Making a Splash
August 11, 2018
Jump to gps track, splash.
My sailing narratives usually start with a fussy recounting of
the weather forecast. There is a very good reason for this.
Picking a day with the right winds is the single most important
factor if you want a good day sailing on the rivers. The trouble
is that picking that day is difficult, even with the advantages of
modern weather forecasting. The forecasters are doing very
well at a forecasting problem that is very, very hard.
Their single "very" is often no match for "very, very."
River sailors need to pay the most careful attention to this one
factor if their efforts are to be rewarded with a great day's
sailing.
It's now been two weeks since my first sailing day of the
season. I've been watching the weather forecasts each day with
disappointment. There's been no secure day for sailing. The winds
have been Southwesterly. That is bad for my starting point at the
Newport Marina a little over a mile downstream of the Point. Those
winds are blocked by the high ridge of Mount Washington on the
Southwestern bank of the river.
Today finally things looked better. The weather forecast was
calling for gentle Northwesterly winds. They would blow along the
course of the Ohio River and they would blow against the current.
They would carry me easily up to the Point.
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for larger
The winds forecast were in the weaker range: 3 to 6 mph, with
little stronger gusts. However by late morning is was clear that
stronger winds were blowing. Eve and I went to Cherry's diner
downtown for breakfast. Walking home along Liberty Avenue just
after midday, we could feel the breeze.
Here's the National Weather Service record for the day:
The latest report I could then see was for 11:51 am. It was
showing Northwesterly winds of about 7 mph. As the afternoon
progressed, they were building to Northwest winds at 8 mph.
This is perfect! So the decision was taken. Sail!
The other factor to be checked is the river currents. All I
needed to see was the flow on the Ohio river:
A modest 16,500 cubic feet per second is low enough for me not to
need to check the flow on the Allegheny and Mon Rivers. (They
combine to form the Ohio River flow.) This is a slight current I
can easily beat, especially with winds blowing against the
current.
Soon all the sailing gear was packed and we headed off. "We,"
since Eve decided to join me for the bike ride along the rivers to
the marina. We crossed the Allegheny River at the bicycle lane on
the 6th Street Bridge. (The bridge was closed to car traffic so we
could use its whole width.)
My regular ritual of checking the wind began. There was none
discernible on the bridge. Bad. Arriving on the Northern bank of
the Allegheny River, I found a flag showing good wind from the
West:
Good.
I've become an avid flag watche. It's a good way to see what wind
is where. It's essential to do this since a forecast can say one
thing about the winds, but quite another can still happen.
Riding along the Allegheny River, however, I found no wind at
all. The fountain at the Point was indicating a good wind from
roughly the West or Northwest.They weren't making it up the
Allegheny River, however.
Winds were better at the Del Monte pier. I measured winds of
about 6 mph from the West, roughly.
Arriving at the Point, I could see a line in the water. It marked
the division between the more distant part of the river where the
Northwesterly winds blew (rough water) from the nearer part that
was sheltered by the Northern bank (glassy water):
Soon enough we arrived at the marina. Eve was not interested in
the nuisances involved in setting up a sailboat. So she headed
back home and I turned to the nuisances. Last season, after the
older one had decayed, I'd made a long, narrow bag to protect the
mast with the sail wrapped around it.
Alas, it was too narrow. On my last day's sailing, I had barely
managed to extract the sail and mast from it and had struggled to
get it back in a the end of the day.
So I'd gone home that day and soon made a larger bag:
The old bag was quite wet inside from recent rainfalls. That
meant that it stuck to the sail. It defied all efforts to slide it
off. I had to cut it off.
As I cut, I noticed one of the behemoths of the river powering
past:
Before all this, I had checked the river conditions from the end
of the marina. The winds were great. They were a steady 6-8 mph
blowing upstream:
Gazing at debris in the water, I could not make out any
discernible current. Excellent! This is as good as it gets!
Here's the boat ready to be rigged:
At 2:30 pm I put into the water. I'd be sailing on a run, that
is, with the wind behind me. The Hobie Bravo's sail tends to flap
about badly in those conditions. Since the winds were relatively
strong, I "reefed" the sail. That is, I reduced its area by
rolling a part around the mast:
It started very nicely. I made a healthy 5-6 mph towards the
Point. But then, just a few hundred yards out, the wind faded and
nearly died.
Oh dear--no wind!
This would be the story for much of the day's sailing. Whatever
the winds might be doing at the weather station, they were not
steady on the water. All day, I would alternate between periods of
good winds and then calm.
Here's a graphical display of winds recorded by the National
Weather Service in the earlier table:
This graph makes the wind look strong and steady. It gives no
sense of the coming and going of the wind, the periods of good
wind and of little or no wind, during the afternoon
So it went. Here I looked back at the marina to take parting
photo:
It turned out to be just the moment that winds returned. You can
see that in the bubbling wake. By then I'd unreefed the sail. To
avoid too much flapping, I decided to zig-zag across the wind.
That would keep the sail fuller.
Here I am approaching the West End Bridge, with a full sail:
In stops and starts, I pass the Science Center:
The Point nears:
Since the wind is coming and going, I'm watching flags carefully.
They reveal good winds at the Science Center submarine:
There's always something to look at. River life is definitely
getting more interesting:
Getting closer to the Point:
There are plenty of kayakers enjoying the perfect weather:
The flag on Heinz Field reveals good winds blowing from the
Northwest:
I use them to take me to the Point, arriving at 3 pm. There the
winds die and I am becalmed.
You can see calm in the glassiness of the water's surface.
There's nowhere to dock right at the Point.
In any case, I hadn't been in the water long enough to want to
stop. Judged by the flags I could see, the winds on the Allegheny
River seemed hospitable. So I turned my bows up that river. I
passed in close to a bouy.
Soon I was approaching the Fort Duquesne Bridge, just as a large
river boat came downstream:
Another buoy:
Progress slows after I've passed the Fort Duquesne Bridge. I'm
starting to ask myself if I should turn back. I am sailing now on
a "run" with the wind behind me. A rough rule of thumb I'd learned
on the rivers is that it will take twice the time to return,
tacking into these same winds.
But then the winds came back. You can see that in the flags on
the ballpark:
Sailing is often gambling with the wind. So I gamble. Onward. I'm
now approaching the 6th Street Bridge:
I'm aligned with the flags at the ballpark and they are showing
steady winds.
A few moments later, the winds are gone and the same flags hang
limply:
These signs should be heeded. I may not have enough wind to get
home. At 3:30 pm, I decide to make the turn for home at the 6th
Street Bridge:
Sailing back to the Point is first slow and
tortured and then faster. This is easy to see in the gps track of
the sail, color coded for speed:
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for larger
My starting point is at the Newport Marina, circled in red. Since
my course is convoluted, I've added arrows to indicate direction.
The sailing from the 6th Street Bridge back to the Fort Duquesne
Bridge is halting, as shown by the wide mix of colors. Purple and
blue are faster. Orange and red are slower. The red portions
occupy only a small part of the track. But since I am not moving
in them, that doesn't mean that I was there for only a small time.
But then there's a fast passage to the Point.
There I halt momentarily at 4 pm while a riverboat passes:
Now I start the sail homeward, into the wind. My good progress is
visible in the strong, zig-zagged tacks down the river towards the
West End Bridge.
There are huge barges parked on the river's edge. I
sail in close to sense their immensity.
Approaching the West End Bridge, I decide to try a bold maneuver.
Can I sail between the bridge pylons, shown in the blue circle
below? Since the wind is blowing upstream, I would have to sail
directly into the wind to get through the space between the
pylons. Everything has to be just right or the winds will blow me
into a pylon or back downstream. Can I manage the delicate
maneuver?
Yes! Made it. Here I am emerging on the other side:
Passing the bridge means that I've left the "no wake"
zone. This is the zone where powerboats are required not to raise
big wakes during weekends and public holidays. The sign on the
pylon says it all.
Of course that means that once powerboaters leave this zone, they
hit the throttle and kick up a huge wake. These are the wakes that
can scuttle a small boat. I cannot ignore them. The best course is
to sail bow first into the waves. The boat is tossed about, but
there's little danger of tipping.
It's usually impossible for me to correct course and get ready at
the same time as I take photos. This time I managed. In the
sequence of frames animated below, you see the powerboat zooming
off, leaving sizeable waves in its wake. These waves soon reach my
boat, which is tossed about by them.
These powerboaters should or, worse, do realize the havoc their
wake causes. But they do it anyway. It's like the guy who sits in
a quiet park with a boom box. You had better like his taste in
music since that is what you will hear.
I always have the same thought when I watch these powerboaters.
He gets his speed and power cheaply. All he does is to push a
throttle lever and hold on. There's no skill. There's no artistry
to it. A little man with a big boat is still a little man.
I'm now approaching the Newport Marina and home. The view back to
downtown is lovely.
It's now 4:30 pm and I am sore from the strain of sitting on a
small, moving deck. Good sense would indicate it is time to stop.
However I am having too much fun. The winds are steady and it is
easy to add one more tack and then another. Then I see a powerboat
near the marina. I think they might be docking. I'd need to wait
for them to dock before I could sail in.
So I decide to sail on past the marina towards Brunot's Island,
which is farther downstream on the Ohio River. The winds are
holding steady and I'm sailing at 4-5 mph, which is both a restful
and interesting speed. I can now see marinas from the water that I
usually only see from the river trail:
Here's the upstream tip of Brunot's Island.
Closer:
I arrive at the tip at around 4:45pm and decide to head home.
Around then, I spot a barge approaching, as it passes under the
West End Bridge:
The barge is far away and barely visible in the photo, even
though I have zoomed in on it. However I know that a barge moves
quickly and it soon will be upon me. The real question is which
way will it go? How do I avoid its huge bows?
The river divides at Brunot's Island so it could go into either
the Western or Eastern channel.
I keep a careful eye on the barge, while sailing within the
Western channel. During this maneuvering, I get very close to the
upstream tip of the island.
My recollection is that the barges take the other, Eastern
channel. I'm fairly sure of it, but not willing to bet my life on
it. As the barge nears, I can see more of its side. That is
promising. As long as you can see the side of the barge, it is not
heading directly for you.
I was correct. The barge is heading for the other, Eastern
channel. I watch it pass from a safe distance.
All that remains is a gentle sail back to the marina. My bows
strike the ramp at 5:05 pm. I jump off the deck and can stretch
sore muscles. My day's sailing is over.
It's time to unrig the boat and stow it away, to await the next
day of sailing. My new sail and mast bag is a very loose fit. That
is good. It makes it very easy to slide the bag over the mast.
John D. Norton
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