J. Beaman - The Magazine

I’m good with the plans. I’m passable with the executions but really really good with the plans. And, boy-o, do I have a new plan. A post Brasil plan.

Some of my favorite regulars from Firefly took me sailing on Saturday. I was so excited, I woke up at 6:30am and tossed and turned and worried that I might get seasick. I met Mark and Peter at Mark’s house in Noe Valley (very, very close to the Firefly) and we hopped right in the car and drove to South San Francisco to the Oyster Cove Marina where the boat is docked.

Before we go any further: how awesome do I look on a sailboat?

As we motored out towards the bay bridge I wrung my hands and worriedly paced (or the reasonable equivalent, on a smallish boat), having not taken Dramamine, terrified of falling overboard or some other less disastrous clumsy mishap when the fucking coast guard pulls up, port side, requesting to come aboard. It seems crazy that the coast guard can just pull up to you and hop on board but that’s what they do and Mark didn’t seem worried so I just hung out and chatted with them. Two of them got on board and two of them stayed in their little boat behind us.

Everything was fine, no one went to jail and we motored on passing under the bay bridge, waiting for the wind. And, as expected by the more seaworthy of us, just as we passed under the bay bridge, the wind picked up and with a flurry of activity sails were raised and we were at a 10 degree angle cruising along. I had no idea that sailing was so….fucking manly. It satisfies my desires of manhood. Not convinced?

Try that. I know you’re convinced now. So, when I’m ready (post Brasil, post sailboat buying, post practice) I sail out the golden gate and head south, land in Morro Bay, Long Beach, the Mexican Coast, Central America, through the Panama Canal. I’ll meet all my friends in Galveston and then sail the east coast. I’ll see how it feels.

Wanna come with?

More pics.