Ventura to San Diego

While we were at dockside in Ventura Isles Harbor our older son, Rodrigo, and his fiancée, Dianna, drove from nearby Camarillo to have dinner with us. We ate at the highly recommended Brophey Brothers in the Ventura Marina Village and it was all-around excellent; food, service, and atmosphere. Afterwards, the “kids” kindly drove us to a nearby Von’s so that we could buy a little fresh produce, bread, and a few other odds and ends.

It was sure good to see family! I'd love to have also seen my mom and dad, who live in Simi Valley, but my dad had recent surgery and I didn't want them to make the trip out. My mom has a hard enough time getting my dad to take it easy and allow his body to recuperate gradually without me tempting him to get out in the car for an evening! Hang in there, Dad, we'll see you soon! Love you both!!!

The next morning, Wednesday, October 24, we left Ventura headed for Santa Catalina Island. It was another day and night at sea, and yet another leg of our trip when the wind was practically non-existent. We hadn’t realized we’d be motoring most of the way to Mexico! During the night the wind came up nicely and we got a few hours of actual sailing in but then it died again so we were back to the “iron jib.” For me, it’s easier to be motoring when I have a night watch; I’m not the sailor Mike is, although I am learning, and I don’t have the confidence yet to be under sail when I’m on deck alone in the middle of the night. Perhaps by the time we are heading home it will be a different story; we can hope!

We approached Catalina from the northwest, as the sun was rising and casting a red glow on the sky and water, entering Catalina Island Harbor which is on the west side of the island, or its “back side” if you are looking at the island from the southern California mainland. This calm and sheltered harbor with few boats was the quietest and most peaceful anchorage we’ve had so far. Apparently the fishing there is excellent, too, because we were treated to scores of pelicans flying low over the water and diving after fish. At dusk the activity was at its peak with a pelican crashing into the water every couple of minutes. Seagulls chased and harassed the pelicans, trying to steal their catch, and creating a cacophony of screeches and shrieks. Quite entertaining!

Once we had anchored and made good with the harbor patrol Mike inflated our dinghy and we set off for shore. There was a tiny little town there called “Two Harbors,” so named for the two harbors, one of either side of it, that it serves. As the harbor patrol guy told us, there was “one of everything,” meaning one restaurant, one building for showers and rest rooms, one little grocery store, etc.

We found the Visitor’s Center and went in to see what information we could get. Not much, as it turned out. In fact, Mike and I were surprised at the cool reception we got when we went in. I asked if there was a bus to Avalon (about a 2.5 hour ride) and the woman said “yes, it leaves at noon.” I told Mike that sounded good, and then asked the woman what time it returned. “It doesn’t,” she said, “not until tomorrow.” I don’t know why that information wasn’t offered up front. What if we had taken that bus to Avalon, expecting to return the same day? Seems the bus only makes same-day round-trips during the summer peak season. In fact, we got a cool reception every place we went to the point that we wondered if the “locals” didn’t like tourists which would be strange since how else would their little island town survive? Get a clue you people in Two Harbors!

We took a long hike along the east side of the island, perhaps three or four miles in all, and the exercise felt great after so many sedentary days on the boat. Down in the water we could see several scuba diving and snorkeling classes going on and two groups of colorful kayaks. From our position up on the cliff we could see straight through the clear water to the coral and plants on the bottom.

On our way back to the boat we stopped for lunch at the only restaurant in town, where we met the ONLY nice person of the day, the young lady who took our order and waited on us, she was GREAT, and where we also enjoyed the company of two cats (one orange and white, the other grey and white) that came by begging for food. They got most of my chicken enchiladas! Later we saw a solid black cat who wasn’t at all interested in making our acquaintance but coolly allowed me to snap a quick photo. I do seem to find cats to make friends with just about everywhere I go; I really don't know why!

We also found a rope swing, which we had a wonderful time swinging on, and passed by the one-room schoolhouse where the kids and their teacher were enjoying their lunch outside. Ahhhh, a simpler life, eh?

Now, after another day and night at sea, we have finally arrived in San Diego. We’re now surrounded by boats that are flying the purple “Baja Ha-Ha” flag. There are nearly 180 in all, docked or anchored in several marinas. Tomorrow the rally activities begin with a skipper’s meeting then a barbecue and Halloween party. It’s overcast and rainy today but the paper says sunny tomorrow so I hope the forecast is correct. I’m exhausted today so we will go to bed early and try to catch up on sleep. But first, a walk into town to find internet access so I can post this update.

I'm not sure how soon I will be able to post again. We are due to enter Mexico on Monday, at which time all bets are off as far as where to get on-line. I hear that there are Starbucks there, though, so if I can find one of those I'm sure I'll be able to send off emails and or update my blog. So stay tuned, as always!

Searching for Dry Land . . .

. . . and Whales!

Internet access has not been as readily available as I had hoped but, finally, we are in a marina where I can get on-line. What an adventure we have had already and only a week into our two-month trip!

I last posted from Monterey Bay. We left there Friday morning, our destination Morrow Bay, some 100 or so miles south, by water. It was a beautiful, sunny day, with mild winds and just a few scattered clouds. In the afternoon we had enough wind to sail for a few hours, but the rest of the time we motor-sailed, even with the larger genoa that we had rigged in place of the regular jib (the front sail). Sea lions followed us out of the bay and played in our wake.

Heading into the night we readied everything for overnight sailing; we got our cold-weather gear handy, ate an early dinner, and moved into our two-on, two-off watch schedule. As the sun went down, however, the wind and seas began to rise. It got colder and darker and the seas rougher until I was scared enough to wake Mike a half-hour before my midnight-to-two a.m. watch was up.

Mike gradually reduced sail until we had no more than a small bit of the genoa no bigger than a baby’s blanket flying and still it seemed too much. We had a following sea with huge swells taller than our boat’s deck that often crested and broke behind us sending spray over the stern. The water was inky black with starkly contrasting whitecaps that nearly glowed under the half moon. The fierce wind gusted and changed directions almost constantly while howling through the rigging.

I huddled below terrified that any minute we’d be capsized, or something on the boat would fail -- like the engine -- and we’d be left floundering in the tossing waves or, worse, the wind would turn us broadside to the waves and the next big one would fill the cockpit & cabin with water. I didn’t forget my prayers that night!

To me the night was endless. Mike told me to try to sleep and I did lie down in the aft cabin but who can relax when in constant danger of being tossed out of the berth? And I had to watch the porthole constantly to make sure I could see Mike out in the cockpit. If I couldn’t see him I had to get up and go to the hatchway and peer out to make sure he hadn’t gone overboard. Wrapped up in multiple layers complete with balaclava (which covers the entire head except a small portion of face) and thick gloves he looked like an astronaut in a space capsule as he moved around checking the GPS, the wind-vane, and the sails.

Around 5 a.m. the wind finally began to calm a bit. I stood halfway up the ladder in the hatchway shrinking from the cold while Mike reported how well the boat had stood up to the rough conditions, the Monitor wind-vane hadn’t broken off and flown away in the wind, the engine hung in like a champ, and the genoa which is made of a lighter material than the regular jib hadn’t torn. He sent me below to look at the chart and see if there was a port closer than Morrow that we could duck into. Later that morning he wrote in his log, “Rough night. Enroute to Morrow but took refuge at San Simeon. Arrived 09:30 and slept.” I added my own note: “Deb terrified.”In San Simeon Bay there was no marina or other amenities for transient boaters so we anchored off-shore. I was able to use my cell phone to call my mom and check on my dad, who was still in the hospital but improving. We had a nice view of Hearst Castle high up on the hills.

The next day, Sunday, we left and day-sailed to San Luis Obispo Bay (skipping Morrow Bay entirely). Again we anchored off-shore and, although there was a water-taxi available to take boaters to shore, we were too late in the evening to use it so we simply stayed on-board. I called my mom again and as my dad had come home from the hospital that day I was able to talk to him. He sounded good! I also called my son, Rodrigo, and our housesitter, Richard, who said the cats are doing fine. Naturally, after talking to Richard and hearing the antics of the kitties I missed them more than ever.

We left San Luis Obispo Bay Monday a.m. and sailed all night around Point Arguello and Point Conception, also known as the “Cape Horn of the Pacific” for its notoriety in being a very difficult “crossing.” The Santa Ana winds, which are currently causing so much trouble and so many fires in southern California and northernmost Mexico, possibly helped produce the calmest seas in this area in recent history: gorgeous & calm mirror-like water, warm breezes until the deepest part of the night, and light winds. Not ideal for sailing, true, and we had to use our motor, but definitely my choice of conditions for standing night-watches. What a welcome difference from just two nights before!
All throughout the day on Monday we sighted whales, gangs of sea lions (many dozens at a time), and numerous dolphins which raced alongside of us and wove under and in front of our bow. At one point I lay down on the deck at the bow and dangled my arm over the side where a dolphin almost grazed my hand as it leapt above the surface of the water. I could clearly see them as they sped along under the water, sleek and shiny gray, and sometimes upside-down showing their white underbellies. What amazing, friendly, and playful creatures dolphins are.

We also saw a number of off-shore oil rigs – huge things they are, and lit up like Christmas trees at night. We located them on the chart and got a kick out of their names; “Irene,” “Gail,” “Hidalgo,” “Harvest,” “Hermosa,” and several standing all in a row are “Hellhouse A,” “B,” and “C.”

Now it’s Tuesday, October 23. We arrived at the Ventura Isle Marina in Ventura, CA, around noon, and it’s our first time on dry land since Monterey Bay – that’s five days. You can bet we have been happy with the amenities here; all the ones we’ve been anxious for: laundry facilities, a cute little marina shopping area with gift shops and restaurants (including one offering internet access), super-clean rest-rooms, and, best of all, showers. Ahhhhhhhh!

Dinner with Rodrigo and Dianna tonight (they live in nearby Camarillo), then tomorrow we head off to Catalina Island………check back in a few days for more of our adventures!

Rain in Alameda . . . Sun in Monterey Bay

Our first 24-hour sail is completed. We left Alameda at 7:30 a.m. on Wed’day, October 17, 2007, and arrived in Monterey Bay Marina at about 9 a.m. Thursday, the 18th. Luckily for me, Mike is going easy on me with the non-stop, overnight sailing business. One, I’ve been sick and am still coughing and two, I was seasick all day the first day. Believe me, next time I’ll listen to the captain and take some preventive Dramamine! He was fine. Being seasick (sorry, Mom, but truly there is no better word) sucks. I was miserable. Mike says there are only two ways to combat the queasiness; stay up top where you can see the horizon and get fresh air, or go below but only to lay down with eyes shut and sleep. I tried the first and it was ok for awhile. Finally, I had to go below where I ended up sleeping most of the day.

Mike, meanwhile, got treated to a whale sighting. It came up and blew nearby, and he thought he also saw a youngster, but it may have been the dolphin that was accompanying the whale. The whale almost immediately flipped its fluke up and dove but the dolphin (or dolphins, it was hard to tell if there were multiple) played in our wake for a few minutes. I did get to see the dolphin(s) but missed the whale.

On the flipside Mike also got to experience the RAIN. Yep, it rained during our departure. Then it poured. Mike had a bucket up on deck and kept an eye on the level of water in it. He estimated at least two inches in just a few hours. He was in full foul-weather gear but I’m sure it was not pleasant. You have to really love sailing to stand at the helm of a sailboat in that kind of weather and still be able to smile!

I was finally up and around and a little better (though still eating nothing but saltines) at about 6 p.m., just in time to take my first “watch.” Mike had us on course and the Monitor wind vane keeping us there. All I had to do was watch out for other boats and anything else big enough to sink us, and make little adjustments to the wind vane if needed. The GPS was on and showed the route we were to follow. Mike went below and wrapped up in a quilt for some much needed rest.

I had nervously anticipated my first watch alone but it was actually really nice. I was dressed warmly in layers and the sun had not gone down yet but was low in the sky coloring the water and sky a gorgeous reddish-orange. We were motor-sailing (using the engine but also with the sails up) because the wind was too light for sails alone. Not the best wind for sailing but it made for a calm & easy night for me.

The first thing that happened was three sea lions surfaced near the back of the boat, blowing the water from their nostrils, and then they romped around like 10-year old boys. They only stayed a few minutes then were gone. I watched the sun go down and the stars come out. An almost-half moon had been up for hours already and it grew brighter. I tried to picture all the sea-life going on below the restless surface of the water. Then I began wondering why God covered so much of the surface of the earth with water – and the majority of it salt water, which we can’t even drink!

I noticed the bright green phosphorescence in the water to either side of the boat and in our wake. I could see why Mike is so fascinated with it; it’s mesmerizing. I was leaning over the railing at the stern staring into the wake when Mike quietly came up behind me and gave me a start. The two hours was up already. My turn to go below and get some shut-eye.


My subsequent watches got progressively tougher. Eight to midnight was not too bad. I got to see an awesome sunset. I tried wearing a headlamp to read but found it was better to just place it in my lap and train it on the book’s pages. I couldn’t do too much reading, though, it being a bit of a strain on my eyes. During Mike’s watch he had switched from the wind-vane to the auto-steering device that electronically adjusts the rudder to keep the boat on its prescribed course. It’s definitely better in light winds. Again, all I really had to do was keep an eye on it, and of course, watch for obstructions in our path. It still wasn’t too cold to stay up top so I did, using a small timer set at 15 minute intervals to remind me to get up and take a look around.

My next watch should have been at 2 a.m., but Mike let me sleep through that one and woke me at 4 a.m. He figured I needed the rest and he’d been able to tell by my frequent coughing that I hadn’t slept much during the first two hours. Four to 6 a.m. was much colder! Mike told me he’d been spending most of the time down below, going up every ten minutes to look around. I found he’d had the right idea and did the same. This third and final watch of the night was the hardest. I was bleary-eyed and cold and had a dull headache coming on. I sat on the settee across from the table with my head in my hands with the timer counting down the ten minutes. Then I’d quietly as possible climb the ladder into the cockpit and take a 360 degree look around, check the GPS, make a small adjustment if necessary then retreat below and start the timer again.

We’re spending today and tonight here in Monterey Bay. I’m happy to be in a cell phone service area because today my dad is having surgery to remove one of his kidneys and I’ll want to call my mom around noon or 1 p.m. to see how things are going. I didn’t like the thought that she wouldn’t be able to call me should anything go wrong. I don’t expect anything to go wrong, not with all the prayers on his behalf, and the blessing he received, but I still want to be reachable. Mike couldn’t have planned our schedule better. My dad has been on my mind all night and morning.

We had breakfast at Lulu’s, also known as The Griddle in the Middle (remember that place, Susan?) and as we were walking over there we remarked that the ground was rocking under our feet. Guess we got our sea-legs just in time to walk on solid ground again. We took a walk along Fisherman’s Wharf. I’ve been here many times but this is the prettiest I’ve seen it. Very few people are here yet, the sun is up, and everything looks so fresh. Sea lions are everywhere on the docks and buoys and are they ever noisy!

Don’t know how we are going to sleep tonight; I wonder if they quiet down when it gets dark?

There's so much more to tell....but I'm at Starbucks, on battery power (why I didn't bring my power cord I don't know) and I still need to check my e-mail so hopefully I'll have a chance to post again soon. I have already started my digital photo album for this trip. The title? "Two Months Before the Mast, or, Dragged Aboard the Baja Ha-Ha."