Anthony Dalton sails close to the wind. ©
The tide came in faster than our boat could sail. The tide had its own destinations. It wouldn’t let us go to Alcatraz, unless we could surprise it into giving us a hand.

“Man overboard!”
Something flashed past me over the rail into the sea as the voice rang in my ear. “Keep him in sight!” I called to my crew.

Needing space to turn the boat safely to get back for the rescue, I kept going, counting off five boat lengths. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five.”

As I reached “Five” I turned the helm hard to port and began to turn. One of my crew pointed to a distant head in the water. I nodded and continued to carve an invisible figure eight on the sea. A few minutes after that first dreadful cry I made a final turn and brought the boat into the wind. She stopped right beside the head.

“Well done, Tony,” our instructor said. “Well done, crew.”

He reached over and lifted a white Styrofoam head, attached to a long wooden stick, from the water.
No one had fallen in. It was only a safety drill.


Taking a refresher course in sailing, after a few years away from the sea, was full of anxious moments like that. Every time I relaxed, or thought everything was going fine, there would be another hastily manufactured disaster. In the course of one day I had to retrieve no less than seven ‘men’ who had ‘fallen’ overboard.

I actually learned to sail in Canada, on Lake Ontario in front of Toronto’s tall buildings. A few years later I sailed with friends in the North Sea, off the Suffolk coast. Since then I’ve sailed in the South Pacific, out of New Zealand and Fiji.

I’ve messed about with a Hobie Cat in the Philippines, and worked an Arab dhow in the Musandam fjords of Oman. I’ve gone to sea on three tall-ships, in the Mediterranean, the North Atlantic, and the Baltic Sea. In the Caribbean I’ve explored the Virgin Islands. And in western Canada I now sail my 33’ sloop among the Gulf Islands of British Columbia.

A few years ago, though, feeling rusty and knowing I needed a reminder on just how ocean tides and currents affect a sailboat, I went to San Francisco. That glorious city is fantastic to observe from a boat. And, perfect for my purposes, the beautiful bay, with Alcatraz Island near one end, is well known for capricious winds, strong currents and tidal flows.


We sailed from nearby Sausalito, planning to sail the length of the bay, go round Alcatraz Island, then follow the San Francisco shore to the enormous Golden Gate Bridge – gateway to the Pacific Ocean.

The plan was simple enough. We could see Alcatraz clearly in the distance.
Sailing in a straight line, if it were possible, it wouldn’t take long to get there.

But the tide was coming in. An enormous amount of extra seawater from the Pacific rushed under the Golden Gate Bridge and hustled into the bay.

The tide came in faster than our boat could sail. The tide had its own destinations.
It wouldn’t let us go to Alcatraz, unless we could surprise it into giving us a hand.

“Aim for a point halfway between the bridge and Alcatraz,” our instructor suggested. “That way, when you get into the tidal current, it will carry the boat where you want it to go.”
I picked a skyscraper out of San Francisco’s impressive waterfront buildings and pointed the bowsprit straight at it. As expected the tidal flow carried us further and further east. The tall building I had selected moved away to starboard as we drifted closer to Alcatraz – which was where we wanted to go.

After our circumnavigation of Alcatraz we tacked back and forth against the incoming tide, close to the city’s shoreline, gradually working our way closer to the bridge. From there we set a new course back to Sausalito, this time across the current in the opposite direction.

There’s something magical about San Francisco Bay.
For a small-boat sailor it has just about everything.

Strong and contrary winds, strong tides, plenty of shipping to keep sailing crews alert, and gorgeous scenery.

Of all the places I’ve sailed, with the exception of my beloved Gulf Islands,
I rate San Francisco at the top. Skilled sailor or beginner, that bay will – in some way – teach all mariners a few new tricks: and Styrofoam heads are cheap.

Anthony Dalton ©