Whoa! Wow! Whew! We did it! �.well, almost.
We still had to navigate across the Great Bay. It was a 10 mile run, straight east (east!) to Berkeley. We knew from chart and GPS that the city stood directly off the bow, but none of us had actually been there before. We wanted a landmark to confirm our course. I had it.
When looking into the University of California (Berkeley) I�d gone over the website extensively. One of the striking features of the campus was a tall spire, a bell tower. There ahead, dead off the bow and dead on course, was that needle like structure standing like a lighthouse to guide us in. There ahead was the first tangible evidence of our penultimate goal.
We had come so far, challenged ourselves in every aspect along the way, destroyed all preconceptions to replace them with experience. And now here I was, bringing us into the Port of Calling � the one that had reached across the distance to speak to me, to call me home, with the simple, profound words that defy language �
�Hey Sean, it�s my turn.� Eric. I checked the time: just after two. Damn it! I was on a roll there. �I guess I�ll be bringing us into Berkeley.�
Well, fellow sailors, fellow armchair adventurers, sisters and brothers in the wind, I ask you: What is a Captain�s rank for if not to pull it once in a while?
�Eric,� I said, �you can steer us to the harbor....at which point I decommission tiller shifts.�
I paused for effect.
�After which,� spoke I, �I will bring us into port.�
A hushed silence at the stringent command, �There will be a lot to do once we get there.�
(Wait for it����..)
�Because it�s drinks all around!!!!�
A general �huzzah!� went up.
After all, you can lead a sailor to port, but you never have to make him drink.
Leading the sailors to port was my main concern as we came closer in. The first time I looked at the chart I didn�t believe it, but most of San Francisco Bay is really shallow. To boot, there�s a section of wreckage (an abandoned wharf) reaching halfway across the Bay. Sure, it�s a great and famous sailing ground, but I think that�s partly because there�s so much stuff to run into�
At any rate, we were approaching Berkeley marina rapidly. I called them on the radio to warn of our approach. They gave me a slip where we could tie up � simple as that. I like it here, I thought.
But we weren�t �here� quite yet. Dan had experienced a miraculous recovery from, in his words, �the worst night of my life,� and was engaged in taking pictures and video of the event. �The Event.� It�s funny, but it was actually an Event. There we were, a mile from Berkeley. The Lark was at its end. No fanfare, no press, no women baring their breasts�.
�Susannah?�
�Don�t even think about it. Alright, think about it all you want, I�m not doing it.�
Oh well.
We rounded the breakwater. We were there. Here.
And it was done.