Buoy and back to the harbor. She is an amazing little boat, handling breaking waves together bigger than her length without even a shudder. On one upswell stroke I launched her off the top of the waves with 2/3rds of her length out of the water. She landed with a whack but it was a solid feel and I can attest to the stiffness of the construction. On the downswell, beam and quartering courses I quickly learned her handling characteristics. I am a big, strong guy and she really responds to my directions. I was surfing, keeping a good course, dodging sailboats and everything I cared to try. I broached significantly once, but only because I was learning. Often, I could surf at about 8 knots.
Her second voyage averaged 3.7 knots, including rest stops, and totalled over 5 nm again. She can probably sprint over 4 and maintain 3.9 sustainably until I take a break. Once again the only water inside was from my splashes - just a few millimeters in the bottom.
I am really impressed with her nerves of steel. Her design does exactly what I had hoped. She handles enormous breaking waves, chop and swells. Even upwind rowing is impressive.
Her flat bottom allows a good rower to "skid" her sideways down the fronts of the waves instead of broaching. Her narrow stern allows her to point a narrow target at the oncoming whitecaps when quartering or running down swell and down wind. She's corky enough to happily lift up with the tallest of waves yet streamlined enough to make deliberate progress across them. Her construction is tough and strong and yet still not heavy.
I am using 8 foot spoon blade spruce oars. I have ordered 7.5 foot wide spoon blade oars, too. I may also end up with some 7 foot spoon blades for the upwind slogs like her maiden voyage. They're set up with less than one handle of overlap.
The foot brace brackets work really well. It's a great idea and nice design. They're much stronger than I expected. The seat's comfortable. I use a pad with a tailbone notch cut out.
She fits in the bed of my truck, sticking out quite a bit, of course. It's nice to move her without a trailer. The launch dolly fits in there, too, easily with the wheels off. Where I usually launch her, its only a couple dozen yards to the water.
By the end of the summer, I hope to have taken her on some long journeys of 20 nm or more.
When people ask, I give them your name and your company's name. I don't know of anyone on the west coast who could build a boat like this as well as you did.
The colors are well-chosen. The green boot stripe is perfect. The Cetol finish looks great and the inside paint is a good color for avoiding sunblinding reflections.
Thank you for crafting a sturdy, beautiful, seaworthy boat. You have thought out a lot of design and construction which make it perfect for what I have planned. I have the utmost confidence in her now after two very challenging cruises in the Pacific and Monterey Bay.
Best regards,
Tim