Hey Friends!
Greetings from the Land of Light (and occassionally Toxic) Wind!
SOCAL!
Specifically, Two Harbors, Catalina Island... a short jaunt across the waters from SMOGBOUND Los Angeles.
Sailing in here, a strong Santa Ana from the NE felt like sucking a tailpipe. 30 miles from shore, I couldn't help but inhale the nonsense of LA. Meanwhile, as dolphins played around the boat, I took a look at the GPS and noticed we're sailing over a "CHEMICAL MUNITIONS DUMPING ZONE".
Sunrises have been creepily greenish purple.
Carcinogens aside, this beautifully rugged island is the namesake of La Sin Fin. She is, after all, a Catalina 27'.
Being in the mellow waters La Sin Fin was designed for, I wonder what the hell we were doing sailing it along the Oregon Coast in October.
Supposedly, it'll be a breeze from here to Cabo.
Palm trees!
Cacti!
Little Lizards!
Cocktails with umbrellas!
They're all here.
The border is a mere day's sail away... if only we had wind, a reliable motor, and a zillion other little things squared away. It looks like we'll be in San Diego into next week.
IF... if... if..
we make it the 100 miles to San Diego. With minimal wind we'll be relying on our "spare" motor to putt us along... a feisty but occasionally grumpy 1984 Honda 10 horse.
The Mercury 25 won't start no matter how much we fiddle with it.
Maybe "oilfreefun" wasn't the best URL. But we're trying.
Enough of the negatives.
The trip from Santa Cruz proved note worthily awesome.
We left Santa Cruz an hour before twilight to avoid 102 dollars worth of bullshit.
The wind picked up and it was smooth sailing to beautifully tainted Morro Bay.
Beautiful because of the mountains, sea life, and beaches.
Tainted by the 500 foot smokestacks of this powerplant looming over the entire bay... and a shitty vibe.Unfortunately, the wind was too light for kiting so we decided our stay would be very short... two hours tops.
The kiting around Morro Bay is undoubtedly really, really good.
Mid afternoon we pulled up at what we ASSUMED was the gas dock, picked up a few gallons, "confirmed" we could tie up there a few hours, and went for a pizza.
"BROSEF, I'M GONNA HOOK YOU UP FAT!"
Apparently, all the dudes working in all the pizza joints in Cali say this. And they do hook it up. A seven dollar pitcher of Sierra Nevada and triple toppings attested to that.
Hooray for hookups!
Appetites vanquished in preparation for a little foray from civilization, we returned to the "GAS DOCK" to find our boat had been moved by a commercial fishing husband and wife team of questionable sobriety.
Apparently, we had parked in their spot. The Harbormaster had to move our boat. Folks were irate. Apparently, we'd committed a grave offense.
While she reamed me out, I offered infinite apologies at the misunderstanding.
The husband had disappeared in search of the authorities.
Mac nonchalantly readied La Sin Fin.
A prompt departure needed to be made.
Realizing we were taking off, the ass-reamer switched from "turbobitch" to "nice-lady" mode, encouraging us to stay for the night.
"You don't want to go out there. The weather's gonna be SNOTTY. Stay tied up right there."
Lady, you're snotty. And devious.
Clearing the jetty at full throttle Mac and I couldn't help but crack up. Seriously?!?!
Hopefully there'd be no one to judge and fine us on the uninhabited, westernmost of the Channel Islands: San Miguel.
Incidentally, the weather was pretty damn "SNOTTY" going around Conception Point in the middle of the night. The camera captured the essence of my seasickness and fear.
My vision may be blurry but I can tell the bastard is smiling. Thank God for the full moon or we'd have been flying blind out there.
Midmorning, still dealing with 30+ knot winds, we pulled into a deserted bay on a deserted island and scratched our heads about where best to drop the hook amid the kelp forest.
Our only neighbors were the biggest, noisiest, fightingest, fartiest Sea Lions imaginable.
The boat snugly anchored (or so we thought), we took off exploring in the dinghy.
The sailboat is way in the background of the above picture.
We carried lots of crap up big steep hillsides.
And found the best secret kite beach ever.
There's half of it. Here's the other half.
It was a good time. 20 knots with nice waves.
After a sleepless (for Max) night on the anchor, the wind picked up even more the next day. Gusting over 35, the anchor drug into some kelp and got seriously fouled.
Things were a little hairy for a while but eventually relative safety was restored. Then we went kiting again.
Winds subsided the next day and we set sail again.
Conditions? Perfect.
While I'm reading, Mac is strumming his ukulele.
He's really getting into the spirit of the whole trip.
Sometimes, I can barely recognize him.
Me? I'm still freaking out and stressing occasionally. I think once we're south of the border I'll be able to relax a little more.
The new autopilot, "BEBE JESUS" (pronounced BAY-BAY HEY-ZEUS), is without a doubt our little personal savior.
Multiday sails are a breeze with that little bastard manning the tiller.
As Cool Hand Luke prophetically put it:
"I don't care if it rains or freezes as long as I've got my plastic Jesus..."
This post is going nowhere and the wind is picking up and there's oodles to do so its time to wrap it up.
We're headed to San Diego NOW. Mac's mom is flying down to visit and we're very excited about that.
After a few days of final preparations, we're finally and truly GONE.
Incidentally, yesterday marked the 1 month mark of this little viaje! We haven't sunk ANYTHING yet! We celebrated with a nip of Sake.
We're 4/7ths of the way to Cabo and halfway to La Ventana.
Mexico is so close that my bowels are already agitated. Vamos!
Hasta Luego, Chés Locos.