Radio Nets
Hello from the same desk, hello from summer
June 27, 2024, 19:54
High 70ºF/ Low 57ºF, windy, pressure 1006 mb, waning gibbous
At time of writing, I have three days left in Oakland. It’s been a great two-week run.
The weather is ideal and unchanging, thanks to the high-pressure system that lives offshore in the Pacific and the cape effect along the coast. I’ve exchanged ideas and hugs with friends, family, mentors, and new pals of my old pals. It’s been something of a soul retrieval — reconnecting me with the Ashley who was inspired to sail away. I’m thinking new thoughts in old haunts.
I’m missing home, but I’m not homesick. A triumph for a younger me.
We are sleeping in a room in a house that our friends have rented with varying roommates since 2012, the same room we stayed in during an earlier inflection point.
There is an orange tree out back and elderberries and magnolia in the front.
We haven’t been in a hurry and I still have a little energy left.
Wee became acquainted with radio nets while sailing in Pacific Mexico.
A radio net is three or more radio stations communicating with each other on a common channel or frequency. A net is essentially a moderated conference call conducted over two-way radio, typically in half-duplex operating conditions.
The nets typically begin on the same channel at the same time of each new day, often around 9 in the morning. The net operator typically rotates among sailors who are staying in one place for a while and are a great service to more transient folks. The net begins with a brief welcome and a call for emergencies. We heard a few emergencies reported, although the details have faded. We once heard someone offshore report a boat in distress further offshore, using their closer positioning to the net to amplify the distress signal. The reporter and a few key folks moved to a different radio frequency, the Mexican Navy was notified on another frequency, and the net moved down the agenda to newcomers and departures. If one falls in either category, it is customary to chime in with the boat name, souls aboard, and a brief summary of movements.
I tended to be the one to introduce our sailboat Azimuth, crewed by me, Scott, and Cypress the cat — bound for the Chesapeake Bay. This was somewhat of a conscious choice to add a woman’s voice to the chorus of a more male lifestyle.
I miss the net. It was a comfort to say “we are here!” after a hard-fought passage and to hear others chime in from their vessels and voyages. There was something magical about asserting our emergencies and movements concisely to those within a few mile radius. Social media has given us the opportunity to proclaim a similar “I am here!”, but the emergencies, arrivals, and departures are jumbled, global, and endless.
There are a few types of radio out there on the high seas. VHF transmits messages up to 25 miles away and marine single-sideband (similar to ham) can reach 50-150 miles. I delight in knowing that VHF stands for Very High Frequency, that single-sideband refers to transmission on either the upper or lower sideband of an AM frequency, and that ham radio is a nod to the amateur enthusiasts who used it in the 1890s up til modern day. These days, satellite connections like Starlink, Garmin, and Iridium GO! are cheaper and easier to implement than single-sideband (SSB) radios. Today sailors crossing the Pacific can be closer to the humans aboard the International Space Station than those on the shore and still transmit video updates to Instagram and TikTok.
Some VHF radios can monitor two channels at once. The Federal Communications Commission (FCC) regulates the use of many VHF channels to keep things coordinated. Channel 13 is used by commercial shipping to communicate their actions and confirm passage. The US Coast Guard uses Channel 16 and other countries have followed suit. Channel 09 was recently designated for distress calls to free up Channel 16 for Coast Guard announcements.
It is customary to announce one’s arrival to the port authorities over the radio.
I've spent a lot of time now matching words with emotions to share the terrific, terrifying, tremendous trip from San Francisco to the Chesapeake Bay. The highs and lows were more than I imagined, but much of the time it was simply me, Scott, Cypress, and the good ship Azimuth cruising along through changing winds, seas, and lands. I am so grateful, I could burst or maybe just take a nap.
“I have told the story I was asked to tell. I have closed it, as so many stories close, with a joining of two people. What is one man's and one woman's love and desire, against the history of two worlds, the great revolutions of our lifetimes, the hope, the unending cruelty of our species? A little thing. But a key is a little thing, next to the door it opens. If you lose the key, the door may never be unlocked. It is in our bodies that we lose or begin our freedom, in our bodies that we accept or end our slavery. So I wrote this book for my friend, with whom I have lived and will die free.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin, Four Ways to Forgiveness
Outfit of the Week:
Today I found myself with some free moments in Oakland, CA, and keys to a vehicle. It’s been at least 40 months since I’ve had that setup! How delicious to slip into it. I went to Stonemountain Daughter & Co., parked far away so I could enjoy a walk and see what plants were growing. I scored some treats in the remnant section, picked out two bolts of swimsuit fabric, and grabbed a cotton jungle cat print that lept off the shelf. Next I headed to East Bay Center for Creative Reuse, a few blocks from my old apartment, and picked a quilt book off the $1 rack and $41 more dollars of block printed fabric, fans for hot weather porch sitting, post-its for reading more deeply, earrings, mugs, and a handkerchief for future allergies.
I first found my voice online by posting progress photos and selfies of the clothes I knit and sewed around 2016-2020 — many are linked here at #azimuthendofthedock. I was finding myself outside of the guardrails of school, finding meaning in honing my craft and expressing myself. When we locked down for the pandemic and got the gears turning to go sailing, personal style became less relevant. On the voyage, it was frequently 90-100 degrees and there was often no one around, so the uniform became a big tee shirt and underwear.
As the years go by, my wardrobe is increasingly an amalgamation of the lives I’ve lived, full of sturdy garments that took a nonsensical amount of time to loop together or economical sense to snag from another source. As I get settled in, I’m reaching for my long polka dot coat, comfortable base layers, and Chacos on and off the river.
Here’s my favorite outfit of the week:
Base layer: cotton jumpsuit from Everlane, purchased from ThredUp in August 2023.
Sweater: Balan cardigan knit by me with Wool of the Andes, purchased from Amazon in May 2023 and cast off in May 2024.
Shoes: leather slides purchased in Isla Mujeres, MX in March 2023.
Earrings made by my sweetie, coming to an online shop soon!
$4 thrift store ring purchased in the Mission District of San Francisco last week for a wedding celebration thrown by friends.