Brilliant moonlight, shooting stars, and shades of baby blues and pinks.... What an amazing collection of memories these last few days hold.
We really enjoyed Morro Bay with it's funky restaurants, friendly people, VW bugs still sporting flowers, salt-water taffy, 'real' antique stores, unique characters (real people characters) like the fellow who is the cobbler (but was a boxer and has an amazing collection of boxing memorabelia in his shop), and the fuel guy 'Butch' who is a lot friendlier than the locals said he'd be (helped me with my need to fill our fuel jerry cans, and 'Mike' who works for the harbour and helped me dispose of some 'bad' fuel from another stop... and the guys at the Fish Market/Restaurant who served us wonderful oysters in the half shell with Chardonay while we listened to two older gentlemen making music and singing for us, and watching the fishermen unload some amazing fish (like Opa) from their holds right next door... folks like that. And we enjoyed meeting most of the members of the Morro Bay Yacht Club.. I say most because there were a couple of less than friendlies... but I guess most clubs have those and we can live with that. But, it was time to go... and so, at 2100 hrs. on Friday, October 7th we bid adieu to our friends Jeanne and Tom on SV Eagle, slipped our lines and slid away into the dark, heading out the estuary and into open water once again. We turned our noses south, tuned into the GPS and headed off onto our next new course.
It occurred to me there may be some of you who aren't familiar with what 'slipping your lines and heading out' entails for a trip such as this... so, if you'll permit me, I'd like to step to the side and describe a 'moment in time' that time of preparing... for us. I've already talked about all the kinds of general preparation required to leave any dock for any trip, but there are even more things that must be done before heading out on what we now call a 'transit'. These transits aren't just another short jaunt off to the next harbour. The territory between where we've been and where we're going can be docile or it can be hostile or it can be both; and no amount of carefully crafted weather forecasts can guarantee which it will be. Both boat and crew must be prepared for the worst.. just in case. To that end we have to secure all moving equipment (inside and out) and that includes the books, dishes, clothing, electronics, couch cushions (seats and backs) anything and everything that can fall or be thrown. Some say "imagine your boat being picked up and turned upside-down. What moved? Fix it." As well, we have to prepare ourselves. Getting dressed to go out on deck feels, by the time you're done, like you've just put on one of those fluffy snow suits we used to wear as kids... like the Michelin dough boy. First your fleece layer, then a wind layer, then a couple more fleeces on top, then your rain/wind jacket, then your PFD... then the flashlight for your pocket, your kleenex, your glasses, and finally that thing we love to hate... the dreaded tether. I've never yelled at an inanimate object as much as I've yelled at my tether. When I want to go forward, it holds me back. When I want to turn around it stops me. When I want to move quickly across two lockers, it stops me in mid-air... or trips me... And if I have to get out of my PFD in a hurry (like, you know, when you gotta go and it's taken way too long to get below to do so....and you're in a hurry)... it gets all tangled up to make sure you have no quick way of unlatching it from the two D rings it's supposed to be connected to and then it hides the other end that, at some point or other, you stuffed in one of your many pockets to get out of the way... I think you get the picture... Anyway, we're not done yet. Then there's the sustenance issue. No one, and I repeat no one, is going to cook when the boat is doing a topsy turvey dance act... so you have to pre-plan what you're going to eat over the next 8, 10, or 30 hours .. whatever it is. While on watch we snack on cereal bars and juice boxes... stuff like that (maybe the occasional red licorice or salt-water taffy :-).. so they have to be easy to reach. Also, from time to time we try to act like civilized adults and have a meal. They can range from pre-made sandwiches to those bags of frozen one-pot dinners we've learned to heat up in our frying pan while suspended from the stove by a 'bum-strap'. It's quite simple really... if you have four arms :-) Then there's the actual watch system. We haven't perfected it yet. Many have... and they recommend 4 hour watches, or 3 hour, or... well you know... it goes on. We're settling in with the approx. 3 hour watches (give or take an hour depending on how we feel) and it works pretty well for the two of us. We set up our one long couch as a single 'hot bunk' with a lee cloth that holds us in place. It is amazingly comfortable and once we figured out how to wake each other up, it's working well. We now have an 'alarm bracelet' for use when the 'sleeper' is refusing to wake up and/or can't hear their alarm. It's a dog collar (thank you Sophie) worn as a bracelet, with a long string on it that reaches all the way out to the cockpit. Then, if the person on watch wants to wake the sleeper up, they need only pull on the string. It's amazing how your arm gently levitating off your pillow will wake you up - no problem.
OK that's enough prep. Let's get on with the trip. We headed out of Morro Bay and turned our noses south. Our main goal was to get around Point Conception (described as the "Cape Horn of the Pacific") unscathed by early morning, and then to carry on to the Channel Islands Yacht Harbor where we would stop for a day or two. Our plan was almost flawless. We did round Pt. Arguello and Pt. Conception without any problems... and without any wind (another motor-sail trip) and it turned out we were making such good time (picked up a current I think) that we would be passing Channel Island Yacht Harbor at midnight.. not a good time to stop. So, as in almost every other passage so far, we adjusted our plans and decided to continue south. At 1100 hrs., we found ourselves at Redondo Beach (the longest beach I've ever seen) and guests of the King Harbour Yacht Club. Our transit was calm and beautiful. The days were filled with beautiful scenery, clear blue skies, warm sunshine and visits from various mammals and birds. Our nights were filled with brilliant moonlight, shooting stars and glorious starlight displays. It never actually got dark. The moonlight and starlight were so bright there was always a horizon to be seen... no darkness. And the moon sinking into the sea was every bit as dazzling as the sun setting.
Finally,this morning, as we made our way down Santa Barbara Channel, we were treated to the most spectacular display of colour I'm sure mother nature could conjur up. As the dawn light began to show, there were wisps of clouds starting to swirl with the winds high up. They began as clear grey and then slowly changed from pastel to brilliant oranges and blacks. Then the warm glow of the rising sun began to climb, the clouds turned to the softest shade of pink... all of them, backed by the clear baby blue of the morning sky. This pink and blue display covered the entire sky and lasted for over half an hour... My little camera will be unable to capture the clarity but I tried anyway... we shall see how the photos turned out. The best of course, remains in my minds eye.
We're here at the yacht club now and have met up with several other BCA (Bluewater Cruising Association) boats. SV Iridium, Tahnoo and Sea Fever - all boats from our BC bluewater cruising group - are here. Some will continue south tomorrow and the rest of us will follow. For now, we catch up on our sleep and prep our little home for the next phase. We're very excited. We meet our friends Susan and George in Dana Point on Oct. 14th (5 more sleeps) and they will have Sophie (ships dog) with them too. Can't wait to see them all.
Our plans for now have us at Dana Point from Oct 13 to 17ish and then probably over to Avalon on Catalina Island. We're going to hang back from San Diego until after the Baha Haha has left (Oct. 24th) as the docks are/will be chocker-block full with the over 150 boats collecting to do the group rally down the coast of the Baja from San Diego to Cabo San Lucas.
We all walked out for an amazing feed of sushi tonight. Now we're all back at our respective boats, tucking ourselves in for a well-earned sleep. I may have trouble falling asleep tho'... without the throb of the diesel engine, the whine of the whirling auto-pilot, the beeping of the AIS and the annoying and often irrelevant broadcasts on the VHF by the seemingly too young and/or 'not finished training yet' Coast Guard youngsters.
Oh well... I can but try. Good night... CJ
