I’ve always wanted to spend the night on the boat in Emerald Bay—probably the most popular destination for boaters and sightseers at Lake Tahoe—and on Friday, August 12, Debbie and I went for it. We got up to Tahoe City Marina quite early, then motored our way the 14.8 miles down the lake to the entrance to Emerald Bay, taking exactly three hours to get there. A narrow channel marked by red and green buoys shows the relatively narrow entrance to the bay, as there is sort of a “sandbar” at the mouth of the cove. The water depth plunges to more than 100 feet within a few minutes of entering the bay.

The day we went was quite busy, with everything from personal watercraft to paddle-wheelers plying the waters around Fannette Island and stopping over at Vikingsholm. We slowly toured the bay, then decided to get a buoy for the night at the boat camping park on the north shore of the bay. We tied up at the dock by the buoy field, and I hiked up to the park host’s campsite and plunked down $35 for the last buoy available for that night. When I walked back down to the dock, Debbie was chatting with some campers who’d walked down to admire Splendido. Catalinas are so popular, it seems everyone we meet has owned a Catalina 22 or bigger at one time or another. We motored over to the buoy, double-tied to it (I didn’t want to lose a wink of sleep on this boat-camping trip), grilled a couple of steaks, and sat out in the cockpit as the light dimmed, admiring the rising moon and the surrounding beauty.

The next morning, Debbie woke up with a head-cold, and high winds were forecast for later in the day, so I figured we should get a n early start and head back up north. After a beautiful early-morning motor past D.L. Bliss and Rubicon Bay, the engine started running rough, and eventually quit. Fortunately, a light breeze showed up, so we sailed the rest of the way back to Tahoe City. I called ahead and asked for the buoy-boat to help us get on the hook. The wind died completely when we were 75 yards from the buoy, so young Addison threw us a line and tugged us over to the buoy. The engine problem was quickly resolved: clogged fuel filters, which I swapped out the following day. She fired right up and purred like a kitten, much to my relief.

Fair winds and smooth sailing. DB

When I first moved to Northern Nevada in 1987, one of the first places I discovered was Hidden Beach near Incline Village at Lake Tahoe. Back in the day, Hidden Beach was a favorite spot for au naturel sunbathers, which is one of those things that you think is pretty cool at first and then get used to after about 15 minutes. (“Look! There’s another one!” gets played out pretty quickly.) In the drought years of the late 1980s, my friends and I would swim literally for hours without stopping, because the water was noticeably warmer than it seems to be today. Over the years, though, Hidden Beach became a little less hidden (you can’t help but notice its Caribbean-colored waters from nearby Hwy 28 on the way to Sand Harbor), and frequented by throngs who make the trek from the south end of Incline Village, where there’s some parking, along the guardrail about ¼ mile or more down to the sands of this relaxing little cove. Today, the Parks folks have installed restroom facilities and even a staircase leading down to the beach, so it’s more accessible than ever. On Sunday, August 7^th, Debbie and I decided to motor Splendido over to Hidden Beach on a windless morning to check it out and maybe go for a swim. Tahoe was placid and gorgeous on the way over, and we got a kick out of watching the depth meter go from 20 feet to a blinking “bottomlessness” as we crossed the state line off of the point where Crystal Bay begins and the water color changes from emerald-blue to blue-black.

When we pulled in to the cove, there were five or six other boats already anchored or pulled up on the beach, so we kept to the west side of the cove and anchored near a Catalina 30. I immediately dove in for a swim, while Debbie relaxed on the foredeck with a glass of wine. After not too long, the owner of a wakeboarding boat that was pulled up on the beach decided it was time to crank up Billy Idol’s White Wedding for the enjoyment of everyone within a 1/2 mile. Luckily, someone asked him to turn it down, so we were able to hang out for an hour or so before the wind began to kick up and we felt the pull to get out and sail. Breezes on the way back were in the 15-20 mph range, with pretty decent swells on the east side of the lake, making for a more “sea-going” experience than our earlier sails along the west shore. Splendido handled it all beautifully, and we got back to Tahoe City Marina  around 7:30 p.m.

Fair winds and smooth sailing. DB

 

Last Sunday, Debbie and attacked our “honey-dos” around the house and then took off early to swap the jib with the 150 genoa, as winds promised to be light and relatively steady for a summer sail on Sunday afternoon. We imnediately set out to see if we could get over to Skunk Harbor to check out a possible overnighter anchorage, but the winds were easterly and fickle, so we checked out Carnelian Bay instead and enjoyed a little sailboat “window shopping” with binoculars, checking out the lovely homes and cabins along that verdant shore. After cruising south to Homewood, we decided to head back and just hang out on the buoy. Debbie had prepared some hierloom tomato and mozzarella “caprese” sandwiches, and we spent the waning hours of the afternoon watching the changing light on the water and enjoying the swells gently rocking the boat. Work, for both of us, has been a bit challenging lately, so it was a welcome escape to just relax and enjoy the beauty of Lake Tahoe. One of the interesting things we saw was a very fast-looking speedboat called “Dr. Evil,” which was rumored to be owned by Mike Meyers of “Austin Powers” fame. It came in and out of the channel several times while we sat there (we’re only about 20 yards away from the channel entrance), but no sign of Mike. One of Tahoe City Marina’s staff laid that rumor to rest as we were picked up later that evening. “I’ve helped that boat out with gas a few times. I really don’t think it’s owned by Mike Meyers.” he said, with a shrug. “But we do see a few celebrities up here from time to time.”

 

Fair winds and smooth sailing. DB

Last Friday afternoon, Debbie and I met up with Patti Bell and Mike Bryant, two dear friends from Reno who are always up for a good time. We arrived at Tahoe City Marina about 4:30 in the afternoon and set sail for a lovely light-air cruise. As the sun lowered in the sky around 7:45 p.m., we sailed back, put Splendido on the buoy, and enjoyed a wonderful dinner of short-rib burgers and a delicious summer salad. Somewhere along the way, we lost a fork overboard, but once the water warms up, I’ll dive in and take a look around our mooring block. Right now, the water’s still…how can I put it? Refreshing. Damn refreshing!

Fair winds and smooth sailing! DB

Having learned our lesson about Tahoe’s intense sun, we paid a visit to the REI store in Reno and got some big hats and cover-ups for those bright sunny days in the cockpit at 6,229 feet in elevation.

After our adventures on July 1-2, we spent the night at home in Reno to take care of Parker and Isabella, our two “babies” (cats), then cruised up Monday the 4th to get in an afternoon sail before the fireworks show at 9:30 p.m.

Winds were breezy and building, so we headed SE into the center of the lake. Debbie wanted to play with steering by “feel,” so I worked the mainsheet and jib lines while we raced toward Heavenly. At one point, we hit 6.9 knots on a broad reach, and Splendido seemed to really enjoy going fast. A 35-footer started chasing us, so we made a game out of it and worked on taut sail trim and holding a tight close-hauled line, which took us up toward Sugar Pine State Park. About a mile from Sugar Pine, the chase boat overtook us, so we relaxed and just enjoyed the 15-20 knot winds and warm weather.

Heading back north, we picked up some canyon breezes and got back in the vicinity of the fireworks barge a lot sooner than we anticipated, so we turned right and headed toward Dollar Point, where we saw some speedboats zipping about. The winds lessened, so we played with sailing wing-on-wing, until we finally decided to head back, get on the hook, and settle in for an evening of fireworks.

Our buoy at Tahoe City Marina was a perfect front-row seat for fireworks watching. About 1/4 mile away to the SW, they had set up the fireworks barge right off Commons Beach. Soon, thousands began to gather on the local beaches and throughout the marina, and before long, hundreds of boats began circling the barge, with the hoots and calls of excited spectators filling the air as the sun set and the stars began to appear.

I assembled the BBQ grill on the aft rail, and Debbie went to work on some amazing hamburgers in the galley. Soon, they were grilling nicely, and we settled in for what turned out to be one of the noisiest and vivid fireworks performances either of us can recall.

At about 10:15, the show was over, the spectators were heading back to their homes, and we caught a ride with Dustin in the skiff back to the dock. It was a moonless night, and we were glad 90% of the traffic was headed west, while we slipped away to the east for a quiet and relaxing ride home.

With the Fourth of July weekend upon us, Debbie and I snuck out of work early on Friday and headed up to Lake Tahoe for an overnight stay. We were both a little nervous about staying the night “on the hook” for the first time, but I had spotted a neat little half-moon beach called Calawee Cove at Rubicon Point that I thought would protect us from west and southerly winds, so we went for it.

Winds were quite light on our way down to Rubicon Point, so we did a little “motor-assisted” sailing, as I wanted to have plenty of daylight to set the anchor and watch to see that we weren’t dragging the anchor before we went to sleep. We arrived at Calawee Cove at D.L. Bliss State Park about 7:30 p.m., dropped anchor in about 16.5 feet, and motored back on the anchor to set the hook in the soft mud. I set the GPS to mark where the anchor lay, and used that and sightings on a large Jeffrey Pine and the rocks of Rubicon Point to gauge if the boat was anchored securely.

Debbie put together a yummy picnic of French and American cheeses, Ancho Chili jam, crackers, fresh bread, and olives, and we relaxed in the cockpit and studied the changing light on the mountains as the sun slowly set. We stayed out until the amazing panoply of stars appeared overhead. Tahoe is so dark at night that you can clearly see the Milky Way, and it seems like you can see five times the depth of stars as we can only 30 miles away in Reno, because of the light pollution there.

Even as swells from distant boats and slight, swirling breezes took Splendido in many directions, the anchor seemed locked in place as we observed our position for more than two hours. We tidied up above and below, and I did one last position check before going below to sleep. We crawled in to the aft berth for the first time (I’m not going to lie…it was a bit like the first time you try squeezing into a mummy-style sleeping bag), and joked about which of us felt more claustrophobic, the protocol if one of us needed to get up during the night to pee, and so forth.

I had my GPS-armed iPhone within reach, and decided to do hourly checks. This was a mistake. I should have just taken a he-man dose of Xanax and called it a night. After about 30 checks of the GPS within the first two hours (7 yds. to anchor, bearing 254 degrees…20 yards to anchor, bearing 178 degrees…I watched nervously as the boat did what boats do: swing around the anchor as breezes or currents dictate. Meanwhile, Debbie was curled up like a cat, sleeping peacefully, oblivious to my information-fueled anxiety. At some point, exhaustion overtook me, and I dozed off.

At 4:39 a.m., I awoke, crawled out of bed, and looked out the hatch. Splendido was exactly where she should be, Tahoe was millpond-smooth, and an amazing pre-dawn glow was setting the mountain tops ablaze with a soft rosy light. Finally confident that we were not going anywhere (and after all, shipwreck and disaster are much easier to deal with by the light of day), I fell soundly back to sleep.

About 5:30 a.m., I got up, and the beauty of Rubicon Point took my breath away. Debbie was meditating with a cup of fresh French-pressed coffee on the bow.

I asked for a sip of coffee, then went back to bed. About 7:30 a.m., I got up and walked about the deck, snapping some photos of our quiet little cove.

We were under no illusions, however, that our bliss would last. As the Tahoe sun warmed the earth (but not the water!), the beaches started to fill up; the boats started to anchor nearby, and the squeals and shouts of hikers on the Rubicon Trail filled the air.

“What does this remind you of?” Debbie asked.

“Coney Island”? Grand Central Station?” I offered.

“We’ve never been to Coney Island.” she countered.

“What, then?” I asked.

A long pause, as she waited for me to consider. Then, with a knowing look, she said:

“Molokini, with all the boats jockeying for position.”

We both laughed, with visions of Maui’s “must-see” snorkeling location vivid in our minds.

After a few more hours of watching the throngs assemble, and watching speedboats park closer and closer to us with radios chattering and beer cans opening, we quietly planned our escape. A faint breeze came up a little after 1 p.m., and Debbie gently motored up to the anchor while I reeled it in, and then we were off for a lovely afternoon of sailing.

Despite having SPF 55 sunscreen on and our biggest hats and sun cover-ups, we both ended up with pink noses.

“We need a bimini to protect our skin,” opined Debbie.

“Hey, how about we save the money and just use a blue poly tarp with bungees?” I mused.

She gave me a square-eyed look.

“Not on this beautiful boat, we’re not,” she said with an air of finality. “We’ll find the money, but we have to get a bimini top if we’re going to be out here on days like this.”

When we got home later that night, and we were both pinker than we’d care to admit, we got online and began researching custom bimini covers for Catalina 270 sailboats.

Fair winds and smooth sailing. DB

On Tuesday afternoon, my nephew Eric, brother-in-law Matt, and brother-in-law Tracy joined me for an afternoon sail. Winds were light and variable, but we managed 5 knots on our cruise south along the west shore of Lake Tahoe. At the outset, we found ourselves gliding through large rafts of sugar-pine pollen that coated the near-glassy lake, but these disappeared the further south we sailed.

The boat music alternated between Yo Yo Ma and White Snake, and between rounds of beers for the guests and St. Pauli N.A. for me, we joked and laughed and sat back in awe at the stunning beauty of Lake Tahoe.

We were celebrating the summer solstice, and glad that it was the longest day of the year, actually, because right as we passed Tahoma, the wind died. Just before it did, we practiced a man-overboard drill, and got the floating cushion on the first try. Matt served as pointer, Tracy manned the sheets, and Eric was the boat-hook man. Very proud of everyone’s efforts, and happy to have a drill under my belt for the first time this season.

As the sun set and a cool pink light settled over the surrounding skies, we fired up the Perkins diesel and began our long, slow motor back to Tahoe City Marina. Overhead, a handful of jetliners cast long contrails to and fro in the western sky, and slowly the lights of lakeshore houses began to appear. Overhead, the firmament shone like diamonds in a midnight-blue sky. Eric had the helm, and with prompts from our hand-held GPS, was able to guide Splendido right into the channel. As we were offloading our gear at the gas dock, an older couple on a Catalina 22 ghosted by us, gently motoring out for a look at the sky full of stars.

Fair winds and smooth sailing. DB

We’d been looking forward all week to getting out on Splendido on Saturday, June 18th. The wind started kicking up around 1:30 p.m., so we hoisted sail and headed for Sugar Pine Point. We hadn’t gone 200 yards when I saw catspaws ripping across the water, indicating a major gust. I told Debbie to hold on, and I headed up, but not before a pretty surprising heel. Debbie had had a tough week, and she was looking forward to relaxing with a glass of wine while I steered, but it wasn’t meant to be on this particular Saturday. Before long, we were both working hard, putting a reef in the mainsail and using just a sliver of the jib to keep things stable and enjoyable in the strong gusts. The gusts moderated a bit in the later afternoon, so we could relax a bit more, but the day ended up being a bit of a nailbiter, all in all.

The good news, mechanically-speaking, was that the mysterious evaporation of the coolant head tank turned out to be caused by the loose hose clamp, so discovering that was a relief. The engine fired up like a charm, and we even had nice hot water (last week, not so much) from the taps, so I have a feeling we got things squared away.

While Debbie was slowly motoring toward our buoy to put Splendido on the hook for the night, the rum boat Tahoe Cruz came ripping in under full sail, cutting across the buoy field instead of entering through the outer channel markers, startling my wife and throwing off her line, so she had to motor around and try it again. After a challenging day on the water, we could have done without the hijinks and would have appreciated a little more consideration from our neighbor at Tahoe City Marina.

Fair winds and smooth sailing. DB