Alcatraz Island

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Report by Ken

It was a perfect autumn day in San Francisco. The rain that had been falling for most of the past week had vanished and the morning sky had turned to blue. A light breeze was coming in from the east as I launched from Crissy Field, catching the current that would carry me out to Alcatraz Island.

Even though the current speeds in San Francisco Bay don't reach the high velocities that you will find in the Paciific Northwest, they are much more powerful than most, because of the sheer volume of water that they represent. The 1.8 knot flood that pushed me toward Alcatraz felt more like 5 or 6, and it didn't take long before I was muscling my way around the northern tip of the island. The rip here was very large, with waves that measured 2-3 feet from crest to trough, and the suction of the rip meant that I had to fight my way around the corner and pull hard for about 30 seconds before I got into the eddy on the island's east side.

This is the side of the island that you really can't see from the city, and although the buildings here are in a terrible state of disrepair, they are still an imposing monument to human despair. I wonder what the criminals who were unlucky enough to be sent here thought when they saw The Rock for the first time. "Oh s@#*, I really did it this time. How could I have been so f*%&ing stupid?" It had to be a truly humbling and horrible moment, surpassed only by every other minute they had to spend incarcerated here.

The shoreline is unbroken rock and bulkhead, with no real landing sites. Although there were a few places where I could have gotten out if I'd had to, the swells in the bay would have made for a touh landing, and I'm sure I would have done some damage to the boat. I didn't mind really… just did a few laps around the island while I waited for the current to change directions.

When slack arrived, or just before actually, I started back to the put-in. Even though I wasn't getting the help from the current that I had on the outbound leg of the trip, it still didn't take long for me to get back. The city gleamed brilliantly from its hundred hills, the tall buildings of downtown mixed with the blocks of wood-framed houses and shops that make San Francisco one of the most beautiful and soulful cities in the world. When I got back to the sandy shore at Crissy Field, the beach and walkway was packed with throngs of people, all of them enjoying the unseasonably warm weather along with me.