The alarm had gone off and I was trying to wake up. It was sooo
warm and cozy in my bunk on board Roamer, and I was regretting my obligation to Jerry. But this was the first day of salmon
season, and I had paid for a commercial license. It was 5:15 am and just starting to get light. I heard Jerry’s engine
start up and I thought, well I can’t sleep in today. Soon there’s a knock on my boat, and Jerry call’s
out, Ron! wake up!. I got coffee started. I grumbled OK, and slowly dressed and gathered my stuff for our fishing adventure.
Jerry said “untie the bow line
Ron, coffee’s ready”. He was putting on his brand new hat. “How do you like it? It was a white officers
hat, with CAPTAIN JERRY” across the front. “You look cool Jerry.” ( kind of corny, I thought to myself)
“ I bought six of them, in case I lose one of them, I got another.” As I poured the coffee, Jerry backed
his boat out of the slip, and then turned to leave the Berkeley marina. I stood in the cabin doorway with my
coffee looking back at the Berkeley hills, they were still dark with little lights, a nice picture I thought. I pray
we make it safely back.
As I stood there, the light was changing. The sun had not risen over the hills
yet, but it’s
golden light was reflecting off the high clouds, making them look like hundreds
of golden sheep. The waters in the marina which had been dark and cold looking, began
to reflect the gold from the clouds, and the wake of the boat sparkled with blue and green and gold. It was so... awesome..............
I’ll never forget it.
In between jobs at the time,
I was enjoying the life of a marina bum, just finding jobs restoring bright work and driving a cab in Oakland at night. Doing
some painting on Jerry’s boat when he asked me to be his fishing partner
for salmon fishing. I didn’t think that was a good idea since Jerry was known for being “accident prone”.
several mis-haps in the marina, and his last boat he ran aground on a sandbar at the mouth of the Colombia river, sank
from under him and he was pulled out of the water by the Coast Guard. Jerry’s
new boat was named Gypsy, and as I painted the cabin, I got a close look at the sexy gypsy (in short shorts) painted by a
pro. Reminded me of “nose art” that artist’s painted on bombers and fighters in ww2. It was a little worn
and faded but could be touched up. I told Jerry that I could restore it because it was too good to paint over. But he
hung his head and said no, we have to paint over it because his wife objected to it.
So the name GYPSY remained but the cute little gypsy girl was covered up. I had said no thanks to Jerry, (about the
job). But his wife came to me at the marina and pleaded with me. Her concern for her husband was real because of a heart
condition. And she worried that if I declined he would go alone... That is why I accepted the job.
Across San Francisco bay and under
the golden gate, the little Gypsy carried two fishing fools out into the Pacific, the rising sun at our backs, blue water
adventure ahead of us. Jerry listened to the radio constantly, hoping to figure out the secret
codes that the other fishermen were using to bring their buddies to a hot spot.
We baited the hooks (30 of them) and
settled down to trolling speed and boredom. A half hour went by, and then,fish on! fish on! Yea we had something!
The net! the net! Jerry yelled. I grabbed the net out of it’s holder and ran to the stern where Jerry was guiding the
salmon, just under the surface. “It’s a big one! he yelled. And indeed he was right, it was the biggest salmon
I had ever seen. I dipped the large hoop of the net down and under the fish and pulled up with all my might. “I
have him!” Just as he broke the surface there was a splash of white water and sudden
release of weight on my pole. I thought that somehow I had lost him. Jerry was groaning no, noo. As it turned out, the
netting was rotten from age and sunlight. This great salmon was too much for the net. “The big one that got away”
(and the first fish) was not a good omen for us. But we shook it off and later that day we brought in 6 or 7 and that wasn’t
too bad. We motored into Half Moon bay around sunset,
“our bouy”
The first night at Half Moon Bay, we found a place to dock. The second time we
came in there was a fierce wind, and no place to dock. Jerry said, “let’s tie up to one of those bouy’s”.
“but those are private” I said. Yeah, but its just for the night.
Jerry let me take over the helm, and back Gypsy into the wind while he hung over the stern with a grappling hook. Jerry’s
hat flew off. I thought that he knew how to pass a line through a bouy, but I was wrong. (He tied a knot!)
Well of course he couldn’t untie it in the morning, so after a brief struggle, he cut it
!!
And every time we came back to that harbor, we passed “our bouy”,
with our short, cut-off line sticking up like a christmas bow, waving hello to
us as we passed by.
“the ocean”
I thought that after the glorious sunrise on the first morning,
nothing could top that. But I was wrong. The Ocean has many faces and moods, it’s a beautiful living thing. And this
is a rare one.
Passing by the Farrallon’s (I could see the islands through a haze). Sunny afternoon, trolling speed, the wind died down and the Ocean becoming very calm. Now
I could feel the warmth of the sun through my jacket and felt like taking a nap. I think I was dozing a little sitting on
a bench seat. There was no feeling of motion, just the steady throb of the engine
It was heaven. Soon I began to take notice the Ocean was becoming very flat, it was eerie. I mean as far as I could
see! Like a mirror! Then as I watched, geometric lines appeared on the surface and then melted away
to be replaced by other geometric lines that seemed to have a pattern but didn’t. I couldn’t believe my eyes,
so I called Jerry to witness this but he didn’t answer (I think he was napping at the wheel) and in a brief time
it was over, changing again to become normal.
“thunder cliffs”
Traveling north, past Drakes Bay, Jerry made radio contact with two boats from
Canada.
And it was decided to team up with them to improve the chance of finding those
elusive salmon. We were going further and further north and away from any safe
harbor. And now it was getting late. Jerry was very nervous, he was almost pacing the deck. The Canadians said they were going
to anchor off-shore. A cold fog was rolling in now and we couldn’t see the cliffs any more. That’s when Jerry
confessed to me, we were in trouble. We had only enough anchor line to use in 25 ft of water. That meant we were going to
be very close to shore (that we couldn’t see now). Dropped anchor at 25 ft, wind and fog. Jerry’s hat went
sailing off and disappeared into the fog. the little Gypsy was bouncing
around. What if the anchor didn’t hold? It could slip and take us in to disaster, how can you sleep knowing that?
We could hear the surf crashing on the shore. Was it a sandy beach, or was it rocks? We didn’t know, but it sounded
like rocks. Jerry had an idea. Set the depth finder at 20 ft with the alarm on, so that if we dragged into that depth, the
alarm would go off and we would deal with it.
That seemed logical for our situation. I went to bed wearing my life jacket. Twenty minutes later as we are just getting
to sleep, the alarm blasts and we almost jump out of our skins. Jerry’s eyes are glued to the depth finder, it hasn’t
changed. What happened? It was a school of fish passing beneath us. They set off the alarm. Settling
down again but only for another few minutes, the alarm sounds again. Another school of fish. Jerry turned off the alarm and
I decided not to sleep in case we hit the rocks. After about an hour I checked
one last time, then lay down. Jerry was snoring his usual performance. He was one of those snorers that started out quietly,
gradually building up to operatic crescendos ending with snorts and coughs. Then it would be quiet for a while, until it began
anew. I awoke, uncomfortably aware that my air mattress had leaked down to zero again. But hey! we’re not on the
rocks! we’re alive!
“
ghosts in the fog “
The Gypsy’s auto pilot or steering mechanism we called “Hal “for
short or hallelujah if it was working. Hal had been repaired twice, and broken now for the third time. Jerry and I took
turns at the wheel, he didn’t like the job, so I was doing most of it. I didn’t mind it until one day we became
engulfed in fog right down to the water. I could see only 30 or 40 ft of ocean in any direction. It was like we were in a
bowl, the water moved by us but everything else remained motionless. Then, straight ahead
was the shadowy shape of another fishing boat! It seemed to drift with the fog. It must be going in the same direction
as we because it’s always the same distance to us. I called out to Jerry to take a look at it. I turned my head for
a second and when I looked back......... it was gone!
Jerry just thought that was so funny, he started making jokes about me seeing things. Too long at this wheel I thought, nothing showed up when he came to see. So I stayed
with it, determined not to let my mind play tricks on me. After another 20 min. There it is again! And then it would
disappear, I swear I could see the whole silhouette and make out details, any second I expected it to come through the fog.......but
it didn’t.
I finally called Jerry to the wheel, went and laid down, resting my eyes thinking
about the “ghost”.
“Drakes
bay”
Drakes bay is not very scenic or sheltered but it is historic and I felt honored somehow to visit there. We always
anchored within sight of town, but we never went in. The bay has a sandy bottom and we had some trouble with our anchor dragging
a little. And now we were back again for the last time....... as it turns out.
What a wonderful dinner we had............... vienna sausages and baked beans. yuk.
Out on the deck to smoke a cigarette looking at all the boats around us,
there must be around 30 or so. All had on their anchor lights, and many had their cabin lights on. I was amazed at how
many other fishing boats came in here. It must be such a safe place to spend the night. As we settled in for the night,Jerry
said we should wake at 5:30 and follow these boats, maybe they know a good spot. I repaired my air mattress again and dropped
off to sleep. Next thing I know, Jerry is shaking me saying “Ron, Ron wake up! We gotta go! All of the
boats have left without us!” The air had leaked out of my mattress again.
Looking out the window I saw he was right, not a boat in sight. Jerry was at the stern fiddling around with the hooks and
lures. I came out of the cabin with coffee in hand, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Looking around in the pre-dawn light,
I began to realize something was wrong, we didn’t seem to be in the same location as we were the night before.
At first I didn’t say anything, thinking I must be wrong, not awake or something. I need more coffee to clear
my head. Finally, I had to ask. “Jerry where are we?” He gave
me a strange look and said Drakes Bay of course. Jerry was busy with the hooks, and as I stood there with him, the dawn light
began to show more of our surroundings and It “ dawned “ on me.......... we are not in Drakes Bay!
I told that to Jerry and he got a little indignant and pointed out some
distant lights.
“See, those are the lights of the town.” ( I thought, could he be right?)
But it didn’t make sense with anything else. Then I studied them and realized those were the anchor lights of the other boats! (not the town) They hadn’t left! We had
left! Jerry still didn’t believe me, but I pointed out the landmarks that could only be seen from the Ocean,
and we were in the Ocean! Not in Drakes Bay!
It was a little scary to think about, that we had dragged
the anchor all that way, (past all those boats ) not hitting any of them. About a half mile. My thoughts went back to
the night we spent near the rocks and I thanked God the anchor held that night.
A few days later, we decided to call it quits and return
to Berkeley. Motoring up the coast, Jerry said he wanted to nap for a while , but to wake him when we got to “the gate”
because he knew how to handle a boat through the “ potato patch” As we neared the headlands the Ocean became
rougher and rougher, something fell off a shelf and made a loud noise. I was sure Jerry would wake up, but he didn’t.
Now we were really rocking and I called him several times but I couldn’t leave the wheel. It got so rough that I couldn’t
sit at the wheel, and I had to brace myself with one foot against the side of the cabin. We bounced and slammed and still
Jerry didn’t wake up. Finally we were under the bridge and the water
calmed down to smooth sailing. Thats when Jerry woke up!
All six of CAPTAIN JERRY hats are at the bottom of the Pacific now, and I say a prayer of thanks
that we are not.
A true story by Ron Francis ............ (c) .. 2009
