One day in the late spring of 1961, my dad came home from work and told me, “This weekend, you and I are going fishing with Uncle Ross.”

Marty Relles

Sure enough, Friday evening about 5:30 p.m., Uncle Ross drove up in his station wagon with my Cousin Jim. Dad loaded two fishing poles, some tackle, two sleeping bags, a grocery bag full of food , and coats and clothing for us into the car. Then off we went on our fishing trip.

We drove out Folsom Boulevard toward Placerville. Back then, no freeways had been built so we drove out Folsom Boulevard to Folsom. Eventually that road ran into State Highway 50.

When we reached Placerville, we turned north on Highway 49 in the direction of Georgetown, an old gold rush village.

Just before we reached Georgetown, we turned east on a dirt road and drove about five miles to a place where we stopped and made camp.

The thing I remember most about that ride was the dust. It billowed up and covered Uncle Ross’ car.

What a mess.

But who cared, we were going to camp out under the stars. Wow!

After we unloaded the gear, we began to erect the tents. This dates back before the days of REI, so the tents we had came from Army Surplus. We set up one tent for Dad and Uncle Ross and one for Jim and me. Then we unrolled our sleeping bags inside the tents.

While we did this, Uncle Ross built a fire and cooked dinner: hot dogs and canned beans. I tell you this, hot dogs and beans never tasted so good. For dessert, we had Hostess Cup Cakes. As we watched the sun set, we drank coffee with lots of milk and sugar in it.

When the sun came down and dark settled in, we beheld the magic of the entire Milky Way spreading across the night sky. I remember the majesty of that to this day. However, soon we tired, closed our tent flap and fell into a deep sleep.

When morning came, Jim and I awoke to the sound of Uncle Ross cooking breakfast. He started the fire, then made coffee, then cooked bacon and eggs. The smell of the cooking bacon proved intoxicating, and soon we all dressed and joined Uncle Ross around the fire.

After breakfast, we gathered our gear and headed down to the Rubicon River in search of trout.

Since this was my first fishing trip, I took in all the sights. We trekked over huge granite outcroppings, went around large fir trees, and crossed gurgling streams filled with water so clean, you could scoop up a hand full and drink right from the stream.

Eventually we arrived at the river where Dad and Ross went upstream and Jim and I went downstream.

Try as we might, Jim and I caught no fish. We saw some big ones, but they ignored our bait. In the end, we headed back upstream to find Dad and Uncle Ross.

When we found them, they proudly held up two trout each: nice looking fish, all about twelve inches long. Jim and I were happy somebody caught something. After admiring the catch, we all headed back up toward the camp site.

As always, the walk back out always seems a lot harder the walk in. But we made it back without an injury, or a whimper. Soon we had the car loaded and headed home with our bounty.

We stopped in Placerville on the way home to eat lunch. We had burgers and fries. Keep in mind, this was long before people worried much about cholesterol and the food tasted great. After filling our bellies, off we went to Sacramento.

I remember this trip as if it were yesterday. The clean air, the pure water, the simple food cooked outdoors all added up to a wonderful time with my father, my uncle and my cousin. Even today, Jim and I often think back and recall this special Janey Way memory.

Sailing long distances on the Pacific Ocean, Michael Caplan says, is “hours of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror.”

Sacramento resident Michael Caplan loves to sail the Pacific Ocean from San Francisco to Hawaii. His voyages have involved encounters with flying fish, squid and whales. / Photo courtesy

The boredom, Caplan said, includes spending hours on watch in some of the remotest spots on the globe, complete with hallucinations and some conversation with yourself, seeing one’s life compartmentalized into only periods of light and periods of darkness, and repeated meals of the same tired pasta dishes and preserved canned banality.

At the other end of the seagoing spectrum are the otherworldly, sailors-only occurrences and interactions that the landlocked will never experience: eyeball-to-eyeball meetings with whales, endless seascapes seemingly meant solely for the viewing pleasure of those lucky few on board to view them at that particular moment and latitude, and occasional moments of mortal terror.

Caplan, a Sacramento realtor and a member of the Rotary Club of Arden-Arcade, recently completed his sixth Pacific Cup, a yacht race that takes competitors 2,070 miles from San Francisco to the Kaneohe Yacht Club on the windward side of Oahu, Hawaii. Fifty-six boats participated in the 2010 event, the race’s sixteenth running.

The Pacific Cup, Caplan explained, is a race primarily for amateur crews, unlike the Trans-Pacific Race, which is held in odd-numbered years and draws professional racers.

“In the Trans-Pac, the more money you have, the better your chances to win,” he said. “The Pacific Cup is an amateur race, run usually with older boats and amateur crews, and there is an enormous recidivist rate. It really gets in your blood.”

A “water-oriented” upbringing in paradise

Sailing got into Caplan’s blood early; his family moved to Hawaii from Sacramento when he was just four.

“My whole recreational perspective was water-oriented. I learned to surf before I learned to swim,” he recalled. “I started sailing

when I was 12; one of my teenage jobs was sailing in Hawaii. The ocean became my comfort zone.”

Caplan returned to the mainland for college and resettled in Sacramento. As soon as he felt he had the discretionary time he needed to be able to do so, he resumed sailing, first on San Francisco Bay, then on the Pacific Ocean. He entered his first Pacific Cup in 1990 and competed in the 2000, 2002, 2004, 2008, and 2010 races. Over the years, Caplan has helped oversee and supervise the race in a variety of roles, including once serving as race commodore, a post he recalls as being “a great deal of fun and very time-consuming.”

How the race was run

A veteran Pacific Ocean sailor, Caplan knows well the sea and its capriciousness. During one race, his boat went from upright to capsized in the blink of an eye.

“One moment, it was five-foot seas and a 25-knot breeze, and then around 3 a.m., a squall hit us. The winds went from 25 miles per hour to 55, and we went from upright and controlled to on our ear with the boat on its side,” he said. “We went from tranquility to utter chaos in seconds.”

Handling the challenges of the rapidly-changing seascape is the true test of a sailor’s abilities, Caplan maintains.

“Usually during a race, there’s a middle ground,” he said. “You’re on the edge, and anything can happen at any time, but you’re managing it well. You’re completely focused on this 30- to 50-foot long piece of flotation.”

This year’s race, Caplan said, was marked by poor sailing conditions, and the conditions influence how fast each race is run. During this summer’s race, Caplan and his shipmates aboard the Whistler V took 16 days to complete the nearly 2,100-mile course; the boat he was on during the 2004 race finished in just 11 days.

“The conditions really were about as bad as you could imagine this year,” Caplan said. “The weather was either calm or unfavorable. Our boat performed pretty poorly, and this race was just slow; even the fastest boats performed below capacity.”

All hands on deck (and in the galley)

Participating in six Pacific Cup races has given Caplan insight into how to assemble a crew for a race. The main trait he looks for in prospective crew members is reliability.

When sailing across the ocean, Caplan supplements the crew's meal provisions by fishing. During this year's race, he caught four mahi-mahi. / Photo courtesy

“Each person on that boat depends totally on every other person and their ability to perform,” said Caplan. “And it’s true what they say, a quiet boat is the most efficient boat.”

Caplan also looks for people who are experienced ocean sailors, and possessing additional desirable skills like the ability to cook or prior medical training or experience, helps one’s resumé. For the record, family ties hold no sway when Caplan is gathering his crew.

“My son-in-law is the only member of my family that I deem reliable enough for this,” he said. “I hope that just he and I can go sailing one of these days.”

For safety’s sake, each boat in the Pacific Cup is required to carry certain amounts of potable water, provisions, anchors, feet of chain, and the like. Expecting the trip from San Francisco to Hawaii to take between 12 and 14 days, Caplan prefers to take provisions for 16 to 18 days, just to be safe. Caplan also supplements the provisions by fishing from the boat; during this year’s Pacific Cup, he caught and prepared four mahi-mahi. Even with the occasional fresh catch, meals and accommodations aboard the boat grow tiresome quickly, Caplan admits.

“There is no shower, no comfortable way to sleep, so you basically race all day, eat, crash, and wait until you’re called for your next watch,” he said. “As far as food, we have each crew member bring in his or her favorite dish frozen, and we eat those first. Then we get into the fortified protein shakes, pasta, Vienna sausages, Spam, that sort of thing.”

The things you see at sea

Asked about his most memorable moments and sights on a boat, Caplan recalls seeing living “Rembrandt paintings” stretch out before him at sunset, scenes so beautiful that exhausted crew members would interrupt their hard-earned naps to take them in.

Caplan says that sailing long distances across the Pacific Ocean involves "hours of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror." Here, he relaxes during one of the quieter moments on board. / Photo courtesy

He remembers feeling like his “whole soul had been sucked up into the Milky Way” one night under the stars. He tells of flying fish and flying squid inexplicably landing with a plop on the deck of the boat and of birds lighting on one of the ropes or rails and hitchhiking for days. Perhaps most stirring are the encounters with whales.

“They make eye contact with you, and you’re looking at them and they’re looking back at you, and you can’t help but wonder, ‘What the hell is this animal thinking?’”

Unfortunately, Caplan also has seen how human thoughtlessness is impacting the oceans.

“I’ve observed a lot of trash in the open ocean: ropes, parts of fishing nets, and of course plastic bottles and other plastic things,” he said. “It’s really discouraging and disheartening. The nets and ropes are the most disheartening objects, since they can trap fish, dolphins, and turtles.”

Caplan credits his Hawaiian upbringing for his fondness for the ocean and its inhabitants.

“The ocean has always been dear to me; chalk it up to being raised on an island in the middle of the Pacific,” he said. “Spending time ‘out there’ just strengthens the commitment to preserving our natural resources.  I think that most of us that sail feel similarly.”