I shut the door to the old Buick, shouldered the sail bag, and turned towards the harbor. I was eleven years old, dressed in my blue denims, hat, jacket, and pants to match. The tide was in, and the day was clear, and already a slight breeze was stirring...plenty for my little boat. How I treasured those days of sailing by myself on the south San Francisco Bay. My little twelve-foot sailboat would take me away physically and mentally to another place and perhaps another time. Already visions of some voyage only partially ...
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I shut the door to the old Buick, shouldered the sail bag, and turned towards the harbor. I was eleven years old, dressed in my blue denims, hat, jacket, and pants to match. The tide was in, and the day was clear, and already a slight breeze was stirring...plenty for my little boat. How I treasured those days of sailing by myself on the south San Francisco Bay. My little twelve-foot sailboat would take me away physically and mentally to another place and perhaps another time. Already visions of some voyage only partially conceived were forming in my mind. The dream never left me-46 years, six ever bigger boats later-and Judy and I were sailing out the Golden Gate and "turning left" for warmer climates. A favorite cruiser's saying comes to mind: "Plans are made in jello"-meaning that they are constantly changing. This is a story of that voyage...not so special as many have done the same and more...but this was our voyage and the experience of our lifetime. Although the route and places have been done thousands of times before by thousands of different cruisers, I have found that no two cruises are ever identical. Our experiences will never be duplicated in exactly the same way...and hence, that is why I do not hesitate to write about it.
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