The past twenty-four hours have been a whirlwind of sailing, especially for me, as a traditionally land-bound soul.
Last night, just as the sun was going down, we received word that Gannet, the lovely, lovely yacht, had escaped her mooring and wound up on the other side of the harbour.
A mooring is a 4-ton cement weight that gets sunk in the harbour, and it’s marked with buoys. There are lines that are held up with floaters, which can be hooked with a boat pole, and then you can tie your boat to the lines.
Apparently, the shackle that holds the lines came undone on Gannet’s mooring.\
However, before we found that out, we had to rush across the bay, in the fading sunlight, hoping that Gannet hadn’t found rocks or other boats and gotten damaged.
When we finally reached the far side of the harbour, we found Gannet had been pulled to rest safely inside the marina by the local volunteer coast guard. Miraculously, Gannet had run herself aground, on the only sandy bit of beach around. The Coast Guard had just waited for the tide to come in, and pulled her off.
Today, we get to go in, give her a more thorough checking-over, and we get to try and find the mooring.
But, naturally, that had to wait until after we’d seen the first set of races in the America’s Cup this morning. It was shockingly sunny in San Fransisco, and Team New Zealand ran a near-perfect second race*.
*While watching this race I learned about jibs, foiling, flood tides and the “starboard advantage” of the America Cup. Good times.
foxfinding 