Note to Don, our buddy who is going to sail with us from San Diego to La Paz in November.
Don,
Great sink. I know it is time to replace the forward sink on Cadenza. Thanks in advance for your plumber. Today we walked all over Shelter Island. Went to the bookstore and several marine places. Again found an amazing happy hour. Damn, are we happy! Boat folks around here are very real. We watched a lady disrobe and swim her dinghy to shore (engine trouble?) to help her neighbor get his boat in. See what you’re missing?
Jay
Sailing Southern California
September 10, 2013
“Don’t forget to give Point Loma a wide berth.” Joe told us as we left Oceanside. “It will feel like you are heading to Mexico, but it will keep you out of the kelp.”
We were aware of the infamous kelp beds that lie off the point. Not exactly the stuff made of legends, but repeated frequently by sailors as no one wants to wrap their prop with long strands of kelp.
Just after we passed Carlsbad Canyon and the whales (We figured they were hanging out there to feed on the krill gathering at the ledge of the canyon. One minute the sea was sixty feet deep and the next, twelve hundred.), we finally got some wind. The forecast was for NW winds, 10 knots, gusting to 15. It was just getting up to 10 knots but not from the NW as predicted but from the SW. Go figure.
Southwest winds were good, though, as we could sail close-hauled. We put up the sails and immediately the wind dropped to a mere four knots. Argh! So frustrating! We left the sails up anyway as they kept the boat steady and added a knot to our motor sail.
I asked Jay for the helm as I felt he had been hogging it most of the trip and I wanted to sail too. I suppose he wasn’t really hogging it, he just wanted to make sure all the systems he had been working on were doing their job. And they were. So now he could sit back and relax a bit and let me navigate for a while.
We weren’t to Point Loma yet when the kelp started showing up and I began dodging it left and right. Then, off our port bow, I saw what looked like a big brown island extending several miles out and along the coast.
Joe wasn’t kidding. We really did feel like we were heading to Mexico. And even when we thought we were free of the big brown island, I looked below and saw long lines of kelp underneath our boat. They were probably only 8-10 feet under the water. Our boat draws six feet. It was time to move even further off the coast.
It was so tempting to turn into San Diego far sooner than we did because it truly did feel like we were going well out of our way. But I was glad we didn’t because there were no tie-ups or kelp diving that day. Thank God for small favors.
September 10, 2013
I should have seen the signs. Actually, maybe I did. I noticed the flying fish off our portside. Lots and lots of somethings, maybe 100 little somethings, were jumping out of the water. “They must be running from some other big fish.” I said to Jay. “Uhhumm..” he nodded distractedly in agreement. We both went back to doing what we were doing, which was, I don’t know what. My guess, Jay was navigating and I was dreaming about our journey. That seems to be the rhythm that we had fallen into thus far. Then, as we were discussing nothing much about something, I noticed the spray.
“Whales!” I interrupted our conversation. We weren’t too close, but they were there just off our port side and I could see them. Why is it, that just a sighting of a whale, no matter how far away, can spark a primal excitement like no other?
The first time I saw a whale in its natural habitat was when we were sailing from Two Harbors to Avalon. It was another moment when I interrupted the conversation with, “Whales! I think I saw a whale!” (Now, note that this was the very first time ever I had encountered the great species and I was beyond excited. I was terrified.) I pointed out the direction in which I had seen the spray. It seemed to me as if she was traveling in the same direction only a ½ mile ahead of us.
Then, quiet. I stood on the bow watching and waiting to see where I would see her next. And then – pow! She breached on the starboard bow of our boat, with me right there!! A Blue whale in all her glory and me, a small human, trembling in the pulpit. Wow. Is there any other word to describe it? Spiritual would be the next word I would choose. Nothing like it.
I have had many experiences of whale watching since that first time and it never, ever, gets old. Each experience is a wonder in and of itself. Like the time we witnessed a pod of Grays migrating north. We were just outside Channel Islands Marina and the sea was like a lake. Jay and I saw a pod of maybe ten (at least) Grays moving slowly and oh, so gracefully, north. We followed them from a distance as they headed toward Ventura. As we were watching them off our starboard bow, I heard a sound to the port. I looked down to see a Gray had come over to check us out. She breached just next to us and all I could say was, “Jay! Jay! Jay!” By the time he looked over, our Gray had disappeared into the sea leaving only ripples of current to profess its existence.
Or, another time, when we were cruising with our friends, Donna & Mike, and Cindy & Bruce aboard their boat, “Forever Young.” It was another day where the sea was like a lake. We were on our way to circumnavigate Anacapa Island when we ran into a pod of Orca Whales. What a sight to see! They were showing off, I am sure. Blowing sprays, spy-hopping and wagging their tales as they dove into the sea. We slowly maneuvered closer, but not too close, and they seemed to welcome our attention as they swam and circled around us for at least an hour. This was yet another special moment in the life of a sailor.
And one other time, we were leaving MDR for Catalina in a dense fog. Several hours later, the fog was lifting so Jay and I took a moment to eat our lunch. Afterward, realizing it had been awhile since we had done a 360 view of our surroundings, I stood up to look. Again, it was another, “Jay! Jay! Turn to port! Turn to Port! Turn!” moment. There, right in front of us was a pod (not one, but a pod!) of Blue whales! Large, magnificent and oh, so close. Fortunately, we were able to move out of their way, or they out of our way. But it was an amazing moment in the sea stories of our journey.
Sea life; mammals, birds, fish; they bring such beauty to our lives. So, as many times as I witness the majesty of whales, I never take them for granted and always feel blessed to have witnessed their grandeur.
September 9, 2013
Oceanside is the first place we are visiting that is a complete unknown for me. I haven’t been here by boat or by car. So now I feel one step closer to cruising.
Like Dana Point, it is a very popular harbor. It is completely full and it is my understanding that there is a waiting list for people who want to dock their boats here. But unlike Dana Point, Oceanside feels laid back and casual.
The people here have been so friendly. From Joe, our dock neighbor, who welcomed us and helped us dock, to Dave the Port Captain from Oceanside Yacht Club (OYC), to Buzz who just happened by on his kayak and ended up spending a half hour just chatting about boats and sailing south. But where are the women? They are hovering in the background, I see them. Trouble is, I havent heard from them. Not sure what is up with that but they certainly aren’t like our outgoing ladies in Channel Islands Marina.
We spent the first evening at OYC, enjoying a salmon dinner and conversation that inevitably led to Mexico. Dave introduced us around and made sure we connected with fellow sailors that have made the journey previously. It was a fun night filled with good information.
Walking has fast become the mode of transportation since we don’t have a car or bikes. The dinghy and kayaks are fun but a good vertical stretch is much needed when one lives on a boat.
Train tracks lie not far from the marina. When I hear the train go by, I go back in time and am reminded of my father. Dad used to tell me that as a little boy he would listen for the train and long to go with it and travel to faraway places. Eventually he did, as our family seemed to move every nine months or so. Dad was always looking for that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Sometimes he found it and sometimes not.
I must admit, for the longest time I felt our moving so often was a terrible thing. And it was difficult and lonely. I was always the new girl in school. But in hindsight, I am grateful too that through our travels, through our ups and downs, Dad taught me tolerance and acceptance of all peoples; white or black, rich or poor, strong or feeble. I suppose I should thank him for my wanderlust too – and the ability to shift easily with the wind. All those years of influence and practice have led me to here. Both a blessing in this new life I am living.
I miss my father, but I feel his spirit with me – every step of the way.
Sailing Southern California
September 7, 2013
“What does that mean? ‘Two Years Before the Mast?'” I asked Jay as we entered the harbor at Dana Point on Thursday afternoon. (As a sailor, he thought I should know this, but I did not.) He proceeded to explain, “Before the mast is where the crews quarters were, (also called the forecastle) the midshipmen’s quarters were mid ship and the Captain and officer(s) were housed in the stern of the boat.”
We were discussing Richard Henry Dana, Jr.’s book, “Two Years Before the Mast.” In 1834, at nineteen years of age, Mr. Dana left Harvard and Boston on board the ship Pilgrim and headed for the Pacific. He was hoping the sea air would help him overcome an eye ailment that was the result of his bout with a severe case of the measles. “Two Years Before the Mast” is his story of his journey and experience while a merchant seaman. While traveling, he witnessed the inequities in which the crew was treated and went on to become an attorney, keen in maritime law as well as an advocate for merchant seamen’s rights.
Here, staged at the Ocean Institute in Dana Point Harbor, is a full size replica of the ship Pilgrim for tourists to visit and learn about its history. This weekend was special, though, as six other tall ships converged on the harbor for the Tall Ships Festival. (There was supposed to be eight total, but as of Friday night, The Bill of Rights was a no show.) They kicked off the festival with a Friday evening sunset parade and they were out in all their splendor, shooting off their cannons. It was a sight to see and reminded Jay of the 1976 Bicentennial celebration, when while he was in the US Navy Band, he was commissioned to write, “Parade of the Tall Ships” for Operation Sail in New York Harbor. Only then they had over a hundred tall ships in their parade, coming from all over the world. Jay’s piece has remained one of the classic band compositions and continues to be played by the US Navy and other bands worldwide.
But wait! There was another parade too! It was the Elephant Parade: Welcome to America. This is a city-wide art exhibition of life-size Asian elephants painted by various artists and celebrities around the world to bring awareness to the plight of elephants on our earth and to raise money to fund education to help coordinate a peaceful mammal/human coexistence. We had fun walking around the harbor trying to find all the different designs. The elephant is one of my favorite animals and I am glad to know there is such a charity trying to save their precious lives.
Our experience at Dana Point Harbor was full of surprises as when we arrived we were greeted by our friends KC and Myrna. KC has a Newport 30 here in the harbor and when she got my email that we had left, she said she had to come down and give us a proper hug goodbye. Later we shared a lovely meal at the Dana West Yacht Club and then gave them a proper hug goodbye the following morning when they sailed off to Catalina in GypSea. (Not sure of the spelling. Took a guess.)
All in all our trip so far has been smooth sailing – or motoring as there has been little wind. Except for the lost fender. Need to add that to my list.
Sailing Southern California
September 4, 2013
We have been here before. Many times before. But this time it is different, of course, because when we leave we will head south instead of north. And this time, when we leave, we don’t know if we will ever be back. But then do we ever really know what the next day, or even the next moment, will bring? I think not. So maybe this is yet another reminder to always live in the present moment. That being said (or written), if you live in Southern California and have never visited Santa Catalina Island,or worse yet, never explored the multitude of harbors and coves beyond Avalon, you are missing a beautiful experience.
One of our favorite places to visit is Isthmus Cove, Two Harbors. They call it Two Harbors because this is the narrowest part of the island where you can actually walk from one harbor (Isthmus) on one side of the island, to the other harbor (Cat),on the opposite side of the island. I believe it is about a half mile walk.
Our friends prefer Cat Harbor as this is labeled as a “Year-round Safe Harbor” and they love the beauty of its surroundings. It is more secluded and reminds them of the anchorages of Santa Cruz. I think this is precisely why Jay and I would rather moor at the Isthmus. After years of visiting the national parklands of Santa Cruz with all its ruggedness and authenticity of years past, we long for a taste of comfort. And that is what the Isthmus offers; a bit of luxury, but not too much.
They have one general store, showers and a laundry, a beach, dinghy dock, of course, a café – that serves both breakfast and lunch and onefine-dining restaurant with two bars; one inside and one outside for those beautiful sunny afternoons.
There are many other coves too, July Fourth and Cherry Cove, named for the Catalina Cherry trees lined up along the canyon behind the cove. There is White’s Landing and Moonstone Cove. There are probably a half dozen or more coves, too many to list here, but another of our favorites is Emerald Bay. It is as rich in color as its name suggests.
So, if you are wondering where to go on your next vacation,why not try your own backyard. Southern California’s Channel Islands are truly a treasure to be enjoyed.
Sailing Southern California
September 2, 2013
In the late seventeenth century, David Potts came from Wales to America. His soon to be wife, Alice Croasdale, left England with her family and crossed the sea with William Penn on the ship Welcome. What must it have been like to step off the land and onto a ship to sail across an ocean to a place far away and unknown? Exciting and frightening, I suspect. Not unlike the emotions that are running through my veins this very moment.
Okay, I’m not crossing an ocean (not yet, anyway). And I am only traveling to Catalina at the moment. But the thought of taking our boat to unknown ports along the coast of Mexico is both exciting and scary. Yet I feel alive and connected to the sea and the earth and…
Sometimes, when I am at a loss for words, I look to our favorite poet, Pablo Neruda. No one says it better than Pablo.
LOVE, WE’RE GOING HOME NOW
Love, we’re going home now.
Where the vines clamber over the trellis:
Even before you, the summer will arrive,
On its honeysuckle feet, in your bedroom.
Our nomadic kisses wandered over all the world:
Armenia, dollop of disinterred honey:
Ceylon, green dove: and the Yangtze with its old
Old patience, dividing the day from the night.
And now, dearest, we return, across the crackling sea
Like two blind birds to their wall,
To their nest in a distant spring:
Because love cannot always fly without resting,
Our lives return to the wall, to the rocks of the sea:
Our kisses head back home where they belong.
The Backstory
August 31, 2013
“Don’t fight!” Alison said. “Cruising is fraught with the possibility of error. Things will spill, break, fly across the cabin, fall overboard, sink, get drenched by a wave, spoil, burn and fade. It’s nobody’s fault. It actually may be somebody’s fault, but it doesn’t matter. In time, you’ll both make the same number of idiotic mistakes, so it all zeros out.”
She and Allan were visiting again, only this time it was to deliver some gifts and parting words of wisdom. You see, Alison and Allan have done this before, and they understand exactly what we are going through.
I got Alison’s call yesterday afternoon when she wanted to know if we were at the boat. She was flying out the next morning for Shanghai and since we were counting the days before leaving, she and Allan wanted to stop by the boat and say goodbye. Were we at the boat? In fact, we were not. We were running errands but agreed to meet them an hour later on Cadenza. As usual, they arrived by dinghy. Alison says this is one of the ways she gets her boat fix now that they have sold Fly Aweigh. Fly Aweigh was their Catalina Morgan 440 they purchased to go cruising. It was 2009 and the economy was crashing. Both Alison and Allan are airline pilots. She flies for United and he for UPS. It was a perfect time to take a hiatus and so with their airlines’ blessing, they took a leave of absence. They bought a boat, outfitted her and sailed her south to Mexico and ultimately, crossed the Pacific, ending up in Australia where they sold her, bought a van and proceeded to do a road trip throughout New Zealand and then, a year and a half after they left Ventura Harbor, flew home and resumed what most would call a “normal” life. So, if anyone would be savvy to the stress, we were under it was them. And they came to calm our spirits and say farewell. But there we were. Not even 24 hours later, fighting. Right there in the cockpit of our boat on the end tie for the entire harbor to witness. Well, maybe I shouldn’t say fighting. I was yelling and Jay was exhausted and frustrated and a bit angry with me. We had been working very hard over the last few weeks; installing solar and checking the engine and electronics. We sanded and painted and varnished. We repaired and repainted our dinghy. We rerigged the davits. We organized and provisioned and labeled. We have taken things off the boat only to make room to bring new things onto the boat. We have carted things back and forth and back and forth, up the dock, down the dock, in the car and out of the car trying to figure out what we need to take and what we don’t. With our home in Martha’s Vineyard, a storage unit in both Buellton and Oxnard, California, and our boat (potentially) in Mexico, (not to mention Jay’s ongoing professorial gig at WVU) it’s a constant struggle – this logistics thing.
So, yes, the fuses blew as Jay was annoyed with me that I had made yet another mistake. (Oh yes, I have a list of mistakes – like the time we took an overnight passage to Catalina Island. I forgot to batten down the miscellaneous items in the bathroom. It was a beautiful full moon but we had quite a rough, rolly sea. I went below to find lotions and such toppling about so, not wanting to put the light on, I put my arms out and gathered everything and swept them into the sink. Later, when we arrived in Two Harbors, we discovered that I had inadvertently turned on the faucet with a brush of my arm. I had single-handedly emptied out one of our two water tanks of its hundred gallon capacity! Good thing we weren’t crossing an ocean. Or there was the time I burned out the water heater by leaving it on with no water in it. These are just two of the many follies I have made in preparation of cruising.) But the truth is, today’s mistake wasn’t so terrible; it was just an added problem to an already complicated day. I was trying to help. Really. I was cleaning up the cockpit because in the throes of preparation it seems there are more and more obstacles and stuff lying about the boat waiting to be tucked in and battened down for our voyage. Meanwhile it is quite a mess and I was putting things back in order. On the list of things to do was to get gas to fill various tanks on board, one of which was the generator. While trying to get the generator back into its nice new canvas cover, I inadvertently spilled gasoline all over our teak decks in the cockpit. I watched helplessly as it soaked in while Jay lamented over the fact that the odor would never come out and we would be stuck with one more yucky smell on our boat. Well, it did come out – with Jay’s instruction and the help of an absorbent oil pad. And we apologized and laughed about it later over dinner. But it does go to show that although we are “living the dream,” we are still dealing with reality.
August, 27. 2013
Dawn is my absolute favorite time of day on the boat. All is quiet but for the rising of the birds and a lone sea lion’s bark. Across the harbor, the roar of human traffic begins slowly. I love the feel of the air against my skin. It is cool and soft. And the sunlight promises warmth as it lies gently across the water.
I am excited at the prospect of waking up in an anchorage along the coast of Baja. I imagine it will be much the same, yet very different. For one thing, the roar of human traffic might be described as a hum and that I relish. For another, I look forward to making new friends and learning about the Mexican culture. And then there’s the food; fish tacos and trading batteries for lobsters!
August 24, 2013
I remember, once when we were at Prisoner’s Harbor on Santa Cruz Island, hearing two children exclaim in delight, “We brought our home with us!” As I look around at Channel Islands Harbor, I realize we will not be bringing our “home” with us at all. We will be bringing where we live. Because it really is true, that old saying, “Home is where the heart is.” And right now my heart is with all our wonderful friends whom we are leaving. To them I say, thank you. You have made our lives rich. We will miss each and every one of you.