Giant Aircraft Carrier Roaring Right at my Tiny Windsurfer

San Francisco Windsurfing Bay Crossing Race
(c) Copyright 2021 David Dilworth

Racing Windsurfers in the Golden Gate Bridge shadow.

Starting from the esteemed St Francis Yacht Club, zipping across San Francisco Bay to Fort Cronkhite’s Horseshoe Bay, then back. In the 1980s this SF Bay Crossing was one of the earliest world class windsurfing races.

Dawn revealed a gorgeous San Francisco Spring day for a windsurfing race.

Cloud and fog free meaning sunny blue skies. By 10:am our wind was already strong. A flood tide made for smooth water which lets us go as fast as possible because the current was pouring into the bay along with the wind.

The opposite tide, when the water is pouring out under the bridge to the Pacific — in opposition to the wind pushing in, makes steep choppy waves dictating slower going and a lot less fun.

Windsurfing at Carmel Lagoon

Dozens and dozens of world class racers were prepared with all the latest 80’s boards and beautiful sails. I was ready for a fun race even though my old “standard” windsurfer was going up against a few dozen factory sponsored racers with the fastest light fiberglass boards and the latest sails.

Windsurfing race starts are rarely anything but near chaos. Nevertheless, I managed a reasonable take-off, only a few seconds behind the line as the horn went off with only a dozen or so ahead of me. I’d started in the top third.

Having checked the tide tables earlier I’d tactically decided to go up along the shore, rather than farther out where the flood tide was stronger.

I’d learned this trick from a sailor who once won a San Francisco bay sailboat race by anchoring. While everyone else got swept backwards by the tide, his anchor kept him in place till the tide turned, and he easily glided away with the trophy.

Starting about mid way down the line headed into shore, gave me an advantage over the dozen or so racers closer to shore when they needed to tack back out into the bay. Racing rules demanded all of them had to give way to me by either dipping behind me, or waiting till I passed them.

So I’d gained several positions by my first tack. By the time I had to turn offshore the field was quite spread out. So I wasn’t handicapped by having to wait as so many others had to wait for me.

My shoreline tactic worked so well, that on my second near shore turn (tack) I was pleased to see World Champion Robbie Nash, just even with me, only a stone’s throw further offshore. To be back even with me, Robbie must have made a mistake of some sort at the start. Once we both turned offshore and got back up to speed — he steadily glided ahead and I never saw him up close again.

We turn to head across the bay at a buoy near the Golden Gate Bridge about a mile (~2 kilometers), upwind from the Yacht Club start. Sailing upwind to it took about 20 minutes, and the racing crowd was more spread out by then.

As I made the buoy turn and started across the bay, conditions were excellent. Wind was steady and strong, and water was smooth like good vanilla ice cream. And going fast on that perfect beam reach was my favorite. Especially the Going Fast part. So collecting my aim to settle down for the mile and a half (3 kilometer) crossing, I tried counting the Windsurfers ahead of me. It’s not exactly reliable to count boats while zooming and bouncing along. I counted 13 twice, and was quickly catching a group of three. The next few ahead of them, in the leading set of 10, were another 30 seconds further ahead of them.

By just sailing cleanly I’d soon caught up with the three and passed them with a smile and a wave. As I passed the last one I heard him shout to his buddies — “Lets wait for the ship.”

“Ship? What ship?”

I was so focused on catching up and seeing no boats ahead I’d neglected to look way up wind to my left, out under the magnificent Golden Gate Bridge.

And when I did — my eyes opened WIDE.

There — headed at high speed straight down the middle of the Bay, pointed to intersect my path in the next minute, was the biggest ship I’ve ever seen — a towering military gray US Navy Aircraft Carrier about 1,000 feet long (300 meters) and 200 feet tall (66 meters).

Normally, huge container ships and freighters cruise into San Francisco Bay at a leisurely rate so we can semi-easily run circles around them. But one glance at the Aircraft Carrier’s bow spouting huge waves – it was obviously not arriving at anything resembling a calm pace. It was Zooming, with big angry waves pouring UP off its bow. At speed Aircraft Carriers can maintain 40 mph (65 kph).

 

I instantly realized I had an important decision to make asap. Stop and wait while a dozen or more competitors caught up. Or I could race ahead of the Aircraft Carrier.

The first thing I considered is how important it is to never sail behind an island. This is because the wind behind (downwind of) any obstacle like an island is mostly light or even missing; it is definitely fluky or gusty. Light or gusty winds behind this moving island would at best slow me down a lot; likely too much.

Worst case is a gust tossing me off my board into the path of this monster boat with 20 foot (6 meter) propellers that would easily turn me into Great White Shark lunch-meat.

Well, this was a wind-blocking island all right, however with a subtle difference.

Making it more interesting was the idea that this island was speeding along — in the same direction as the wind. And about the same speed too.

Thinking about it while zooming along at top speed (I do think & act fairly well in emergencies), I realized this iron “island” was not only moving in the same direction, it was going about the same speed as the Bay breeze; both about 20 mph (30 kph).

What that meant was the normal “hole” (lack) of wind behind the “island” should be missing. So if I chose to go for it and cross in front of the Aircraft Carrier, instead of fluky or gusty winds, I should have the same strong clean-ish wind that was everywhere else on the Bay.

Then I checked the water ahead as fairly smooth (wind and current both flooding in the Bay) and realized I wouldn’t be at a big risk of falling right in front of the giant ship — if the wind followed my physics estimate.

After putting this all together in a matter of instants, I took careful assessment of the Aircraft Carrier’s speed and mine and determined that I could safely cross in front of the ship by at least 15 seconds (possibly 20) and maybe a couple hundred yards.

Years of gliding, shusshing and slamming this particular board and sail across open Pacific Ocean swells at high speeds had given me the skills and confidence I could handle this solidly.

So never slowing down — I decided to go for it.

Continuing to monitor the progress of “100,000 tons of diplomacy” at high speed over my left shoulder, I proceeded straight across its path. But, from my point of view he was headed straight across my path. One notable difference was the ship wouldn’t notice in the slightest if I ran into him.

Then ensued several serious moments of strong concentration rechecking all the parameters I knew were vital, ready to pull up and wait if anything turned for the worse. So I continued zooming out to cross in front of this threatening gray military monster.

As I approached the point in the water of our two paths crossing, I kept looking over my left shoulder — and all was staying fine, nothing changed. The only difference was now I was looking more and more UP at the ship. It was HUGE. I was looking up at the ship that was so tall (200 feet), the tower appeared to nearly scrape the bottom (220 feet) of the Golden Gate Bridge !

By now I had picked and aimed at the spot on the water where I had to reach without falling or slowing, to be safe from getting run over by the steel behemoth and shredded by its giant 20 foot propellers.

A stance similar to waiting for a tennis serve, I kept my arms perfectly ready for anything, waiting for any weakening or gusting of the wind as the ship approached. But, my physics guesstimate worked ! And the wind never dropped or even gusted !

Then, with me at top speed, gliding, shusshing and slamming the board across the water . . . just as I was reaching the crossing point, I’m almost there — and

HOOOONNNNNNNK !!!

The loudest horn I have ever heard. LOUD and LONG.

Thankfully not quite physically powerful enough to shake my steely concentration on staying upright and going fast, but quite a shock nevertheless.

So I kept zooming along — unabated; my board bashing and splashing the water at about 25 mph (35 kph). With me fiercely focused on making it to that spot in the water where I knew Id be safe.

And the wind stayed strong and smooth.
As I literally glided across the safety spot I’d picked (on another smooth piece of water) a second LOUDER and much closer—

HOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNKKKKK !!!

Ripped and Blasted the atmosphere.

But, I still wasn’t going to chance looking up until I had passed that magic spot. Staying focused and alert for anything physical that might cause me to crash. And…

Done.

I’d made it.

The water was smooth, the wind still strong and steady — and I was safe and still skipping across the bay.

Once comfortably past the safe position, I dared to look back at the oncoming ship now slightly behind me. I may have looked across at it the first few times, but by now it was so close that 95 percent of the Warship was UP from me.

I looked up and saw the front of that gray Aircraft Carrier ringed with sailors in their shining whites lining the entire front of the ship as it roared majestically under the Golden Gate Bridge and into San Francisco Bay. (I later learned this was an official assembly of sailors ringing the deck called “Manning the Rail.”)

After the second Blast / Honk, it was hard not to imagine all the sailors were glaring at me for stealing their thunder as they arrived in Port and the Captain was honking right at me. (I wouldn’t blame him if he was still mad at me all these years later.)

But, of course they didn’t care about me. That was purely my imagination. They were honking to let the whole city know the gosh darned US Navy had proudly arrived !

A few more seconds I was well clear of where the massive ship would leave a wake that could toss me. But it was still not safe to look back any more, as by then I would’ve had to twist my neck too far behind me. So I zoomed on knowing there would be no one further contesting my well earned position before I reached Fort Cronkhite on the Marin side of the bay. Just before the harbor I did close up somewhat on a gaggle of three more racers, but there wasn’t enough time to pass them or anyone else.

When I did reach the far side with my fellow racers, It seemed like a full 10 minutes before any other stragglers came in as we all rested on the steeply sloped “beach.” I’d arrived at Fort Cronkhite in 11th place. The first non-sponsored racer. On a “standard Windsurfer” no less !

Not a bad start nor a boring day. That was so much more satisfying, in so many ways, than I’d ever dreamed when the day was getting started.

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Notes: To legally sail under the Golden Gate Bridge the top of your ship cannot exceed 220 ft (67.1 m) at high tide.

A typical US Aircraft Carrier Flight Deck where the sailors were at attention is at least 50 feet (22 meters) above the water. The Aircraft Carrier towers however reach about 200 feet (120 meters) — meaning the giant ship WAS nearly scraping the Golden Gate Bridge underside !

This entry was posted in Adventure, Fun, Success, Too cool.