- “Riding the Wild Delta: A Jetski Odyssey”
- Evokes a sense of camaraderie and the wandering spirit of the group.
- “From Cape Fear to Full Throttle: Delta Days Unraveled”
- Ties in the cinematic reference while hinting at the intensity of the rides.
- “Waterborne Warriors: The Delta Jetski Chronicles”
- Frames the riders as bold adventurers with a nod to the ongoing story.
My personal favorite is “Throttle Wide Open: Adventures on the California Delta”—it’s punchy, descriptive, and captures the thrill of the ride while anchoring it to the specific setting. Which one resonates with you, or do you have another direction in mind?
SoCal and NorCal Jetski Adventure Riders rode their Yamaha wave-runners, Kawasaki jet skis and Seadoo’s, aka Bombadiers to the California Delta Force where the waters and the smells are mightier than elsewhere in the world. At times it felt like there’s a wastewater treatment plant just around the corner from us; yet other times I felt like it was a newly built dump without the added fabreeze.
Even the growing GMO corn in the fields, seen from as far away as the curvatures of the earth didn’t offer up any sweetness of smells. And then there’s the eeriness of the near or abandoned boats in the levees that give off this Cape Fear sort of vibe.
For the unfamiliar Cape Fear was a 1962 movie whereby a lawyer and his family are on a houseboat trip in the Delta while getting terrorized by a convict played by Robert Mitchum. Sam Bowden (Gregory Peck), is the lawyer who sent him away. When Max finds Sam and his family, he begins a terrifying stalking spree, intending to ruin Sam’s life. And it all takes place at nighttime on the Delta.
But don’t get me wrong. I/we love this place. You can ride like Mad Maxx on flat calm curvy rivers like waters, with the occasional fishermen encountered, anchored and happily fishing for bass, as you round a tight levee corner at wide open throttle.
The levees leave you with toilet bowl like endless views. The water can be icy cold one moment and then pee like warm a short period later. The sky is often cloudless but cloudy with the dirt and fertilizer from fields suspended in midair.
It also recently occurred to me that unlike motorcycles the jetski market all have proprietary names. If I just call them watercraft, you might now think that we were on boats. Yes boats, but small personal ones with jet engines. Some supercharged ones and obviously some more powerful than others.
Some riders like Jay and I go back to around 2005 when we were all part of an original club; simply called the SoCal watercraft club. Dan, Pirate, Young and J. Walker you are remembered.
Other people back in the day loosely came and went, and then our racing scene started and developed.
A big distinction also occurred between the cruising style and the racing scene. And let’s also not forget the offshore, near shore and lake riders. Big differences here as well. It now looks like the new version of a watercraft club has evolved and I like it. The friendly people and atmosphere coupled with the wide range of every imaginable comfort items, food and drinks after the ride makes for a really great experience of enjoying your watercraft.
What changed: possibly that one day someone smarter and wiser than I figured out that they could ride all day and weekend on a single tank of gas, on a dual-sport motorcycle. And before you know it that progression took hold and our groups split up some more.
What we used to pay for fuel at Avalon, Catalina Island twenty years ago is what we’re now paying for fuel to continue riding.
At one marina that only sold 91 octane the price per gallon was nearly $7. It’s now also common to carry coolers and spare fuel tanks onto the newer, more expensive but, way more dependable models of today.
If you’re old enough to remember ceramic washers on Seadoo Superchargers or clip on hose clamps on Kawasaki’s then you know right what I’m now talking about. We were the proving grounds for all.
How often does one jump on a jet ski, on the open ocean, holds the throttle wide open and rides till they are out of fuel? We did. That’s probably why we were always breaking down.
And speaking of a breakdown we had two and on Seadoo’s. One wasn’t really a breakdown just a mishap like for example when the jet inhales a flag like material into its impeller.
Thanks to everyone (Troy) that came together and one person (Mr, Amsoil) that had the foresight to bring the right tools their (Dan and Kathy) ride was saved.
And then the other break down turned out to be our host Jason. He ride’s a Seadoo like the wind, and also loves to stop on a dime. The Seadoo can only take so much abuse before it will find a way to stop itself. Thankfully Mel (possibly short for Melanie) saved his day and now they were riding two up.
We are all home safe after four days of riding a sizable portion of 1200 miles of fresh and brackish waterways known as the Delta; located between San Francisco and Sacramento.
Daytime temperature upon arrival at the campground for me were in the 90’s. And just when I thought we left the heat wave behind, it followed us back to Southern California where the temperature is expected to be between 100-109 Fahrenheit.
It’s amazing how within 24 hours the human body can quickly adapt itself to a newer environment; that coupled with about three iced teas and two water bottles was just enough to hydrate me.
Not all who arrived have the stamina to camp (just Jay and I); others are staying in every place imaginable like for example, hotels, RV’s, rooftop tents and even trailers.
The outdoor tiki style bar at Orwood Resort now faces the launch ramp. The lounge spot chosen is perfect for watching the boat launchings with the occasional new boater mishap. I didn’t see any but they range from slip’s and falls to totally submerging your tow vehicle.
If you plan on also riding here someday, then note the following; the Sacramento Delta is to your north and Stockton is to your south. We’re somewhere in between and staying at the Orwood Resort and Marina.
The Delta on our west coast is considered the largest estuary on the west coast.
Near and distant memories now flood my mind. Today I can walk like an old man. Thanks to a massage or a chiropractor that helped me out. That first ride of 150 miles kicked butt. The second day we rode 128 miles. And some rode more. Perhaps it was the over 500 miles of driving for the SoCal group to get here and home? Or perhaps it was the heat!
In the past to get to where I am today; one would need equipment like for example block and tackle, a good revolver, a pickaxe and shovel, and some tinned foods. Times were tough around here in the not too distant past. What qualifies for camping today can be considered luxury in the past.
On this trip I’m riding a 2023 Yamaha FXHO. Yamaha and Seadoo seem to be popular with this group. There’s also one Kawasaki 310 (the fastest one) ridden by Tom!
And on this ride; it didn’t occur to either one of us (Angelo and Ralph) until we were well into our conversation and bonding on side by side toilets, with only a thin layer of 1/4” plywood separating us, that we rode the Delta together years ago. Paris, a highly educated Chinese woman was his ride partner. While at Guisnies, one of the best restaurants on the water was where the group had lunch. I also recall talking to a local that just turned 90 years old. Paris wanting to appear friendly and in the moment asked the gentleman. “How’s your father?” We all cracked up at both their expressions. Some memories are priceless. And others hurt.
The Delta map that I ordered from Amazon didn’t arrive in time but, like everyone else, I’m relying on my Garmin to safely navigate back each night.
Background: The last time I rode this way I blew up a freshly rebuilt engine. We stayed in hotels a considerable distance away and the temperatures dropped down to maybe 90 degrees by sundown. My friend Jimmy Walker built the entire engine on my 2007 Seadoo GTX.
It blew up on the Delta just as I left Orwood Resort. Apparently, the ride yesterday caused the little engine to ingest more saltwater than it was able to. My ride would’ve been over were it not for Dave from Palo Verses who loaned me his spare Kawasaki Ultra 300.
And on the previous two days, our little ride group rode all around Alcatraz. And then someone suggested that we head out the San Francisco bridge. That was really cool and fun. And still that wasn’t enough. So, we pointed our bows towards the Farallon islands. Sounded like a good idea to everyone at the time.
Those Farallons sit about 28 miles west of San Francisco. Only a small portion of the islands are inhabited by researchers, the rest are for the seabirds and sea lions. No public access is allowed today and you can’t even get near them by boat or jet ski.
Years after our infamous ride a 38-foot sailboat called Low Speed Chase was driven onto the rocks, while rounding the islands as part of the Farallones Sailboat Race. One sailor was killed and four were lost at sea.
The sea conditions for our little ride group to the Farallons were mild however, on the way back, as we neared the potato patch near the golden gate. Then the conditions suddenly all changed. It was like Gilligans Island only it was happening to us. “The weather started getting rough, the tiny ships were………..; it suddenly became every man for himself. And on top of that we were running on fuel fumes. Everyone could hear each other’s fuel alarm buzzing.
The sea state quickly unsettled itself. And, if you go by the local folklore and some of the cruising guides, anyone who enters the potato patch (area of water between the San Francisco bridge and the Farallons) will die immediately regardless of conditions.
We rode all of this and allot more and didn’t die but, two days later it did kill my Seadoo. Some days have more adventures in them than others.
On a warm spring day, the Farallon Islands are easy to see from San Francisco and Marin County – they look like painted islands on the horizon, on the edge of the Pacific Ocean.
Legend also has it that the potato patch was named for the many potato farms north in Bolinas in the 19th century that shipped it’s products to markets in San Francisco.
In the watercraft community it’s often necessary to have, like life itself, some misadventures. That is what gives the trip some character.
A peaceful ride without anyone having any misfortunes, problems or weather trouble provides nothing worthy of recollections.
And now as Van Morrison sings; on days like this;
“When it’s not always raining there’ll be days like this
When there’s no one complaining there’ll be days like this
When everything falls into place like the flick of a switch
Well my mama told me there’ll be days like this”
POINTS OF HISTORY SIGNIFICANCE: In the 1860’s to transform this area into farmland, levees needed to be built and maintained.
So why not use the willing, capable and able Chinese laborers, fresh from building the Transcontinental Railroads of America. Using just a manual shovel and push power wheelbarrows they built more than a thousand miles of the levees that we were riding.
When they were done, many stayed in the Delta to work on farms that they made possible, growing pears and asparagus. And for all their efforts others just wanted them gone.
Maybe America is more tolerant today. And maybe America still has a few more lessons to learn about getting along.
And still maybe we’ll be back another day to see and ride the California Delta. Thank you all for making this trip memorable. Fadi great seeing you. Jay you saved the day and made everyone’s life better with your culinary skills and talents. Thank you Jay for the Meet Up, planning and organizing and the excellent tri tip dinner. Buddy and the leave no man behind ride partner that one needs on a trip like this. Between Buddy, Angelo and Tom one could weather any storm in complete luxury and comfort.
Thank you everyone and all.
End
Trawlercat Chronicles 