A Giant Outlet in Downtown Petaluma

A while back I was busy doing something, close to nothing, but different than the day before when I received an email from the wife of a local artist which asked the seemingly simple question, "can you build a large, fiberglass outdoor sculpture?"

I replied that I could, but I'd need a lot more information.  How large is large?  Where is it going outdoors?  What kind of budget do I have to work with?  That sort of thing.

We ended up having a brief phone conversation before I was introduced to Joel Jones of Basal Ganglia Studios, who presented me with this concept sketch:


That's a Photoshopped image of an historical building downtown next to an electrical power substation.  Basal Ganglia had been funded to add a sculptural installation to the side of the building.  My role: fabricate a giant rendition of a household electrical outlet with a cord plugged into it and leading into the ground.

No problem.

I had a few other projects in my queue ahead of this one, but once I'd started, it took a few weeks, a whole lot of fiberglass, and a few hundred pounds of steel to end up with this:


For more details and photos of how it was made, read on...

Coming Soon

I've been working on something big.  It'll be done soon.  Then...  the unveiling.


Stay tuned...

2014 Petaluma Hobby Expo, Debuting my Ironman Costume

Last year I was invited to bring a couple of characters to walk around and spice things up at the local hobby expo run by the Sonoma County chapter of the International Plastic Modelers Society.  It was a pretty good time and I got a quick chance to dress up and show off.  

This year I was invited to come back and have a few characters in costume again.

A picture is worth a thousand words, so here's two  thousand words about the day:




For thousands more, read on...

At Long Last: Sailing Home Aboard the Heart of Gold

If you've been reading my blog for any amount of time, you may remember that I dropped my boat, the Heart of Gold, off at Svendsen's Boat Works back in June so that they could replace the mainmast damaged in a disagreement with a drawbridge.  While she was there, I went ahead and had them haul her out of the water for new bottom paint and some much needed maintenance.  Five an a half months later, having missed a gorgeous sailing season on San Francisco Bay, I finally got a chance to go sailing again. 

The day started off great on the bay.  The night ended with me and my father freezing cold in a thick fog with barely any working navigational electronics before running the boat aground in my own slip in the marina where I keep her.  If you're up for a somewhat painful story about a good trip turned bad, read on...


We got underway around noon from Alameda.  As we were leaving the berth at the boatyard, we passed another Islander Pacific 41' like mine only not as pretty:

On our way out of the Oakland Estuary, we were keeping pace with this snazzy little motoryacht:


As we were heading out, I noticed that the depth sounder wasn't working.  This will become relevant later.

Clear of the channel, we hoisted the sails and did a bit of tacking back and forth south of Yerba Buena Island just to make sure the rigging was all in good order.  The wind was going exactly the wrong direction for the transit North, so we cheated a bit and motored under the eastern side of the Bay Bridge:


I know there's plenty of room for my little boat to fit under this bridge, but I still find myself getting nervous when I pass under bridges now.  It doesn't help that the perspective always tricks you into thinking the mast is going to touch:


Once we were clear of the bridge and past the lee side of Treasure Island, I killed the engine so we could finally enjoy a bit of proper sailing.  It was only a couple of hours worth of beating into the wind, but I can't tell you how happy I was to finally have my boat back.

As we made our way north, the wind slacked off and the current picked up.  Eventually it was all we could do to hold our position against the current.  Before too long I had to admit defeat, point straight into the wind, furl the sails, and proceed under power.  Here's a quick shot of the Golden Gate fading into the mist behind us:


Passing Red Rock:


Dad spent most of the day bundled up in the cockpit and hanging out:


Meanwhile, I got another chance to exorcise my bridge clearance paranoia under the San Rafael-Richmond Bridge:


As we passed marker six, I snapped a pic showing the wake from the current rushing past the buoy:


It was slow going across San Pablo Bay on the way to the Petaluma River Entrance Channel.  We reached the first daymarker just after the sun had set:



The channel transit was pretty uneventful.  It wasn't until we passed under the Highway 37 causeway bridge at Black Point that things started getting interesting.  Suddenly the fog started to close in and visibility dropped to about 100 yards.  Unable to see the river ahead, I had to steer by gauging the distance to the bank on either side as we headed up the river.

Earlier in the year, a sailboat sank about halfway up the river in the middle of the channel by the tiny community of Lakeville.  As luck would have it, visibility opened up and the tide was so low that we had no time spotting the mostly submerged wreck and avoiding it.  To make it even easier, someone in a parking lot ashore had left their headlights on and they were pointed right at the mast of the sunken boat.  Thank you, whoever you were.

After clearing Lakeville, things got much worse.  The trickiest part of the upper Petaluma River transit is a turn called Cloudy Bend.  At high tide the river looks to be almost 200 feet wide at this point, but there's only about 80 feet of that width that's deep enough to transit.  The rest is only about knee deep at high tide.  At low tide, it's a huge peninsula of soft mud.  If there was any place we'd get stuck, that was it.

As we were coming up on the turn, I slowed to about 1.5 knots and started to favor the left bank of the river to give the shallow part as wide of a berth as possible.  As we were making the turn, the fog thickened.  There are two buoys that mark the edge of the shallow at Cloudy Bend.  We only saw one of them even though we had to have passed within about fifteen feet of the second one. 

Once I was confident that we were clear of the shallows, I picked up speed again.  Just as I was remarking about how we'd gotten through the worst of it, the boat ran aground.  I never even saw the bank where we touched bottom even though you could reach out and touch it from the deck.  As I backed off, the rudder got stuck in the mud astern.  In the darkness and fog, there was no frame of reference to tell when I finally started creeping forward again, so just when I noticed that I'd gotten headway again, I managed to slide right back into the mud ahead.  The tide was so low that the boat barely fit in the river sideways.  I ended up going back and forth this way three or four times before finally getting the boat turned enough to clear the banks on both sides.

That's when I looked down at the compass and realized that I'd somehow gotten us turned around and headed back downriver.  If it was happening to someone else, I'd've been laughing at them.

After a bit more grounding and turning and grounding and turning around, I got us pointed back in the right direction.  Proceeding blindly upriver, I'd slowed to a crawl to avoid doing any damage in case we grounded again.

We did.  I don't remember how many times I managed to touch bottom, but the saving grace is that the bottom of the river is soft mud almost everywhere.  Since Dad and I both know the river pretty well, I was confident that we could make the rest of the transit while avoiding the few places where there were rocks or structures along the banks.  Still, the last half mile or so worth of the passage took nearly two hours as we crept along.

As we headed upriver, we kept looking out for any of the lights that should've been visible ahead.  Even a hint of a glow would've been useful.  We could hear the traffic on Highway 101 to the west, but never saw any of the lights ashore until we were at the entrance to the Petaluma Marina.

That should've been the point where I was home free, but the City of Petaluma has neglected the Marina for a number of years and the silt has made it much shallower than it's advertised depth of ten feet.  As we were passing C Dock in the middle of the marina, right in the middle of the fairway, I ran aground again.  Cranking up the throttle, I was able to force my way through the mud to my berth.

Once we were close enough to reach the dock, dad put a bow line around a cleat and I tried to spring the stern in.  Even with the engine running full speed ahead there was no moving.  I was aground in my own home berth where the boat has been moored most days and nights for the past four years.

Having arrived alive, we counted our blessings, passed the rest of the mooring lines over to the dock, and headed home.  That was just after 2330.

At about 0130 I came back.  The tide had risen slightly so I could pull the stern in and tie the boat securely alongside the dock.

Taken for all in all, I'd call it a successful shakedown cruise.  Now I just need to troubleshoot the depth sounder and replace the radar so we can avoid these problems in the future.  I'm done with navigation by the Braille method.

SSS Compass Rose, Off to the Yard

Tuesday morning started bright and early aboard the Sea Scout Ship Compass Rose on the Petaluma River:

The ship was headed down to Richmond to be hauled out of the water for some new bottom paint.  While there, we're also pulling the starboard propeller off to have it straightened out.  Apparently we like that prop a lot and we've managed to knock it into something no less than four times since the last haulout.

Since the trip to the yard happened on short notice and it was to be the last day of summer before the crew had to start school again, the only scout who was able to make the trip was Brian, the ship's bosun:

We still had my niece and nephew aboard as well as Melissa's daughter Elise:

Fortunately, they managed to keep themselves entertained:

We left the marina in Petaluma at max ebb, so it was a pretty quick transit to Richmond:

Upon arrival, the Skipper and I went ashore and toured the very crowded yard:

I'm not sure what the haulout is going to cost, but there was no shortage of commercial and government boats there, so it must be cheap:

There was also this gorgeous Chinese junk:

While we were ashore one of the yard dogs found his way aboard the Rose.  His name is "Whitney."

Having checked in with the office and verified that all was secure on board, we left the ship alongside the dock to wait for space to open up so she can be yanked out of the water.

More to come.  Stay tuned...

2011 Summer Cruise Aboard the SSS Compass Rose

About a week and a half ago, the Sea Scout Ship Compass Rose set out from her homeport in Petaluma, California on her annual summer cruise.  There were nine scouts on board as well as my niece and nephew.  As they dawdled along in the Sacramento River Delta, ports of call included Vallejo, Rio Vista, Sacramento, and Westgate Landing.  I was aboard taking pictures and enjoying this rare opportunity to relax.


There are tons of pictures and more details about the trip after the jump

Haulout and Rigging Repairs for the Heart of Gold

For those of you who don't know, back in March I took the Heart of Gold to downtown Petaluma to go out drinking with some friends.  I like to bring the boat downtown because it puts me within walking distance of all of the shops, restaurants, and bars (or stumbling/crawling distance as the case may be).  Unfortunately, as I made my approach to the D Street drawbridge, the bridge tender didn't tell me that due to some sort of controls problem, the bridge hadn't opened all the way. 


Even though I've taken my boat through this same bridge many times (often at higher tides) This time I didn't have quite enough clearance to pass under the bridge.  Instead, I caught the forestay on the bridge.  Since I was trying to avoid holding up traffic on D Street, I was moving pretty quick when it hit and the impact was enough to tweak the roller furler, mangle the bowsprit, and snap the welds that held the mastead to the top of the mast.  The mast itself may have been bent beyond repair as well.


Luckily nobody was hurt.


Having a potentially broken mast and a bunch of wrecked rigging means no sailing.  No sailing means my sailboat is basically not a sailboat.  This will not do.


The plan was to take the boat down to the yard for repairs as quickly as possible.  The only problem is that not long after the whole fiasco, I was shipped off to Japan for Operation Tomodachi.  Then I came back to the crazy schedule I needed to run in order to be ready for Maker Faire.


Finally on Monday I set out from the Petaluma Marina with my father aboard, bound for Svendsen's Boat Works in Alameda.  I picked Svendsen's because back when I was a 14-year old sea scout, they gave us a good deal on the haulout when we were working on the old wooden 45-foot picket boat that became the Sea Scout Ship Compass Rose.  I liked the facility and the location and felt like it was a good idea to go back there.


The transit down to Alameda was pretty unremarkable.  Dad and I left the marina at about 1030.  Three hours later we were finally clear of the Petaluma River channel and in fairly open water.  When the waves started picking up, things got a bit interesting for a moment.


Back when the masthead broke off, it was held in place by one of the old wire halyards that had hooked itself across the top of the mast.  In the calm water of the Petaluma River, it's stayed in place for the past three months.  Once we were in a bit of a rolling sea, the broken masthead finally started to work its way down the wire halyard. 


The main problem with this is that it might eventually decide to come down altogether.  In the process, the roller furler for the jib would kink or bend and possibly tear up the jib itself.  Turning for a favorable wind, I managed to get one of the rope halyards wrapped around the upper spreaders and pull it tight enough to hold the damaged rigging in place.  If the rigging didn't look messed up before, it definitely looked bad now:


While I was monkeying around with all of that, Dad was at the wheel:


Early in the afternoon we passed Red Rock:


As we entered the open Bay, I was glad to see that the weather was fairly calm:


In case anyone's wondering how I could've hit a bridge, I'd like to point out that it's very difficult to guage how much clearance your mast will have while standing in the cockpit.  So when the bridge is opened up, you have to trust that the operator has indeed opened it as far as he needs to in order for you to pass under it.  To illustrate this point, here's a shot of my mast as I was about to pass under eastern span of the Bay Bridge.  In this case I had about a hundred feet of clearance:

It still looks like it's about to hit.

Having passed safely under the bridge, we made our way down the Oakland Estuary toward Alameda.  Along the way, we passed Coast Guard Island:


After a bit of looking, we finally found our way to the dock at Svendsen's Boat Works and moored.  Here's another shot of my jacked-up rigging:


As we left the yard, a lone raven stood watch in the yard:


The next day I got the first call from the yard with their initial range of possible damage estimates.  I'd rather not post numbers, but suffice it to say that their worst-case estimate was about half of my total earnings from last year.  Thank goodness I have insurance.

Stay tuned...

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Sometimes It's the Little Things

Saw this today.  Had to smile...

Now back to my regularly scheduled bloggage.

Sea Scout Trip to the Napa Mini Regatta

Last weekend I went out with the Petaluma Sea Scout Ship Compass Rose so the crew could participate in the Napa Mini Regatta.  This is an annual event where ships crews from all over the San Francisco Bay area get a chance to practice the various events and exercise the skills they'll need when competitive regatta season begins.

Over the last few years, recruiting has been a challenge (I blame the internet) and the crew has been too small to effectively compete.  This year we're starting the season with a solid eleven members, so things are looking good.

On Friday I met the ship down at the Marina:


We were underway by 1800 and I spent the downriver transit in the pilothouse making sure everyone was on top of their game.  As it turns out, this group doesn't need much supervision and all I was doing was drinking coffee and answering the occasional question:


As we approached the Highway 37 Bridge at the mouth of the river, the sun set:


While crossing San Pablo Bay toward the Napa River, Jeremiah (another adult volunteer) grilled up dinner:


While the crew waited patiently in the cabin:


By 2300 we were moored outboard of the Rio Vista Sea Scout ship, a restored Vietnam-era fast patrol boat.  Not long after that, everyone turned in so they could be well rested for a full day Saturday.

Saturday morning found me and Jeremiah in charge of the knot tying event.  Our task was to give remedial training to those folks who were less than 100% confident in their knot tying abilities.  Each scout had to correctly tie each of ten knots frequently used in boating.  For those few who were overtly cocky about their skills, we took it upon ourselves to challenge them to a race to see who could tie them faster.  I'm happy to say that despite my total lack of recent practice (I hadn't tied knots for speed in at least fifteen years) that there was only one well-drilled youth who was able to match me in a tie.  The next closest took half again as long as me to tie all ten.
While we were running the knot event, the rest of the Napa Sea Scout Base was crawling with other activities.  Sadly, I only got a few snapshots.  Tragically, this is the best of them:


During the lunch break, the crews went down to their ships to eat and socialize:


After lunch I left Jeremiah to the knot tying and went down to check out the flotilla drill training.  This event tests the crew's abilities in precision rowing and maneuvering of an eight-oared rowboat:

From what I witnessed, all of the crews have a long ways to go.

Once the events closed for the day, the crew got cleaned up and headed into town to the awards ceremony.  Four of them are still new enough that they still don't have dress uniforms:


Exhausted, I ended up sleeping through most of the transit back to Petaluma.  Here's a shot of the crew pumping out the holding tank once we were back at the marina:

Here's an inspired self-portrait:


And here's an angry bird:


It was a fun trip and went by pretty quickly, but I was glad to be home:


Stay tuned for more adventures...

More HALOween Pictures.

For those of you who didn't get enough, here's a few more snapshots from our outing on Halloween.

First up, here I am dressed as Leonard Church at the ATM:


Here's me and a couple of the guys posing with some girl who's boyfriend wanted to photograph with us:



Then there's this high school girl posing with me:


Here's Sarge before he put his gloves on:


And Doc all geared up before we pulled his undersuit back up into place under his chestplate:



And finally, here's another embarrassing pic from the build process:


I've been scouting around for appropriate locations for a decent quality photoshoot.  Stay tuned...