Coyote Point to the Channel Islands and Return July 4, 2002 - July 15, 2002
Wave 1: Whole Lotta Shakin'...
It must have something to do with my days as a as a Navy Damage Controlman, but I like to be prepared before setting off to sea. We'd spent weeks making plans, checking the safety gear, and taking shakedown cruises to prepare for our second trip to the Channel Islands on our Catalina 36, Kia Orana. Things were just about in order, when Ryan and I decided that a Father's Day shakedown sail sounded far better than our intended cleaning. Off we set, powering through the mud of the dropping tide into the bold Coyote Point winds. We were soon at hull-speed, enjoying a beam reach across the Bay when...BAM!
We had hit something on the bottom hard enough that I sent Ryan down to look for water. None found, and the rudder felt fine. Soon back to hull-speed on our way in the direction of Alameda. An hour later, as we sailed into the East Bay wind hole, I decided to start the motor to check the prop. As soon as power was applied to the prop, the boat shook like it was going to start jettisoning parts. What a terrible thing to have happen less than three weeks before we were to leave. What about our plans?
We decided that it was best to sail into nearby Nelson's Marine where, as soon as she was hoisted from the water, I could see that the prop shaft was bent. We told sad stories of needing the boat within two weeks for our trip to the Channel Islands. "No problem."
And it wasn't. Kia Orana was back in her slip the weekend before our departure where we continued our preparations, Teresa planning and provisioning for meals and me getting the boat ready.
Finally, everything had been planned and we were in our beds getting one last night of good sleep in anticipation of our 6AM departure when at 3AM, Ryan's friend, Steve, arrived to announce that he had decided to go after thinking about it for three months.
Was this trip going to go as planned?
Wave 2: The Wind and the Waves
I've sailed the coastal route many times and you usually get one of two different types of weather: too much or too little. Passing under the Golden Gate at the beginning of the ebb as planned, we found enough wind to justify the reef I had put in the main. The wind was driving us on a starboard broad reach with comfortable following seas.
We had planned to spend the first night at sea and the second anchored in San Simeon Bay. The conditions were perfect for a course that took us due South. Kia Orana was sailing in a groove in the mid-7 knot range.
Looking at a map of California will show that taking a due South course will eventually take you well offshore. At first it didn't matter as we were planning on spending the first night at sea anyway, but I had visions of us sailing 300 miles South and still being 200 miles from the Channel Islands if we kept going in the same direction.
Final Approach, demonstrating the value of extra waterline and sail area, had blasted by at 1400. We made radio contact, but they were soon over the horizon. By 2000, we were getting into the 12kt range while surfing down the face of the following seas, the type that will occasionally slap the side of the boat and deflect into the face of the helmsman. By midnight we were over 50 NM offshore. It was time to tack back in.
The wind continued throughout the night and put us off Pt. Sur at sunrise. We eased off a bit to take a heading directly for San Simeon. By mid-morning, we were still zipping along with less than 40 NM to San Simeon and the clear blue sky providing a panoramic view of the meeting of mountains, ocean, and sky. We could identify peaks, points, and other landmarks from the names and locations on the chart.
Piedras Blancas came into view by mid-afternoon. We could see the kiteboarders twisting and weaving as they took advantage of the wind from a nearby beach. By 1700, we had dropped the hook in San Simeon among about 6 other boats. Shortly after getting settled in, a Catalina 42 flying 2 Cal battleflags and sporting the name X-Cal-A-Bear entered the cove and anchored right next to us. Teresa, who had just emerged from below after putting on her Stanford sweatshirt to ward off the chill of the approaching evening, stood up to ask if they needed some help. There were roars of laughter at realization that the Cal-Stanford rivalry had reared its head in the tranquility of San Simeon Bay. X-Cal-A-Bear would become a familiar site in the next few days.
We feasted on a delicious dinner of BBQ shrimp, rice, salad, and garlic bread, then settled back into the cockpit cushions to watch the pelican and sealion show as they demonstrated their various fishing methods. It was truly dinner theater.
One of the few negatives on the trip was the fishing boat that pulled into the anchorage just before sunset. I can understand the need for an anchor light, but this boat chose to run their billion-candlepower light all night long. Of course it takes a running generator to power such a light.
Our chance to watch the magnificent array of stars thwarted, we went below to shield ourselves from the nuisance of the light and motor in music. I was soon asleep.
I awoke at 0500 and could still hear the hum of the motor. I wanted to sleep longer, but I was so annoyed by the motor that I couldn't doze off. I finally awoke Teresa to tell her that I'd had enough and wanted to get an early start on our trip to Morro Bay. She agreed that the noise was unbearable and got up to help. I went outside to prepare to pull up the anchor and was surprised to hear that the motor wasn't as loud outside our boat as it was inside. I went back below and heard the noise, went above and didn't. It must be coming from our boat! What is that noise?
I tracked the mystery noise down to the fresh water pump running in a vain attempt to restore system pressure from an empty tank. I switched supply valve and the noise stopped.
So we decided to have a nice breakfast before leaving. It was a calm and foggy morning, perfect whale watching conditions. Our best bet was to head offshore before going into Morro Bay. The seas were glassy as we got into the deeper water, scanning the distance for that familiar blow. Nothing!
We'd made contact with Double Play in Morro Bay, so decided to change course back toward The Rock. At 1410, we were within shouting distance of Double Play tied up at the Morro Bay Yacht Club guest dock. They were in the process of leaving to head back to Santa Cruz. We waited to take their space at the dock, directly behind X-Cal-A-Bear.
Ryan and Steve rowed the dink over to the sand spit while Teresa and I exchanged sea stories with the Cal Guys. We all got showers and, despite the neon lights tempting us to venture into town for some fish-and-chips, ate a spaghetti dinner aboard.
I checked the VHF radio weather report: "Gale warning tonight", "Winds increasing", "Locally stronger gusts".
Sunday morning we awoke to sunny and calm conditions. The forecast called for increasing winds. The Cal Guys were going. We were going.
It was another beautiful day for sailing. Plenty of wind and following seas in colors reminiscent of tropical locations. The boat was happy with a double-reefed main and reefed jib. It was fun to be driving.
Just before Pt. Conception we were still driving hard in the 7's when we noticed the first ship on the radar. They were traveling in the opposite direction and although we would come close, it was clear that we would safely pass. The second ship was more problematic. We were on a crossing course at right angles. We watched on the radar for a couple of miles and, when it was about a mile away, calculated that we would probably end up on their bow bulb.
We gybed out of the way, satisfied that we had averted disaster. Our position now put us at the same latitude as Pt. Conception. We had plenty of wind and waves, but nothing the boat and crew couldn't handle. The boat was behaving beautifully, but before too long, it was blowing 30kts...then 35kts. We furled the rest of the jib and turned a bit into the wind to avoid an accidental gybe. We were spilling wind from the double-reefed main and still screaming. The wind was starting to cause breaking waves on top of the swell. If the timing was just right, the breakers would slap the side of the boat sending a plume of water onto the helmsman. It was blowing in the 40s as we reached the dangerous reef-strewn windward shore of San Miguel Island. The wind was blowing a stinging spray off the top of the waves and into our faces. I started imagining what would happen with the wind and waves pushing us directly ashore, if the mast should break...or we should hit something and break the rudder. I started wondering what it would be like to anchor in gale-force winds, being careful to avoid kelp, after midnight. The Cal Guys had reported no wind along the coast near Santa Barbara. It was time to change plans.
We changed course for Santa Barbara. Within a surprisingly short time, we were getting into mellower conditions. Before long, the seas were calm and we had to start the motor. At 0400 we arrived to find an empty space at the Santa Barbara YC guest dock where we got some much needed sleep and a shower.
Wave 3: The Islands
We left Santa Barbara about 1400 after breakfast, saying good-bye to Steve, and topping off the fuel tanks. It was our second attempt at leaving, having run into Final Approach on our first exit a couple of hours earlier. They had suffered some damage and needed to appease the gods with some boat bucks spent at West Marine. They got a slip for the night and warned us of the dangers lurking in Windy Lane. Unwilling to spend the night in a marina after the adventure we'd experienced getting there, we opted to sail on.
We chose the familiarity of Smugglers Cove, an easy sail from Santa Barbara and a well protected anchorage in the event of more wind and swell. It's usually calmer at the East end of Santa Cruz, and we spent our first afternoon and evening enjoying the view and awing at the different varieties of fish in the clear water below. After another tasty and ample meal, we sat in the cockpit to listen to the waves crashing in the darkness of the starlit night. We were soon asleep in bed.
Beep! Beep! Beep! ...
The anchor alarm is going off. I pop my head out the hatch to see if we're dragging. I can see nothing! The fog is so thick that I can't see the bow. The only sensory help we have is from the crashing of the waves. Teresa didn't think it sounded any closer, and I realized that I didn't add the boat length into the calculation for the alarm distance. We were soon asleep again.
The morning brought overcast skies. The VHF weather report said "morning fog clearing, light afternoon winds." That's just the condition the cruising guide mentions: if there is fog in the morning, there will be light afternoon winds. These are the conditions we want when we pass back around Pt. Conception. Fog in the morning, light wind in the afternoon. "Fog is our friend" became our mantra.
Beach access is a bit tricky at Smugglers, so after a pancake breakfast, we pulled up the Bruce and headed Westward along the lee side of Santa Cruz Island. We took our time, watching for kelp and following the descriptions in the guide book as we passed each anchorage.
The water was almost flat and we could see strange sea creatures swimming madly to get out of our way. They were orange and looked like a cross between a crab and a frog. Another example of the varied and abundant sealife around the islands.
The cruising guide says that Coches Prietos translates to "black pigs" (never mind that the AltaVista translator says it means "dark cars"). We had stopped in last year, but left when we found another boat already anchored. This year, after re-reading the many references on the islands, we were resolute in our determination to spend the night in Coches Prietos, described by some as the best anchorage on the island.
Other boats be damned! We're going in!
With anxious trepidation, we rounded the last point to find Coches Prietos empty. We were the only boat. We got to pick the best spot! Ryan set the Bruce on 100 feet off the bow and, with the help of the dink, I set the Danforth on 100 feet out the stern in about 18 feet of water. They held us in the perfect bow out position.
Once the boat was safely secured I began to fully appreciate the beauty of our location. The steep hills dropped into canyons reaching out to a semi-circular white-sand beach licked by gently crashing waves of turquoise water. The pelicans awkwardly diving and sealions gracefully jumping, all in their pursuit of the countless fish visible in the clear water, provided a measure of the island's bounty.
After climbing the bluff and playing frisbee on the beach, we relaxed in the cockpit to revel in the solitary beauty. We were just finishing a lasagna dinner under the colorful sunset, when we saw a black pig come down to the beach. For about a half hour, the pig worked its way from one end of the beach to the other, foraging in the kelp that had recently washed ashore.
We all slept well, waking to overcast skies that soon gave way to glorious blue. By the time the coffee was ready, Teresa and I were sitting in the cockpit enjoying the warmth of the morning while Ryan went for a row. We could clearly see the sandy bottom below and a school of what looked like millions of fish suddenly parting to avoid the swooping dive of a hungry sealion.
After finishing my coffee, I joined Ryan in the other dink to explore the Coches Prietos shoreline before going ashore where the only other footprints belonged to the pig. As we rowed back to Kia Orana, a ketch with a young family from LA came around the point and anchored about 200 feet to our starboard.
The lure of a shower can be powerful after a couple of days anchoring in the ocean. Our answer is a Sun Shower filled with water and lashed to the deck before leaving port. Two days of sunshine had the temperature gauge reading in the high 90s. Hanging it from the halyard over the head hatch makes it ideal for showering below. Perfect!
Donning clean clothes after a shower is another pleasure while cruising, topping it all off with a BBQ chicken dinner, with stuffing and peas, completed the feeling of rejuvenation. Wine and Liars Dice while listening to the weather report..."2kt winds at Pt. Conception"...and we all got a good 8 hours of sleep.
Wave 4: The Weather Window
We've studied the coastal weather for a couple of years and are beginning to understand the patterns that can be used to predict the weather, especially around Pt. Conception. We'd had a rollicking downwind ride but were anxious to find calmer conditions for the Northbound rounding. We routinely monitored the VHF weather channel looking for the telltale signs of improvement.
We awoke on our third morning at Santa Cruz to find fog hanging over the island. It was being reported that Santa Barbara wouldn't clear until after noon. The forecast for the next couple of days was for light-to-moderate winds and little swell. Even though we had planned on spending another night or two at the islands, we decided that this was the weather window we needed for a comfortable return around Pt. Conception.
We retrieved our bow and stern anchors, free from Bay mud after 3 days in the sandy bottom, and set off for the Santa Cruz Channel and a direct line across the Santa Barbara shipping channel for the point. We had indeed been right, for the sea was glassy smooth with hardly a whisper of a breeze but the occasional patch of fog. We made good time and passed within a mile of Pt. Conception well before sunset, arriving in Morro Bay at 0300.
That afternoon, we left Morro Bay for Monterey. We had left earlier, but Ryan was concerned that the exhaust appeared much whiter than normal. I tried explaining it away as the result of the hot exhaust and cold wet air, but it wasn't working. We decided to stop at the closest dock, one clearly stating that it was private and we weren't welcome. Checking the cooling and exhaust would only take a minute and Teresa said it was an emergency, so we ignored the sign and tied up.
The first thing I checked was the raw water intake filter and sure enough, the screen was completely plugged with the grassy weed that floats on the surface of Morro Bay this time of the year. I proudly hopped onto the dock to demonstrate our good fortune as a result of my mechanical detective skills...and dropped it into the water where I watched it slowly sink out of sight.
There aren't a lot of taxis in Morro Bay. The guys at the local fish dock told me there was a marine store a few blocks away. I set off running a path made longer by my interpretation of the directions. I finally found the store where the friendly staff showed me their parts catalog (in the same format and color as West Marine) listed the entire filter without the screen as a separate part. They had the filter in stock and I walked out feeling fortunate that we were getting away for only $25 and little time wasted.
I quickly ran back to the dock where I had visions of an irate fisherman cutting Teresa and Ryan into bait, but all was well when I returned. I quickly added the screen from the new filter to the old filter, checked for leaks, and we were off. Problem solved.
We had another smooth day of motoring, getting good views of Big Sur and the famous coastal golf courses before arriving at the Monterey Peninsula Yacht Club in time for a shower and dinner at the nearby British pub. The remaining evening was spent in Kia Orana's cockpit watching the nightlife while moored within feet of the Monterey waterfront.
We were second in line at the fuel dock early Sunday morning where we listened to stories from a guy who had spent 44 years fishing in Alaska. An abundant assortment of sealife under the fuel dock, providing a view not unlike a window in the famous aquarium, supports the view that the efforts to control fuel contamination are working. After topping the tanks on this beautiful, sunny morning, we set off for Pillar Point. We should have known that without our friend, The Fog, it would be a rough ride, and indeed it was. After a couple of hours of increasing wind and waves, we decided to head into Santa Cruz for the day and improve our chances by leaving around midnight.
It was our first time in Santa Cruz harbor where we amused ourselves by sitting on Kia Orana to watch the Sunday comings and goings. Dinner, naps, and we were on out way at 2230.
Wave 5: Sea Life
I've encountered whales every time I have sailed the coastal route, and I had guaranteed Ryan that we would see some during the trip. Sure enough, at 1500 on the first day, while Ryan was driving, he reported seeing a "volcano erupting"..."WHALE!" as a massive back surfaced less than a boat length away. I was pleased that there would be no questioning my guarantee and envisioned seeing countless whales.
But even after going out to the deep water off Morro Rock, nearby whales eluded us. Several encounters with dolphins swimming in our bow wake as we sat directly overhead eased our disappointment, but we still wanted some whale sightings.
It wasn't until our return trip that our dreams would be answered. Not long after motoring past Pt. Conception in calm seas, we had an amazing whale-dolphin double-feature. The Humpbacks were thrusting their massive flippers high into the air before slapping them down on the water. We saw them breaching; throwing their massive bodies completely out of the water and crashing down with a thundering splash. The dolphins were leaping in unison in our bow wake.
An hour later, we stopped the motor when we saw another couple of whales. As we sat in the foggy silence, we could hear the sounds of whale blows coming from every direction as they surfaced to breathe. They were clearly visible within a boatlength.
Ryan laughed later, noting that we had seen so many whales and dolphins that we were no longer screaming "Whale!" whenever we saw a blow. My guarantee is always good.
Wave 6: Things That Go Bump in the Night.
One should always be on the alert for the potential of a collision, however there are some things that can't be avoided. The driver can see other objects during the day, but must rely on running lights and radar to avoid collisions at night.
And so it was early Monday morning. We had decided to change course for Santa Barbara after finding ourselves in some very nasty conditions on the windward side of San Miguel Island around midnight. We were doing 5-or-6 knots under double-reefed main when we suddenly experienced a feeling that I immediately recognized from my years of sailing South of the San Mateo Bridge. We had run our keel into a mud bar, slowly cutting our speed to zero.
But wait!
We were in over 200 feet of water. We couldn't have hit bottom. It was big enough to stop our progress and it was soft. It had to have been a whale. We all had feelings of regret at hitting one of these beautiful creatures that have given us so much pleasure by peacefully visiting us during our offshore trips, and wondered whether it would have heard us had we been running our engine.
The second bang in the night was even more surreal. It was well after midnight on our last night at sea and I was beginning to suffer from sleep deprivation. I was getting my sleep in 10 minute increments as Teresa stood watch. She had just finished plotting our position and checking the radar when I awoke to see running lights dead ahead of us. I quickly jumped up to disengage the autopilot but, being tethered in, was unable to reach the lever. In a panic, I tried releasing the snap shackle so that I could regain control of Kia Orana before we smashed into the other boat.
Teresa sat in wide-eyed amazement as I flailed around the cockpit, unsure of exactly what I was trying to do. It wasn't until I had released myself to regain control of the boat that I realized that we were about to collide with our own lights reflecting off the bow pulpit. It was enough to wake me up!
Wave 7: Return to SF Bay
The final night and following morning weren't the best conditions, but they could have been much worse. We were pounding into a 7 foot swell at 7 seconds. We'd had to reduce engine RPM to keep from crashing off the backs of the waves. If we headed off the swell, the boat would rock back and forth, sending everything not tied down flying across the cabin. But we were being blessed with light winds, and knowing that this was our last leg before turning to go under the Golden Gate Bridge was enough to make it tolerable.
I'm always hit by an immediate sense of serene satisfaction in successful completion when I pass under the Golden Gate after a long offshore trip. Home!
