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DATE:	SATURDAY, September 26, 1998
POSITION:	Point Conception off Santa Barbara, CA Headed toward Los Angeles
ENTERED BY:	Captain Dan Parrott

September 25, 1998
San Francisco To Los Angeles

The depths inside Drake's Bay are ideal for PRIDE II, ranging from 20 to 35 feet in most places. Since the anchorage was so open, and the wind so steady, and the sea so flat, and the sun so warm, we decided to sail around inside Drake's Bay just for the heck of it. Back and forth we tacked in the afternoon sun. The headlands of Point Reyes towered three hundred feet above, and a long curving beach wrapped along the shore. After a couple of hours, we sailed PRIDE II onto the hook in time to stow the ship and relax before dinner.

All hands arose in darkness to find the coast "thick of fog." With the anchor catted, PRIDE II's bow payed off downwind in the direction of San Francisco. Visibility varied from nothing to half a mile. Fishing vessels popped in and out as we proceeded under only the foretopsail. Small wonder that it was many years before San Francisco Bay was discovered. Only a madman would sail toward a rocky, fogbound lee shore with no chart, no visibility, and no knowledge of the spacious protected bay that lies inside. The early explorers had no engines to help them out of trouble, and they were a very long way from help or home. And here we are, with a spanking new chart, following a line of green and red lighted buoys that were clearly visible on radar if not by eye, and a Vessel Traffic service monitoring the position of every inbound and outbound vessel by radio and radar. Other modern advantages are too numerous to name, but its enough to say that under such circumstances, we are left with a profound respect for our predecessors-in-sail.

San Francisco

Alcatraz, in the middle of the bay, was a little of each. Looking astern, the Golden Gate finally emerged for a curtain call before being obscured once again. Passing along the waterfront, we saluted the full-rigged ship, BALCLUTHA, where three of our crew, Wes Heerssen, Jen Huggins, and Pamela Coughlin, once apprenticed as riggers.

A topsail ketch, the HAWAIIAN CHIEFTAIN, tagged along trading cannon fire with us.

Our first view of our berth revealed a narrow slot between a floating dock and a fixed piling dock just a few feet to leeward. A stiff Force 5 breeze, typical of San Francisco, sought to push us down onto the pilings. The berth was too shoal to back in, which would have been the more controlled approach under these circumstances, but there was limited space for the bowsprit ahead. There was nothing for it but to nose in slowly, but not too slowly, and try to get some lines on. If we got pushed onto the pilings, at least it would be a short toss with the heaving lines. Well, sure enough, we got pushed onto the pilings. However, within a few busy moments, we got lines onto the floating dock and hauled ourselves back up to windward using the crank-all winch and brawn. It wasn't graceful, but we were secure. Then the wind died. Welcome to San Francisco.

Actually, it was quite a welcome. A number of people were on the dock to greet us and offer assistance during our stay, including a number of old shipmates. San Francisco is a sailor's town, all right. Its just tough to find a decent dock there.

The week in San Francisco was a full one. There were a number of scheduled events, including daysails, dockside events, and Open Houses. On one occasion, we had the pleasure of hosting a daysail with the company of a former PRIDE II Chief Mate, Mark Neumann. It was during these daysails that we gained a fuller appreciation of the power of the tidal currents in San Francisco Bay, while refining our docking method. More than once, PRIDE II was out on the bay, sails full and drawing, but making absolutely no headway against the current. Alcatraz stood still, a mute explanation for why it was so treacherous to attempt an escape from there. Also while in San Francisco, there was a training session for myself and some of the crew in the use of our newly donated automatic defibrillator.

It seems that nearly every member of the crew had friends, family, or both in San Francisco. Consequently, when not on duty, the crew tended to scatter. Perhaps that is a healthy thing once in awhile. They have had four months together, with three still to go. An exception was the long-awaited night out bowling with the gang from BALCLUTHA. This event provided a bounty of material for the breakfast table next day.

Another occasion that brought us together was the farewell and birthday party for Deckhand Pamela Coughlin on our last night in San Francisco. Pamela's knowledge of Japanese language and culture proved invaluable when we were in Japan, and her skills as a nurse were used on numerous occasions. We will miss not only her skills, but her spirit on board.

Joining us in San Francisco is another new, old crew member, Stephanie Reynolds. Stephanie sailed aboard during the Great Lakes tour in 1993. Among other things she has done since then, she has sailed aboard the schooners SPIRIT OF MASSACHUSETTS, NEW WAY, LADY MARYLAND, and skippered the SIGSBEE for the Living Classrooms Foundation and a vessel for the Chesapeake Bay Foundation.

September 26, 1998
Continued at Sea

"The nationwide listening and tracking system for all marine and aeronautical EPIRBs has experienced a failure and is not operating until further notice. This means that 406 EPIRBs (the type carried aboard PRIDE II and many other vessels), if activated, will not be heard by search and rescue satellites."

The Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon (EPIRBs) system is considered one of the best means of broadcasting and responding to an emergency on the high seas. Mariners have always known that reliance upon technology would have its drawbacks and that occasionally it would fail us. Despite the inauspicious start to the day, neither I, nor anyone aboard, was really fazed by this development. On the contrary, it was a healthy reminder that when you venture onto the high seas, you must be prepared to depend on no one but yourself.

We are now south of Point Conception, the place where the coast of California turns sharply to the east, before angling down to the city of angels. The wind has been in and out, but mostly in, giving us a pleasant sail down to Los Angeles. At one stage or another, we have set all of PRIDE II's sails, less the storm canvas, in the course of our sail. Our bow is now pointed toward our final destination at Marina Del Rey, where we are expected to appear at 1200 noon tomorrow, a black sliver topped by billowing canvas growing slowly out of a vacant Pacific.

Watch Below,
Captain Daniel S. Parrott

Some of the images in this Captain's Log were provided by the San Francisco Convention Bureau:

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At Sea, September 12, 1998

We are sailing south along the coast of Washington toward San Francisco on a starboard tack. It is a fine autumn day in the Pacific Northwest. At the higher ranges of the radar unit, a thin green ribbon denotes the distant coast about 40 miles to leeward. As the sun makes its way around the headstays and into the western sky, the chill is driven >from the deck as we are no longer in the shadow of the sails. In this temperate clime, it is a welcome transition in the day. However, I anticipate when we reach the tropics in October, we will view this same evolution very differently.

We are carrying the four lowers (mainsail, foresail, staysail and jib), plus the fore topsail and the jib topsail. I just gave the command to set the starboard stunsail as the afternoon breeze appears to be waning. A moderate swell tips the ship to leeward, then she rolls back with a slight slatting of the mainsail. Our speed has been varying between 5.5 and 8 knots. A few more knots of breeze would do nicely, but we must be careful what we wish for. It is altogether a fine day to be out and voyaging about.

Seattle

An undeniable highlight of the call to Seattle was the Orioles-Mariners baseball game that we attended on Sunday, September 6. The entire crew and both captains had front row seats right behind first base where we proceeded to heckle the Mariners and encourage the O's. In the first inning, Bordick cracked a one-run shot into the bleachers and the crew spontaneously combusted. We ran out the ship's 25 foot pennant emblazoned with PRIDE OF BALTIMORE II to its full length and shook it with vigor. We clapped and cheered and hooted our approval. We waved our Orioles flag, donned our Ripken T-shirts from Kawasaki, and doffed our Orioles caps toward the dugout. It was only upon settling back down that we realized that, but for our raucous island of partisans, in all the Kingdome you could have heard a pin drop. Our innocent little display of team spirit was greeted with stony silence. To the credit of the Mariners fans, no one pitched mustard-slathered hot dogs or cups of warm beer at us, which they could have easily done because we were right down front. And so it went for nine innings. With each strike thrown by Mussina, with each hit or catch made by the Orioles, our puny but brave contingent recklessly cheered and hollered, flashed the pennant, and jumped up and down. On the strength of three homeruns and Mike Mussina's arm, the O's made us proud by winning 5-2.

Port Townsend

This was our second call at Port Townsend since arriving in the Pacific Northwest. The first time it was because the ship arrived early from Japan and needed a place to get dolled up before the ball in Seattletown. This time it was for the purpose of attending the renowned Wooden Boat Festival that is held there each year.

Though not an official part of our itinerary, it was an important stop to make. Despite the fact that this is a regular and well-attended event, PRIDE II found herself the center of attention. We were pleased with the special recognition that the ship received. Both the organizers and the residents made us feel very welcome during our short stay. During a four hour Open House, we received 1,422 visitors, perhaps the highest turnout of the entire Asia campaign! Port Townsend is a veritable hotbed of traditional sailing, rigging, sailmaking, and boat building. A number of crew from the first PRIDE have settled there, including John "Sugar" Flanagan, Leslie McNish, and Wayne-O Chimenti. Upon arrival, we shot up the town pretty good, while ghosting up and down the waterfront in a faint afternoon breeze.
After trading tacks with ALCYONE, Sugar and Leslie's schooner, we went alongside at the Union Wharf. The next morning, we obliged a request to fire a nine o'clock cannon to officially open the Wooden Boat Festival and, in so doing, unceremoniously dislodged some bleary-eyed pigeons from beneath the pier. Although the Festival continues through the weekend, we had to depart Friday evening to begin the long trip down the coast to San Francisco. We got underway in the late afternoon on September 11, and were escorted seaward by the schooners ALCYONE and ADVENTURESS, both commanded by former crew of the PRIDE OF BALTIMORE.

Leaving the Strait of Juan de Fuca: September 14, 1998

We have had a mixed bag of sailing and motoring up until yesterday. The wind was in and out, mostly out, until it filled in from the North during the afternoon. We got all plain sail on, plus the jib topsail and the gan'sail, and began to close with the coast. That's when the fish found us. Every half hour, like clockwork, there would be a little tug on the line and we'd reel in a handsome little albacore of around 10 pounds. Just about the time one was cleaned, someone would swing another aboard and over to the cutting board. The deal is, whoever reaps the glory of hauling the fish over the rail has to clean it. Myself, Mike Lawnsby, Iron Mike Rogers, and Jennifer Huggins each landed a fish. Somehow Jennifer got out of cleaning her fish. Ah yes, she had the responsibility of the watch. The lucky lure belonged to the Mate, Wes Heerssen. After the fourth gore-covered crew member in two hours had presented a fish to the Cook, she came up on deck wielding a saber-like kitchen knife screaming, "Enough! I have already made dinner!" So we quietly put our lure away. The Cajun tuna actually went pretty well with the chicken gumbo, and it turned out that the Mate made the gumbo from a hallowed recipe handed down by his grandma. So in more ways than one, we had Wesley to thank for last night's picante repast.

Upon gaining the coast toward nightfall, we encountered a heavy fog. There are few things more eerie or disorienting than barreling along under a press of canvas through a fog so thick that you cannot see your own bowsprit. The red glow of the compass, always a beacon of certainty, becomes even more valuable as a point of reference and a source of comfort.

At 2100, at a point about eight miles from shore, we jibed around onto a starboard tack and have been heading out to sea ever since. We are steering a course as southerly as possible, but since the wind is out of the North, we can only go either Southwest or Southeast. Right now it is Southwest. The crew are still wearing hats and mittens on watch. Several crew are sporting new Filson woolen coats, procured from the factory in Seattle. Very dapper indeed.

Safety Exercises at Sea; September 15, 1998

Second Mate and Safety Officer Jen Huggins recently brought to my attention that we were carrying a supply of expired emergency flares. Turning our trash into treasure, yesterday afternoon we conducted live-fire exercises with the old flares. After notifying the Coast Guard by radio from 110 miles offshore, members of the crew took turns activating the flares. We had 100% success from the parachute flares and came away with the distinct impression that they would be positively lethal if ever pointed in the wrong direction. Among the seven handheld flares, there were two duds. Safety equipment is great stuff to have, but it is even better if people have used it before.

All for now. More after San Francisco.

Watch Below,
Captain Daniel S. Parrott

Greetings,

The Orioles have won a game, their first of a series of games with the Seattle Mariners, and I am shocked at how time has flown by! PRIDE II has been in Seattle six days already - and that is two weeks after landfall at Cape Flattery!

Some time ago during the crossing from Japan, I mentioned how time seems to get longer at sea. The first part of the crossing is spent getting used to being our own island community of 14 persons in a space 100 feet long by 26 feet wide. The middle part of the crossing seems to be spent in the monotonous comfort of getting up for watches and looking forward to the next meal. The ending of the crossing is full of tension about how soon we will arrive. But once we arrive, there is suddenly no length at all to the days! As soon as we have had breakfast and start the day's work, it suddenly becomes the end of the day, and we are all tired! A lot is accomplished each day, but there is hardly any time to appreciate the accomplishments as everyone has personal things to do -- on their own as well as together. The hospitality of the marine enthusiasts of Port Townsend has been a major factor in easing the way for the crew to get as much done as they did, and how tired everyone became by the time we had to leave for Seattle a mere five days later. Let me fill you in.

Port Townsend

Both traditionalists and modern sailors share space and time together near the center of the mountain range that rings superb boating and camping grounds on both sides of the US-Canadian border. So when PRIDE II arrived off the Port Townsend waterfront with all sail set and glided into the marina area where we were to moor, there was a small crowd of enthusiasts strung out along the waterfront. There were at least 30 people (along with the Customs agent) waiting at the dock as we tied up. Several of the those folks were friends from PRIDE II's last visit to Port Townsend during the 1994 West Coast Campaign. Some were friends of the current crew on board. So we quickly began a five day visit during which the crew worked heavy 8 and 9 hour days and played in the evening till heaven knows when. I guess it should come as no surprise that everyone was beat when we somewhat reluctantly departed for our long scheduled arrival in Seattle on August 31.

Our work opportunity in Port Townsend was special for several reasons. From this Captain's point of view, it was the great weather and the cheerful help from so many local residents. A period of clear dry weather had just begun when PRIDE II arrived, and it continues even as I write. So there was no time off for the crew in Port Townsend - only evenings were free. With the help of some very knowledgeable residents about where to shop for arcane nautical widgets and where to find experts for repairs we needed, it was a most productive stay. The whole ship was cleaned inside and out. Laundry was done. The cook bought lots of fresh food. Transportation was provided by Jonathan (Sugar) Flannagan and his wife, Leslie, owners of the topmast schooner, ALCYON. They loaned us their van. (Sugar and Leslie are two of the eight survivors from the sinking of the original PRIDE OF BALTIMORE in 1986.) The Flannagans with their two young daughters aboard run their 65 foot schooner as a training vessel for high school kids - that is, when they aren't sailing to far off places like the South Pacific.

We needed some braising done and the owner of the Port Townsend Foundry, Pete Langley, donated the job to the ship. Brian Toss of the Rigging Loft was instrumental in resolving some rigging issues that were vexing us. And while there are several other folks that helped in a myriad of ways, I will single out Port of Port Townsend, the marina where we moored, as a wonderfully equipped facility considering the remoteness of its location. Overall, our opportunity to get across the North Pacific as quickly as we did and thus have the extra maintenance time in Port Townsend has again put PRIDE II back into the handsome appearance that all who know her have come to expect.

There was one afternoon, however, that became free for the crew after so much steady work on the heels of our Pacific crossing. It was our first Sunday ashore after four weeks at sea. The crew were able to take off after spreading varnish around the railcap and the aft cabin. Most went ashore, but Wes and Jen took CHASSEUR out for a sail. Our trusty wooden lifeboat rarely gets taken for a sail. In fact, it is the only time she has been in the water all this year!

Seattle, Washington

The highlight was sailing in company with the large schooner, ADVENTURESS. She is a 1930's vintage yacht designed by a well know, turn of the century yacht designer by the name of Crowninshield. Today she is used as a sail training vessel. She was skippered by Wayne Chimenti, an alumnus of the original PRIDE. Wayne is also a sailmaker. He and his partner, Captain Al Nejma (another alumnus of the original PRIDE) have been doing a tremendous job of bringing the old girl back to life after many years of neglect by her previous owners.

Our "incident" was the arrangements for docking in Seattle which required a pontoon barge due to the tidal range that can be over 12 feet. For reasons still unclear to all of us, the barge originally slated to be moved into position for PRIDE II's arrival was suddenly unavailable just hours before we were scheduled to dock at noon. The Pride office in Baltimore and our local host, Odyssey, which runs Pier 66 where we are currently moored, had to scramble to get another barge arranged. Not an easy or quick task. So we aboard PRIDE II took advantage of the delay and sailed around the Seattle waterfront - for five hours!

The humorous part of this is how tired the crew was at the end of the sail. One would think that sailing across the ocean was harder work. But on ocean voyages, the sails are set into position and sometimes don't get touched for days. But a tack or a jibe every fifteen minutes to thirty minutes is a lot more work! And I must say that our grandstanding did not go unnoticed. A major Seattle daily ran a terrific color photo (above the fold) on the front page of its Metro section of PRIDE II parading around the waterfront. We were indeed an item of local news!

So far our stay in Seattle has been busy but manageable. Our schedule includes open houses, corporate sails, school tours, and dockside receptions. However, Seattle has to be one of the prettiest locales imaginable in which to sail. During this stay, the weather has added immeasurably to our satisfaction. It has been clear and dry every day so far. This means that we can see all the way from Mount Baker in the north (85 miles away) to Mount Rainier in the south (60 miles distant). We also have a terrific view of the Olympic Mountains, a mere 20-25 miles to the west. We are unable to see the Cascade Mountains, in part because Seattle's hills block them from our view. Also a commercial haze, blown in by breezes from the west and northwest, piles up on the Cascades and hides them from sight.

Nevertheless, our evening sails have been spectacular for good sailing and great vistas. The nearly full moon poised over Mount Rainier as the twilight approaches is breathtaking.

This port city stop also enables the Captain to give some time off to the crew. Each watch will get a total of three free days spread out over six. The crew has definitely earned them. They did a great job during the crossing in both sailing and maintenance. They also worked with a will while we were in Port Townsend. It was more than appropriate to give them as much time off as possible when we arrived in Seattle. Altogether, a lot of work has been accomplished and crew morale is high with the opportunity to get away from the ship.

Meanwhile work on the ship continues. The midships awning ripped on one side due to weakness from many hours in the sun - it has been repaired. The radar has an electric compass that was misbehaving and its manufacturer, Furuno, lived up to their warrantee promise and replaced it. One of the ship's VHF radios developed a problem which is now being fixed. The new engine tachometers and fuel flow meters, made by Flo-Scan here in Seattle, were having problems and are being looked at. There are constant rigging details to attend to.

The ship's compass had been developing cracks in its dome for some time -- so it is out being repaired. And occasionally there is time to attend to some pitching between the deck planking.

Amidst all this fun, I am making plans to move off the ship and come home to Baltimore. My partner, Dan Parrot, is coming out to spend his next two months as Master of PRIDE II. Soon I get to start my two months off the boat by having a little rest. After that, I'll be working in the office on plans for the ship's itinerary this winter, next year, and the year beyond. In November, I return to Panama to take command of the ship for PRIDE II's last leg home after nearly a year away from our home port of Baltimore.

It will be good to be home again.

Cheers,
Captain Miles