[Paddlewise] Trip Report - SF Bay

We had some very fine winter weather in the San Francisco Bay area yesterday so I set out on a little solo exploration.

Despite a weather forecast for a low of 41 degrees, there was frost on my minivan as I loaded my gear up.  After a 3 week layoff from paddling (due to surgery, not the weather) I was eager to get going but had to refer to a list to make sure I packed all my safety gear.

With a good high tide at Palo Alto expected at about 10:30 I hoped to launch by 8:45 but didn't push off until 9:15.  The park rangers have, for no apparent reason, dragged a wooden barricade across the parking area about 25 yards from the end of the dock but left an alternate approach open.  Hope I don't get a ticket.  The dock is very long and one thing not on my list is my wheels, so of course that's what I forgot.  I carry a 50 pound kayak and all my gear in 3 trips.  The temperature is perhaps 55 degrees when I launch.

The water is glassy and the flood is helpful.  About 2 miles out the Bay is black with birds, thousands upon thousands of them.  When I am about a quarter mile away they begin flying off, continuing their migration southward.  I never got close enough to see what they were.  As I approach channel marker "20" I realize that I've been looking toward the wrong landmark ... I have not been in this area for a year and never in a kayak.  Trust your compass more than your eyes.  No time has been lost, I always stop here to review my course.

I see movement and make it out to be a small boat going too fast, a mile or more away.  Three other boats nearby are at anchor.  As I pass them and enter the Coyote Creek I see one more boat at anchor and I realize one of my landmarks was missing.  Some burned wooden spars are all that appear to remain from a wrecked boat which sat here for years.  It was about a 45 or 50 footer.

I continue up the Coyote River to my turnaround spot, where a low railroad bridge crosses the river.  The chart shows vertical clearance zero and that is in fact what it is.  At high tide you might float a paddle under the bridge but nothing larger.  Station Island, also called Drawbridge, is on my left.  From my low spot all I can see are five abandoned buildings.  This place is a testament to human folly.  Build a hundred years ago, it catered to sportsmen and card players.  Over time, more and more fresh water was pumped until the ground subsided and the island began to flood at high water.  Untreated sewage from San Jose increased until the place was untenable.  Most residents left in the '50s but the final one stayed until 1977.  It is now a preserve and can be visited only on a ranger-led tour.

As I eat my lunch, a lone seal come along to watch me.  It approaches to within 25 feet in small stages.  As I'm packing my things away I see the ebb has begun and I've moved back 100 yards on my way.  I was hoping to see herons and egrets but there are none today.  No pelicans, either.  Now to begin the long trip back.

The wind picks up just enough to make worry lines on the formerly glassy sea.  The waves never reach higher than 3 inches the entire trip.  The ebb tide is moving diagonally to my course, helping more than shoving me aside.  The tiny wind is almost directly opposed to the tide.  I see a smooth surface on the sea ahead and think that this will mean a counter direction tidal flow ... the wind and tide agreeing against me ... but when I get there my speed picks up to 5.2 Kt and I realize that the wind and tide are conspiring to help me for a moment at least. 

Far away there are 2 large boats near the Dumbarton Bridge, both larger than I usually see on this part of the Bay.  No danger of them coming here, especially during the ebb.  This entire area will be high and dry in 2 hours.  Visibility is declining ... I could see the mountains a little while ago and now I can't make out details on shore only 2 miles away.  The sunlight begins to take a red hue.  A large flock of birds ... flycatchers, I think ... goes by and they look kind of burnt orange in the filtered light.  I worry about the weather but not too much.  

As I pull into the dock, a man there with his elderly mother asks lots of questions about kayaking.  He has experience with inflatables and folding kayaks in his native Switzerland.  I'm tempted for a moment only to try my German on them, but I'm too tired and my German is too poor and I don't want to insult them.  Too bad, I wonder if he would have helped carry my gear if I asked him in German.  I wonder how ones asks, "Would you mind taking the stern toggle" auf Deutsch.

A pleasant but uneventful trip, 12.75 NM, 3 hours 45 minutes.

jerry.



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