Morro Bay around Point Conception to Oxnard – Leg Three
Leg 3 was to take Bluewater from Morro Bay (where it had
been since the previous weekend) around Point Conception to the Channel Islands
Harbor Marina, located in Oxnard. This leg actually began on Friday with Mark,
Angi, Lawrence and me driving from the Bay Area back down to Morro Bay.
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| Lawrence, beanbag chair and Angi |
Before we had last left Morro Bay, Dana, a friend of
Kevin’s, mentioned how he had brought a beanbag chair on a boat trip to Mexico.
That somehow was translated into, “you must bring a beanbag chair” on the
Ha-Ha. Knowing a beanbag chair had been secured and needed to be transported to
the boat in Morro Bay, I called shotgun leaving Angi and Lawrence sharing the
back seat of a Toyota Corolla with a purple naugahyde beanbag chair.
We were greeted in Morro Bay by Kevin who would be our fifth
crew member on this leg, and as mentioned elsewhere, would be staying with
Bluewater from that point forward until the conclusion of the Ha-Ha and she was
safely left in Mexico.
With our gear, new provisions and a headless Barney on
board, four of us ventured off in search of dinner.
Over the course of dinner, Lawrence and Angi (and to a
lesser degree myself) engaged in an entertaining political debate. I learned a
valuable lesson from Mark that night. He told me that sometimes the winner of a
political discussion is the person who stays out of it. By that measure, Mark
clearly was the winner for the evening.
Three-thirty in the morning came much too soon. Mark checked
the weather report for around Point Conception for the umpteenth time and
declared that if we made the time he planned, which targeted us for rounding
the Point by noon, we’d miss any chances for high winds and big seas.
So, we pushed off into thick fog/drizzle and blackness of
morning. The newly installed radar paid off again as Mark negotiated leaving
Morro Bay and its narrow jetty. No sooner had we cleared the protection of the
breakwaters, the seas turned unstable. We ran over a huge “patty” of kelp that
wrapped itself around the starboard engine and rudder. Mark tried to vary the
speed of the engine and even attempted to go in reverse to dislodge it.
Kevin went to work using his gaff hook and finally resorting
to pulling the hundred-foot sea plant up though the motor housing with Mark and
me attempting to help. Once free of the brown monster, Mark reengaged the motor
and we continued making forward progress.
In the few minutes I had my head down trying to help Kevin
and Mark with the seaweed, I got “hit.” The combination of not being able to
see more than a few feet in any direction coupled with a swirling sea and a
boat deck that won’t hold still caused me to loose my bearings and within a few
moments the little coffee I just drank and the previous night’s dinner.
There’s a saying that claims misery loves company. I can
tell you that when you’re seasick in the midst of a multiple day journey, you
don’t want a lot of company and you certainly don’t wish anyone to be
experiencing the same pain you are. I wasn’t having one of my more pleasant
times on Bluewater. My fellow crewmates and skipper were empathetic, but
there’s only so much that one can do. It would just have run its course or wait
until we made it to land. (I was hopeful it would be the former rather than the
latter.)
Although I spend most of the day above deck, it’s a little
fuzzy how the day progressed. As far as I can recall, we never attempted to
raise the main sail until we rounded Point Conception and motored steadily south
along the coast. We did unfurl the jib to motor-sail and increase our boat
speed. I also remember taking the screecher to the foredeck and having Kevin
help hoist it.
At some point mid-morning, Lawrence cooked pancakes. A large
pod of dolphins was sighted in the distance north and to our port side. I was
only visible with any clarity though binoculars.
I suppose everyone has his or her own way of passing the
time. Angi kept below deck in her bunk and seemed to be sleeping like a
teenager. The reality, I believe, is she too was dealing with a little bit of
queasiness and felt better staying horizontal rather than vertical.
Mark would intermittently take bearings, recheck his
calculations and ensure I was doing fine (I needed to stay hydrated) and napped.
Kevin, a person who had spent a number of years in boats
fishing and cruising the coastline, ironically had never spent any time
sailing. I overheard Lawrence educating him about sailing terms (sheets, lines,
halyards, etc.). Kevin cast a ‘cedar plug’ lure in the (perhaps not too high)
hopes of catching something, while we meandered down the central coast.
Lawrence, who embodies
boundless energy or is crashing from exhaustion, was ablaze attending to
various tasks about the boat. He installed new sheet bags in the cockpit and
applied decals of the boat’s name (Bluewater) and port of registration (Santa
Cruz) to the rear of the boat. (Having the boat’s name is a Coast Guard
requirement and was the last of the “must have before leaving San Diego” tasks.)
It seemed to take
longer to get from Morro Bay to Point Conception than Mark had planned. The
original plan was to get to this waypoint by noon before any high winds were
encountered. We did reach Point Conception around 5:00 in the evening. By the
time we arrived, the clouds had lifted allowing the sun to cast a perfect glow
on the bluffs.
The winds had also picked up to the point where with us entering
darkness, it was best to reef the sails. (Kevin quoted back to us the adage he
had already learned, “if you think it’s time to reef, it’s time to reef.”)
I know I was feeling
better, because I was at the helm sipping Ramin noodles Lawrence had made for
us … and was able to keep them down.
Night and darkness was
approaching. Mark wanted to establish a night watch schedule. He was sensitive
about asking me to signup for a shift. I said I was willing but didn’t want to
alone. We settled upon Kevin, Angi and me taking the first watch, followed by
Mark and finally Lawrence (trooper) taking the wee-morning/daybreak shift.
During our watch, we
continued under sail performing a few gybes chasing the wind and avoiding oil
platforms along the Santa Barbra channel. When our boat speed dropped below 4
knots, we dropped the main sail, lowered the port engine (Mark’s cabin is right
next to the starboard engine) and proceeded to motor sail toward Oxnard.
Highlights during our
watch including watching the moon set off Bluewater’s stern and having a
half-dozen dolphins swim off the bow. I caught sight of the dolphins and ran up
the bow calling back to Kevin to join me. We sat on the trampolines for several
minutes before the dolphins veered off port and into the darkness.
Mark relieved us about
11:30. He told me later that a pod of dolphins came and swam next him during
his watch too.
I retired to my bunk
for some much needed and welcomed sleep. I woke around 5:30 to the sound of the
engine cavitating and stronger winds. I went topside to learn Lawrence had
unfurled the jib and raised the main sail by himself during the night. Upon
seeing me, he asked how I was feeling? My honest answer was I felt pretty good,
but just had a splitting headache. Lawrence told me to take the helm, warned of
a cornering sea and pointed a heading just south of some flashing green lights
off in the distance. When he reappeared, he handed me a bottle of water and
threw two ibuprofen into my mouth.
The flashing lights
denoted the breakwater protecting the Channel Islands Harbor.
A few minutes later,
all crew were awake and on deck. We pointed into the wind and, once again,
dropped the main sail before motoring into the south entrance of the harbor. As
we entered the harbor, we saw Karl, Angi’s husband, running along the jetty of
the harbor. (It’s a longer story, but he was en route to San Diego. Karl would
be Angi, Lawrence and possibly my, ride back to the Bay Area.)
We motored into the
harbor looking for “I-39”, the slip Liz had reserved for us. We think we sorta spotted
it, but there was another boat on (what we thought) was our end-tie. I turned
the helm over to Mark who was going to circle back around and look down one of
the docks nearby. The port engine quite and wouldn’t stay running whenever he
tried putting it into gear.
With only one engine
to maneuver Bluewater, we opted for an open dock, which looked like its only
recent occupants had been seagulls. Between four people who were skilled with
engines, two of us lending moral support and a little time for the engine to
cool, Mark restarted the engine and it seemed to behave. He deftly manipulated
Bluewater into an open slip back at “I” dock.
Karl was behind
schedule getting to San Diego and needed to get Angi and Lawrence loaded so he
could get moving. He kindly offered to let me stay with Mark and Kevin, and
would “swing” by Oxnard on his way back to the Bay Area and pick me up. (A very
generous offer. Thank you Karl.) But it was an offer I didn’t use. After a real
breakfast and a hot shower, I decided to “climb back on the horse,” stay with
Kevin and Mark, and sail on to Catalina for Leg Four.
The rest of the day
was spent spraying/washing down the boat, futzing with the small dingy motor
and heading to the fuel dock to replenish the gas cans. We had dinner, watched
the Giants win game 7 of the NLCS and bedded down ready for a(nother) 4:00
departure to Isthmus Cove, Catalina Island in the morning.
(Other pictures from this leg can be found at Leg 3 Morro Bay to Oxnard)
Throughout the day we were not alone as we sailed along. We passed seabirds and
sunfish. Mark sighted tuna. Perhaps the highlight was spotting a pod of
white-sided dolphins. From several hundred yards off starboard I saw them jumping from
the water. A few broke off from the main pod to check us out and swam off the
bow of Bluewater for several minutes before leaving to rejoin their friends.
After 30 hours and 165 nautical miles, we all bedded down for sleep.
