Monday, September 3, 2007
Itchen Log Aug 21 - Sep 2, 07
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Day one of our three-day layover in San Francisco. Did a little boat work. Julie went to the clubhouse and used the work out room and sauna. Walked around San Francisco for four hours. Took our laundry up to a “wash and fold” place and went down to the wharf to schedule a trip to Alcatraz. We got a trip around SF on a double decker bus and breakfast as well, but we have to listen to a 90-minute time share presentation. That’s fine, they want a shot at me, OK … they’ll need to pay for my time. Back to the St. Francis Yacht Club early evening for a cocktail and to catch some one-design racing. The wind was up and the boats were sailing hard and fast.
Wednesday and Thursday, August 22-23, 2007
Lay days San Francisco. We heard from Tim. He didn’t sound to enthused though. He’d just come in off operations and he was tired. We took a walking/audio tour of Alcatraz. It was different from the tour I took 30 years ago that was led by a National Park Ranger. Received our mail, only about 12 letters (half of which were junk mail), not bad for being gone a month; I’d like to get the amount of mail reduced even more though. We were told San Francisco is the second most visited city behind Paris. I believe it! Lots of people … hardly room to walk on the sidewalk. As much as I like San Francisco and as easy as it is to walk around, we were ready to leave. We filled the port water tank and made preparations to get underway the next morning. Had Jake over for dinner.
0555 - Friday, August 24, 2007
Depart San Francisco; overcast with building seas and wind. 0645 - under the Golden Gate Bridge at dawn, through the currents and around Pt. Lobos back into the Pacific Ocean. Wind and seas from the SW … it’ll be a sloppy ride to Half Moon Bay. Only able to do 3.5 knots; wet and lumpy!
1205 – Arrive Pillar Point Marina, Half Moon Bay. Received our slip assignment over the radio (no reciprocals), but pulled into the fuel-up, first. California has a number of marinas that are run by local authorities; city or county governments (including Eureka, Bodega Bay and this one). They are staffed/open 24/7, full service (fuel, showers, laundry and electricity), the employees are uniformed and the transient slip prices are very reasonable (usually somewhere in the mid $20.00 range). So far, our most expensive slip has been in Seattle ($43 at Shilshole) and Port Townsend ($33.00) … go figure. While waiting at the fuel dock to refuel (the attendant was at lunch) a fellow in 47’ Sweden sailboat pulled in. He was working his way North after just coming back from sailing around the South Pacific for three years. He had his boat shipped back from Australia to Ensenada, MX (for $32K). I think he probably could have sold the boat in Australia and bought another here for less than the what he spent to transport it, but he must be doing something right if he can afford it. He was single-handing and his boat was set up very nicely, if not simply. He had SSB and an Iridium phone on board. He used the phone to call his wife, nightly, (ching-ching) while he was cruising (she stayed home).
We found our slip and Julie immediately found a fisherman that was willing to part with a freshly caught Rockfish. We shared the Rockfish with Jake and had a pretty fancy dinner with them (their boat – the Hunter 45 Legend - is an absolute palace inside)! Cok Cabuk (Turkish for “c’mon, let’s get going”) caught up with us. Turns out his water problem was the bilge pump flooding. His bilge hose comes out the bottom of his transom. As he motors, like most sailboats, the transom sinks into the water (from the thrust of the engine). As you’ve read, most of our seas have been following seas from the NW. He didn’t have a flapper valve or a loop in his bilge line, so the following seas and below water bilge outlet caused a siphon effect. He filled with water pretty quickly and the bilge pump was overcome. Once he reduced his engine speed, the transom rose out of the water and, viola, the siphon is broken and bilge pumps works properly. He put a flapper valve in and plans to add a loop in his hose; he’s doing great now, but looking for crew. Julie took him up the local café with wi-fi access and helped him find a crewmember. He was able to contact a retired guy, able to go at a moments notice, and will pick him up in Monterey.
I walked 5 miles into town, with a propane bottle on my back. It should’ve been only three, but I took a short-cut. I didn’t need the propane, but I did need the walk and figured I might as well get the bottle carrying experience now. I was told that the only place to get propane bottles refilled was at the Chevron station in town (Moss Creek, I think). We (my bride and I) started walking up this long, straight, lonely (airport) road that appears to be going nowhere. About 25 paces up the road, my bride decides she needs to return to the boat to get dinner ready (ha!); I, however, persevere. Maybe 30 minutes up this road to nowhere, I see a Chevron sign. Between me and thee though, is an airfield … a small one, but an airfield none-the-less, with a high chain link fence around it. At first, I decided to not be tempted into foolishness by this siren … I can walk around. I walk a little further and unable to ignore the Chevron siren (sluts) call, I begin to investigate the fence for weakness, holes, any small gap I can squeeze through or hop over. Nothing … no weakness can I find. The fence surrounding Fort Knox is not in as good shape as the fence surrounding this unmanned, half-baked airfield in Half Moon Bay. In addition, this chain link fence has no top bar, leaving the jagged links exposed. I’ll digress for a minute to share with you one of the traumas of my childhood. I was a handsome toddler at one of my older brothers’ (who was supposed to watching me) football games. Nearby, was one of these no-top-bar-chain-link-fence’s … probably about six feet high (the same as the airfield). Unsupervised, I managed to climb it. I nearly got to the top before I slipped. The only thing that prevented me from crashing to the ground was both of my wrists becoming impaled on the jagged chain-links like … like … a crucifixion. Some kind Samaritan lifted me from this stainless steel crucifix and I was carted away for stitches. Anyway, you get the picture of what’s going through my head as I face off with this airfield fence. I spot a crate next to the fence, hop on it, but it’s still going to take a good deal of balance, a little gymnastics and some luck to negotiate this puppy. Up I go, carefully … on the top … OK … damn! I gotta jump/fall the six feet on the other side, with a 10 pound aluminum tank strapped to my back; too late now. Over I go, falling, tumbling, spilling, mercifully, crashing to the earth below. No impalements though. No one witnessed this mysterious stranger with a tank strapped to his back jumping the airfield fence, so my freedom remained intact; now the airfield. I start to hustle through the ditches, weeds and freshly plowed earth for the tarmac (just in front of the FCC and a federal prison term). Just as I hit the tarmac, I hear the overhead buzz of a Cessna, naturally. I looked up and don’t see anything (what … I’m gonna wait at the edge of the tarmac, like a kid at a school bus crossing) and hustle across the airstrip. The Chevron station is very close now (and I’ve saved myself probably an hours walk) but something isn’t right. As I get closer, I notice the Chevron station is really a restaurant and a tank of AVGAS separated by, of course, another chain link fence. Yup … I said it (the mother of all swear words); I didn’t just say it just once either; and, I didn’t say it quietly. Tantrum quelled, I resumed my trek (now on Hwy 101) into town. I get the propane – load it my backpack – and head back down Airport road, which, not so coincidently, happened to begin at the marina and end at the propane filling Chevron station. Itchen’s enuresis continues; the transmission, packing gland and v-berth.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Lay day in Half Moon Bay. We resealed the toe rail bolts – those we could get loose. Julie finished sewing a sunbrella windlass cover. Went up to the local stores and found some good smoked salmon and a minimalist grocery store. The harbormaster advised us to take the 100-fathom line to Santa Cruz and visit Capitola. Cok Cabuk is headed straight for Monterey, where he’ll pick up new crew. Julie found another fisherman, so we had more fresh Rockfish (grilled this time); over to Jake for an episode of Soprano’s and lots of snacks.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
0600 – Depart Half Moon Bay for Santa Cruz – skies overcast, calm seas. 0700 – Cok Cabuk called on the VHF – he had left the harbor 30 minutes after us and wished us well. Cok Cabuk is a 38’ Wauquiz (pronounced Va-qey). Her skipper is a retired Naval Officer and retired from another career as a communication executive. Cok Cabuk is the boat that had the death, near sinking and the challenge with crew. I’m glad she’s sticking with us. She’s a good boat and her skipper’s a great guy.
1500- Arrive Santa Cruz, but decide to moor at Capitola. Employees from Capitola Marina are there to help us hook the mooring buoy. $25 bucks for the buoy and no reciprocals; they had dingy service, but wanted three bucks a head for the ride. Jake inflated his dingy, picked us up and we motored into the pier. Capitola is a sucky little town that has nothing but artsy-fartsy shops and wanna-be Caribbean restaurants; crowded too. We had an early dinner and everyone else went back to the boat, while I hiked into town. Didn’t really find anything. Jake picked me up at the dock and took me back to the boat.
Monday, August 27, 2007
0800 – Depart Capitola; skies overcast, seas calm, no wind; short trip to Monterey but came across some huge swells over the Monterey Canyon.
1200 – Arrive Monterey Bay and tie off at the city docks; $25/night and no reciprocals; free electricity, great showers and laundry facilities though. All leaks are still present and accounted for. Cok Cabuk hooked up with his new crew. We went into town for provisions and found a thrift store and walked around Cannery Row; to Jake for another episode of Soprano’s.
Tuesday, Wednesday August 28-29, 2007
Lay Days in Monterey. Moved to the Monterey yacht club, rafted off Jake; able to use reciprocals. The transmission leak is gone. I removed more fluid from the transmission and got it down to the right level and made a readable dipstick from a long white handled plastic serving spoon. Then I discovered the bolt holding the primary fuel filter canister was leaking. I tighten it, pushed the packing gland down further on the shaft and resealed three bolts on the toe rail with life caulk. Jake hitched us a ride from a liveaboard (Jim) to Costco, Target and the grocery store. Jake was previously tied up next to Jim, who had a Hunter 45. In fact, Jim is hull number 78 and Jake is #79. We walked up to the Farmers Market and I walked down to West Marine. Later we borrowed Jake’s folding bikes and rode all over. These might be a worthwhile investment; we’ll look into getting a couple. Filled the water tanks and plan San Simeon tomorrow, where we’ll anchor out.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
0600 – Depart Monterey; patchy fog and calm seas. Fog thickened and continued until mid-afternoon. NW swells 1-3 feet and NW wind light and variable. 0800 – a pod of dolphins started to escort the boat. Probably 15 or so all around the boat surfacing briefly for air and darting beneath the water and around the boat; they cruised with us for about 5 minutes and then went on to take care of other business. The day before we had heard about a shark attack on a surfer off Monterey. While in West Marine, I overheard one of the first responders talking about it; he said the shark attacked the surfer, left, and then returned to attack him again. The second attack was stopped by a pod of dolphins that attacked the shark. I wondered if it was the same pod, ensuring us safe passage. 1100 – A little land bird flew … well, crashed into the cockpit. He looked like a Meadow Lark, smaller and darker though, but with that same bright yellow breast (for some reason, it made me think of Lark Bunting; what a dumb name for a bird … it sounds more like a sub-division of an upscale neighborhood, than a bird). He hit the dodger (from the back) bounced off, landed on the aft lazaret, hopped onto the windvane lines and finally made a final hop to the dock lines coiled on the pushpit (aft rails). He stood there for a few seconds getting his bearings, fluffed up his feathers and promptly tucked his head under his wing and went to sleep. He was out! After a short nap he woke up and spun around and looked directly at me as if to say “what … who are you!?” Uncomfortable with my proximity to him, he hopped under the dodger. That had him befuddled; he could see out through the vinyl windows but couldn’t fly out. He kept looking up, but just couldn’t figure it out. Too tired to worry about it he rested a bit longer, keeping a wary eye on me. He finally flew out and up on top of the furled mainsail. I lost track of him there, but I hope he made it back to land; we were about 7 miles offshore. 1200- The container ship Jarvis Bay radioed the CG for assistance. The Jarvis Bay had two pleasure craft that were blocking his way. As he advanced on his course, the two small boats would maneuver into his path. Visibility was very poor with maybe only 50 yards visibility at times. Apparently, he could see them though. He was about 2nm off my starboard beam. This went on for some time. He slowed, circled, and finally reported he was almost at a dead stop. The CG requested the Jarvis Bay go 50nm offshore; the Jarvis Bay reported he would comply, but the pleasure craft kept blocking him. Finally, the CG reported they were sending two boats out to investigate, at which point the Jarvis Bay reported he had cleared the pleasure craft and was on course again. I can’t figure out why he didn’t run over them, or how he got the ship stopped in what seemed to be a fairly short distance. 1300 – Jake called and asked me about the thunderstorms. I didn’t have any. He said there was a mariners warning and he had already dodged two. We were about 5 nm abeam of each other and I had no change in my weather or seas; nothing came up on the radar and I did not hear the mariners report on the VHF. About 15 minutes later I noticed this huge (mile wide and a little bit longer) irregular mass come up on my radar screen. I watched the screen as the blob moved around in front of us, never closer than two miles, and then onto the East off my screen. I guess it was a thunderstorm, but nothing changed for us weather-wise and the fog remained. 1700 – skies cleared and winds rising so I hoisted the jib; we got a little boost for about an hour-and-a-half; surfed a couple of waves at 10.5 knots. 1900 – Rounded Point Piedras Blancas (http://www.lighthousefriends.com/light.asp?ID=89) … white rocks. This and a couple of other rocks coming down the coast; Reading Rock (south of Crescent City) and Point San Pedro (south of San Francisco) are these magnificent obelisks that jut out of the sea, all by themselves. They just sit there, as they have for millions of years, serving as nothing more than a place for birds to land. The only thing I could think of was the amount of bird guano on them … millions of years of bird-shit! I just can’t fathom that … millions of years. Maybe they aren’t rocks at all; maybe they’re just huge piles of bird doo … millions of years … !?
2000 – anchored in San Simeon; skies clear but fog rolling in; seas calm. Dropped the hook with four other boats around us; nice, snug, protected, secure anchorage. The tippy-top of Hearst Castle is just barley visible. No fuel or transmission leaks, hooray!!! Dripless still dripping, and the jury is still out on the foredeck leaks.
Friday, August 31, 2007
0825 – Weigh anchor and depart San Simeon; dense fog; calm seas. Jake having mysterious engine, electrical and cooling problems, so we decided to go to Morro Bay for repairs. At one point, he needed to shut down and requested I standby. I asked him for his coordinates, but the ones he gave didn’t make sense. The coordinates had him way in front of me and he wasn’t on my radar. His alternator was overcharging; after disconnecting it, he was able to restart the engine and we motored into Morro Bay (turned the regulator on the solar panels had malfunctioned and just needed to be reset). We continued chatting on the VHF, but I was never able to find him. The last position he gave me, when plotted into my chart plotter, had him midway down the Morro Bay spit, well past the entrance. During the final hour motoring into Morro Bay I almost ran over a CG cutter. He came out of the fog, 50 yards in front of me and I think he was as surprised to see me as I him. I quickly altered course to port, he hesitated and then goosed the cutter and disappeared into the fog as quickly as he had come out of it. In the meantime, a Samaritan powerboat found Jake and escorted him all the way into Morro Bay. No communication was exchanged; he just sat off Jake’s port quarter like a guardian angel. As we were entering Morro Bay, I heard the CG cutter we had encountered request of the Morro Bay CG station, berthing, so that they could affect repairs. Strange morning out there … 1130 – enter Morro Bay. We passed the Morro Rock and the fog cleared. Went to the fuel dock, but they were closed for lunch.
1200 – Tie up at Morro Bay Yacht Club; actually, raft off another boat; $20/night with electricity, showers and laundry. Cok Cabuk is here; along with Meridian (48’ Tayana); Cut and Run (Hunter 37’ cutter); Pepe ( a 38’ Morgan) whose owners’ brother was one of the Time-Share salesmen that presented to us in San Francisco; and Moana (a 32’ Downeaster) who had just made a 41 day passage from the Marquesas after spending three years in the South Pacific. Jake, Meridian, Cok Cabuk and Itchen are all doing the Baja. In no time, we had gathered on the boat tops swapping stories and drinking beer. This evening the Yacht Club has invited us up for hors d’oeuvre’s and drinks. Cok Cabuk has lost the latest crew-member (the one that joined him in Monterey); weather has postponed their sailing and the crew needed to get back to his family.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Lay day in Morro Bay. We played musical boats last evening as Jake, Cok Cabuk and Itchen planned to go to Point San Luis today. The 1430 weather report was very favorable, but the 0300 synopsis reported heavy seas and small craft warnings. Cok Cabuk found another crew-member so he’s ready to go. We wandered into town more for the walk than supplies. Organized a pot-luck for this evening and all boats participated. We called it the Baja he-he or the Beje. Went to Jake for the Soprano’s. Maybe we can shove off tomorrow.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Decided to stay. Weather not cooperating and we were advised Point San Luis is not the ideal place to spend a couple days on the hook. Next weather window around Point Conception is Thursday. Looks like the entire fleet will go to Point San Luis Wednesday for the jump on Point Conception Thursday. After that it looks like Jake and Meridian may spend some time in the Channel Islands; Cok Cabuk will head straight for San Diego; Cut and Run will head to Ventura harbor: Pepe ?; and, Itchen will head for San Diego via the Southern California coast. We’ll all met up again at the end of October for the Baja.
Day one of our three-day layover in San Francisco. Did a little boat work. Julie went to the clubhouse and used the work out room and sauna. Walked around San Francisco for four hours. Took our laundry up to a “wash and fold” place and went down to the wharf to schedule a trip to Alcatraz. We got a trip around SF on a double decker bus and breakfast as well, but we have to listen to a 90-minute time share presentation. That’s fine, they want a shot at me, OK … they’ll need to pay for my time. Back to the St. Francis Yacht Club early evening for a cocktail and to catch some one-design racing. The wind was up and the boats were sailing hard and fast.
Wednesday and Thursday, August 22-23, 2007
Lay days San Francisco. We heard from Tim. He didn’t sound to enthused though. He’d just come in off operations and he was tired. We took a walking/audio tour of Alcatraz. It was different from the tour I took 30 years ago that was led by a National Park Ranger. Received our mail, only about 12 letters (half of which were junk mail), not bad for being gone a month; I’d like to get the amount of mail reduced even more though. We were told San Francisco is the second most visited city behind Paris. I believe it! Lots of people … hardly room to walk on the sidewalk. As much as I like San Francisco and as easy as it is to walk around, we were ready to leave. We filled the port water tank and made preparations to get underway the next morning. Had Jake over for dinner.
0555 - Friday, August 24, 2007
Depart San Francisco; overcast with building seas and wind. 0645 - under the Golden Gate Bridge at dawn, through the currents and around Pt. Lobos back into the Pacific Ocean. Wind and seas from the SW … it’ll be a sloppy ride to Half Moon Bay. Only able to do 3.5 knots; wet and lumpy!
1205 – Arrive Pillar Point Marina, Half Moon Bay. Received our slip assignment over the radio (no reciprocals), but pulled into the fuel-up, first. California has a number of marinas that are run by local authorities; city or county governments (including Eureka, Bodega Bay and this one). They are staffed/open 24/7, full service (fuel, showers, laundry and electricity), the employees are uniformed and the transient slip prices are very reasonable (usually somewhere in the mid $20.00 range). So far, our most expensive slip has been in Seattle ($43 at Shilshole) and Port Townsend ($33.00) … go figure. While waiting at the fuel dock to refuel (the attendant was at lunch) a fellow in 47’ Sweden sailboat pulled in. He was working his way North after just coming back from sailing around the South Pacific for three years. He had his boat shipped back from Australia to Ensenada, MX (for $32K). I think he probably could have sold the boat in Australia and bought another here for less than the what he spent to transport it, but he must be doing something right if he can afford it. He was single-handing and his boat was set up very nicely, if not simply. He had SSB and an Iridium phone on board. He used the phone to call his wife, nightly, (ching-ching) while he was cruising (she stayed home).
We found our slip and Julie immediately found a fisherman that was willing to part with a freshly caught Rockfish. We shared the Rockfish with Jake and had a pretty fancy dinner with them (their boat – the Hunter 45 Legend - is an absolute palace inside)! Cok Cabuk (Turkish for “c’mon, let’s get going”) caught up with us. Turns out his water problem was the bilge pump flooding. His bilge hose comes out the bottom of his transom. As he motors, like most sailboats, the transom sinks into the water (from the thrust of the engine). As you’ve read, most of our seas have been following seas from the NW. He didn’t have a flapper valve or a loop in his bilge line, so the following seas and below water bilge outlet caused a siphon effect. He filled with water pretty quickly and the bilge pump was overcome. Once he reduced his engine speed, the transom rose out of the water and, viola, the siphon is broken and bilge pumps works properly. He put a flapper valve in and plans to add a loop in his hose; he’s doing great now, but looking for crew. Julie took him up the local café with wi-fi access and helped him find a crewmember. He was able to contact a retired guy, able to go at a moments notice, and will pick him up in Monterey.
I walked 5 miles into town, with a propane bottle on my back. It should’ve been only three, but I took a short-cut. I didn’t need the propane, but I did need the walk and figured I might as well get the bottle carrying experience now. I was told that the only place to get propane bottles refilled was at the Chevron station in town (Moss Creek, I think). We (my bride and I) started walking up this long, straight, lonely (airport) road that appears to be going nowhere. About 25 paces up the road, my bride decides she needs to return to the boat to get dinner ready (ha!); I, however, persevere. Maybe 30 minutes up this road to nowhere, I see a Chevron sign. Between me and thee though, is an airfield … a small one, but an airfield none-the-less, with a high chain link fence around it. At first, I decided to not be tempted into foolishness by this siren … I can walk around. I walk a little further and unable to ignore the Chevron siren (sluts) call, I begin to investigate the fence for weakness, holes, any small gap I can squeeze through or hop over. Nothing … no weakness can I find. The fence surrounding Fort Knox is not in as good shape as the fence surrounding this unmanned, half-baked airfield in Half Moon Bay. In addition, this chain link fence has no top bar, leaving the jagged links exposed. I’ll digress for a minute to share with you one of the traumas of my childhood. I was a handsome toddler at one of my older brothers’ (who was supposed to watching me) football games. Nearby, was one of these no-top-bar-chain-link-fence’s … probably about six feet high (the same as the airfield). Unsupervised, I managed to climb it. I nearly got to the top before I slipped. The only thing that prevented me from crashing to the ground was both of my wrists becoming impaled on the jagged chain-links like … like … a crucifixion. Some kind Samaritan lifted me from this stainless steel crucifix and I was carted away for stitches. Anyway, you get the picture of what’s going through my head as I face off with this airfield fence. I spot a crate next to the fence, hop on it, but it’s still going to take a good deal of balance, a little gymnastics and some luck to negotiate this puppy. Up I go, carefully … on the top … OK … damn! I gotta jump/fall the six feet on the other side, with a 10 pound aluminum tank strapped to my back; too late now. Over I go, falling, tumbling, spilling, mercifully, crashing to the earth below. No impalements though. No one witnessed this mysterious stranger with a tank strapped to his back jumping the airfield fence, so my freedom remained intact; now the airfield. I start to hustle through the ditches, weeds and freshly plowed earth for the tarmac (just in front of the FCC and a federal prison term). Just as I hit the tarmac, I hear the overhead buzz of a Cessna, naturally. I looked up and don’t see anything (what … I’m gonna wait at the edge of the tarmac, like a kid at a school bus crossing) and hustle across the airstrip. The Chevron station is very close now (and I’ve saved myself probably an hours walk) but something isn’t right. As I get closer, I notice the Chevron station is really a restaurant and a tank of AVGAS separated by, of course, another chain link fence. Yup … I said it (the mother of all swear words); I didn’t just say it just once either; and, I didn’t say it quietly. Tantrum quelled, I resumed my trek (now on Hwy 101) into town. I get the propane – load it my backpack – and head back down Airport road, which, not so coincidently, happened to begin at the marina and end at the propane filling Chevron station. Itchen’s enuresis continues; the transmission, packing gland and v-berth.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Lay day in Half Moon Bay. We resealed the toe rail bolts – those we could get loose. Julie finished sewing a sunbrella windlass cover. Went up to the local stores and found some good smoked salmon and a minimalist grocery store. The harbormaster advised us to take the 100-fathom line to Santa Cruz and visit Capitola. Cok Cabuk is headed straight for Monterey, where he’ll pick up new crew. Julie found another fisherman, so we had more fresh Rockfish (grilled this time); over to Jake for an episode of Soprano’s and lots of snacks.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
0600 – Depart Half Moon Bay for Santa Cruz – skies overcast, calm seas. 0700 – Cok Cabuk called on the VHF – he had left the harbor 30 minutes after us and wished us well. Cok Cabuk is a 38’ Wauquiz (pronounced Va-qey). Her skipper is a retired Naval Officer and retired from another career as a communication executive. Cok Cabuk is the boat that had the death, near sinking and the challenge with crew. I’m glad she’s sticking with us. She’s a good boat and her skipper’s a great guy.
1500- Arrive Santa Cruz, but decide to moor at Capitola. Employees from Capitola Marina are there to help us hook the mooring buoy. $25 bucks for the buoy and no reciprocals; they had dingy service, but wanted three bucks a head for the ride. Jake inflated his dingy, picked us up and we motored into the pier. Capitola is a sucky little town that has nothing but artsy-fartsy shops and wanna-be Caribbean restaurants; crowded too. We had an early dinner and everyone else went back to the boat, while I hiked into town. Didn’t really find anything. Jake picked me up at the dock and took me back to the boat.
Monday, August 27, 2007
0800 – Depart Capitola; skies overcast, seas calm, no wind; short trip to Monterey but came across some huge swells over the Monterey Canyon.
1200 – Arrive Monterey Bay and tie off at the city docks; $25/night and no reciprocals; free electricity, great showers and laundry facilities though. All leaks are still present and accounted for. Cok Cabuk hooked up with his new crew. We went into town for provisions and found a thrift store and walked around Cannery Row; to Jake for another episode of Soprano’s.
Tuesday, Wednesday August 28-29, 2007
Lay Days in Monterey. Moved to the Monterey yacht club, rafted off Jake; able to use reciprocals. The transmission leak is gone. I removed more fluid from the transmission and got it down to the right level and made a readable dipstick from a long white handled plastic serving spoon. Then I discovered the bolt holding the primary fuel filter canister was leaking. I tighten it, pushed the packing gland down further on the shaft and resealed three bolts on the toe rail with life caulk. Jake hitched us a ride from a liveaboard (Jim) to Costco, Target and the grocery store. Jake was previously tied up next to Jim, who had a Hunter 45. In fact, Jim is hull number 78 and Jake is #79. We walked up to the Farmers Market and I walked down to West Marine. Later we borrowed Jake’s folding bikes and rode all over. These might be a worthwhile investment; we’ll look into getting a couple. Filled the water tanks and plan San Simeon tomorrow, where we’ll anchor out.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
0600 – Depart Monterey; patchy fog and calm seas. Fog thickened and continued until mid-afternoon. NW swells 1-3 feet and NW wind light and variable. 0800 – a pod of dolphins started to escort the boat. Probably 15 or so all around the boat surfacing briefly for air and darting beneath the water and around the boat; they cruised with us for about 5 minutes and then went on to take care of other business. The day before we had heard about a shark attack on a surfer off Monterey. While in West Marine, I overheard one of the first responders talking about it; he said the shark attacked the surfer, left, and then returned to attack him again. The second attack was stopped by a pod of dolphins that attacked the shark. I wondered if it was the same pod, ensuring us safe passage. 1100 – A little land bird flew … well, crashed into the cockpit. He looked like a Meadow Lark, smaller and darker though, but with that same bright yellow breast (for some reason, it made me think of Lark Bunting; what a dumb name for a bird … it sounds more like a sub-division of an upscale neighborhood, than a bird). He hit the dodger (from the back) bounced off, landed on the aft lazaret, hopped onto the windvane lines and finally made a final hop to the dock lines coiled on the pushpit (aft rails). He stood there for a few seconds getting his bearings, fluffed up his feathers and promptly tucked his head under his wing and went to sleep. He was out! After a short nap he woke up and spun around and looked directly at me as if to say “what … who are you!?” Uncomfortable with my proximity to him, he hopped under the dodger. That had him befuddled; he could see out through the vinyl windows but couldn’t fly out. He kept looking up, but just couldn’t figure it out. Too tired to worry about it he rested a bit longer, keeping a wary eye on me. He finally flew out and up on top of the furled mainsail. I lost track of him there, but I hope he made it back to land; we were about 7 miles offshore. 1200- The container ship Jarvis Bay radioed the CG for assistance. The Jarvis Bay had two pleasure craft that were blocking his way. As he advanced on his course, the two small boats would maneuver into his path. Visibility was very poor with maybe only 50 yards visibility at times. Apparently, he could see them though. He was about 2nm off my starboard beam. This went on for some time. He slowed, circled, and finally reported he was almost at a dead stop. The CG requested the Jarvis Bay go 50nm offshore; the Jarvis Bay reported he would comply, but the pleasure craft kept blocking him. Finally, the CG reported they were sending two boats out to investigate, at which point the Jarvis Bay reported he had cleared the pleasure craft and was on course again. I can’t figure out why he didn’t run over them, or how he got the ship stopped in what seemed to be a fairly short distance. 1300 – Jake called and asked me about the thunderstorms. I didn’t have any. He said there was a mariners warning and he had already dodged two. We were about 5 nm abeam of each other and I had no change in my weather or seas; nothing came up on the radar and I did not hear the mariners report on the VHF. About 15 minutes later I noticed this huge (mile wide and a little bit longer) irregular mass come up on my radar screen. I watched the screen as the blob moved around in front of us, never closer than two miles, and then onto the East off my screen. I guess it was a thunderstorm, but nothing changed for us weather-wise and the fog remained. 1700 – skies cleared and winds rising so I hoisted the jib; we got a little boost for about an hour-and-a-half; surfed a couple of waves at 10.5 knots. 1900 – Rounded Point Piedras Blancas (http://www.lighthousefriends.com/light.asp?ID=89) … white rocks. This and a couple of other rocks coming down the coast; Reading Rock (south of Crescent City) and Point San Pedro (south of San Francisco) are these magnificent obelisks that jut out of the sea, all by themselves. They just sit there, as they have for millions of years, serving as nothing more than a place for birds to land. The only thing I could think of was the amount of bird guano on them … millions of years of bird-shit! I just can’t fathom that … millions of years. Maybe they aren’t rocks at all; maybe they’re just huge piles of bird doo … millions of years … !?
2000 – anchored in San Simeon; skies clear but fog rolling in; seas calm. Dropped the hook with four other boats around us; nice, snug, protected, secure anchorage. The tippy-top of Hearst Castle is just barley visible. No fuel or transmission leaks, hooray!!! Dripless still dripping, and the jury is still out on the foredeck leaks.
Friday, August 31, 2007
0825 – Weigh anchor and depart San Simeon; dense fog; calm seas. Jake having mysterious engine, electrical and cooling problems, so we decided to go to Morro Bay for repairs. At one point, he needed to shut down and requested I standby. I asked him for his coordinates, but the ones he gave didn’t make sense. The coordinates had him way in front of me and he wasn’t on my radar. His alternator was overcharging; after disconnecting it, he was able to restart the engine and we motored into Morro Bay (turned the regulator on the solar panels had malfunctioned and just needed to be reset). We continued chatting on the VHF, but I was never able to find him. The last position he gave me, when plotted into my chart plotter, had him midway down the Morro Bay spit, well past the entrance. During the final hour motoring into Morro Bay I almost ran over a CG cutter. He came out of the fog, 50 yards in front of me and I think he was as surprised to see me as I him. I quickly altered course to port, he hesitated and then goosed the cutter and disappeared into the fog as quickly as he had come out of it. In the meantime, a Samaritan powerboat found Jake and escorted him all the way into Morro Bay. No communication was exchanged; he just sat off Jake’s port quarter like a guardian angel. As we were entering Morro Bay, I heard the CG cutter we had encountered request of the Morro Bay CG station, berthing, so that they could affect repairs. Strange morning out there … 1130 – enter Morro Bay. We passed the Morro Rock and the fog cleared. Went to the fuel dock, but they were closed for lunch.
1200 – Tie up at Morro Bay Yacht Club; actually, raft off another boat; $20/night with electricity, showers and laundry. Cok Cabuk is here; along with Meridian (48’ Tayana); Cut and Run (Hunter 37’ cutter); Pepe ( a 38’ Morgan) whose owners’ brother was one of the Time-Share salesmen that presented to us in San Francisco; and Moana (a 32’ Downeaster) who had just made a 41 day passage from the Marquesas after spending three years in the South Pacific. Jake, Meridian, Cok Cabuk and Itchen are all doing the Baja. In no time, we had gathered on the boat tops swapping stories and drinking beer. This evening the Yacht Club has invited us up for hors d’oeuvre’s and drinks. Cok Cabuk has lost the latest crew-member (the one that joined him in Monterey); weather has postponed their sailing and the crew needed to get back to his family.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Lay day in Morro Bay. We played musical boats last evening as Jake, Cok Cabuk and Itchen planned to go to Point San Luis today. The 1430 weather report was very favorable, but the 0300 synopsis reported heavy seas and small craft warnings. Cok Cabuk found another crew-member so he’s ready to go. We wandered into town more for the walk than supplies. Organized a pot-luck for this evening and all boats participated. We called it the Baja he-he or the Beje. Went to Jake for the Soprano’s. Maybe we can shove off tomorrow.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Decided to stay. Weather not cooperating and we were advised Point San Luis is not the ideal place to spend a couple days on the hook. Next weather window around Point Conception is Thursday. Looks like the entire fleet will go to Point San Luis Wednesday for the jump on Point Conception Thursday. After that it looks like Jake and Meridian may spend some time in the Channel Islands; Cok Cabuk will head straight for San Diego; Cut and Run will head to Ventura harbor: Pepe ?; and, Itchen will head for San Diego via the Southern California coast. We’ll all met up again at the end of October for the Baja.
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