It was about a year after we had returned from the Baja-HaHa on a friend’s boat, that we decided it was time to take our own boat, PROXIMITY, a 1976 Sparkman & Stephens designed Swan 41, on our next vacation. The plan was simple. We would sail with the prevailing winds, non-stop from San Francisco to Santa Cruz Island, which should not take more than 2.5 to 3 days. Then we would spend a few nights at anchorages at Santa Cruz Island, head over to Santa Barbara to fuel up and harbor-hop back up to Monterey to meet with friends in the California Cruising Clippers who would be arriving on their cruise-out. We would stay a week in Monterey, and then hop home to S.F. Pretty simple, isn’t it?
Preparations
Many, many months ago we started gearing up for our adventure. We took our annual stay at KKMI, our favorite boat yard, early this year. In accordance with our “five-year plan” to outfit the boat for cruising, we had a B&G H1000 autopilot installed. We immediately liked him alot and named him Michael, after Michael Schumacher, the top Formula-1 race-car driver. The boat show in April rendered a Winslow life raft and a new UK-Halsey carbon-mylar genoa. Now with the increase in power from the old genoa, I no longer had the strength to trim the new one, so I demanded self tailing winches, which our thirty year old girl did not have up to that time. Soon our boat was sporting shiny new Lewmar 65 self-tailers. I must also mention the Walder boom brake, which we acquired earlier this year. There is no U.S. distributor, so we had it shipped directly from France. It sure turned out to be a very worthwhile addition. It comes in so handy! There was also the deck painting. We are one of the few Swans that came out of the factory with non-skid decks rather than teak. The original non-skid deck really did not deserve that name anymore, and was more useful as a slide in an amusement park rather than providing any non-skid characteristics. For the new deck paint we decided on a product called ‘Durabak’, manufactured in South Africa. It is used on work boats and was originally developed for pickup truck beds, which are called ‘baki’ in South Africa. That project was a whole story in itself, but the bottom line is it turned out very well. With the boat so equipped, we finally started with the real planning of the voyage. Paper charts were bought, courses determined and waypoints entered. Then the boat had to be cleared of all the stuff we would not need, such as business clothes (mind you we live on board), the iron, books which had been read a long time ago, the list goes on. It really didn’t make a lot of room, but nevertheless made room for other stuff we were moving in. The closer the departure date got, the more we were schlepping. In the end everything somehow was on the boat and properly stowed. The diesel jerry cans proved to be a last minute challenge, but we ultimately managed to shove off only a half hour later than we had planned.
The Voyage
Weeks before the departure, we changed the plan slightly. We decided to spend a day with friends in Half Moon Bay on the way south. So we did. After leaving SF Bay, we ended up motoring to Pillar Point Harbor because the previously mentioned prevailing wind was so light that the windex was spinning aimlessly and our sails were slatting.
When we left Pillar Point two days later, the wind was back to ‘normal’, and gave us a great sailing day. Our heading took us about ten to fifteen miles off the shore, since we were now on our way to Santa Cruz Island. As it got later in the day, the wind and seas picked up and we reefed the main in preparation for the night. This would be our first night passage with just the two of us on board, and I must admit that I felt some butterflies in my stomach in anticipation of my first solo night watch. Now in these bigger seas, Michael (our autopilot) had started making a few grunting and grinding sounds, much different from the sounds earlier on, which were best described by comparison to the barking of a ‘yip-yip- dog’. The captain decided to examine the steering gear, just to make sure everything was fine. When he came back up into the cockpit, there was good and bad news. The good news first, Michael was fine. The bad news was that there was a small stream of water leaking in at the rudder post packing, which, unlike the packing gland in the prop shaft, wasn’t supposed to be there. The cell phone showed some signal, so we attempted a call to KKMI to ask their opinion. Maybe this was no big deal, and we would be perfectly fine to continue on to Santa Cruz Island. Unfortunately, the connection failed during this sentence “Hello Kim, we’re about 20 miles off Monterey, and we’re taking on water……..”. So now we knew that without a doubt, our friends at KKMI were probably not going to sleep very well, and we felt awful about it. In the absence of better information, we chose to be conservative, change course and divert to Monterey. It was really too bad, since the sailing was good at this time and Monterey was quite a bit out of the way. We got a slip in the Monterey Harbor and were ready to tackle the leak in the morning. It was really easy, and by the end of the day, the shaft was adjusted. We were ready to continue our trip, but now the weather forecast had changed, predicting gale force winds for a few days. More sailboats came in, but nobody was leaving. So, we ended up staying in Monterey for a couple more days before we took off again.
Finally, an early morning departure out of Monterey left us with no wind and somewhat bumpy seas, but they were from astern, so we motored happily along with the swells lifting and pushing us along. The day passed quickly, and now it really was time for the first night sail, or motoring, as it turned out. We had agreed on a ‘two hour plus’ watch cycle, meaning the off watch crew was going to set the alarm for two hours once tucked in the bunk. (This worked well for all the night watches we did throughout the trip.) It was cloudy, so the night was dark, with a new moon and no stars at all - even the horizon was elusive. Our little ship carried us bravely through the black, no traffic was sighted, nor was anything hit. My butterflies about the night watch were now a thing of the past.
We settled into the life on board. In the morning, coffee making in the ever-moving galley, taking a shower trying not to fall over… It was all great fun, and we felt were going places, cruising… Later in the afternoon, the legendary Point Conception was coming up. As we got closer, the wind started to pick up, and we finally could turn off the engine, which was quite a relief after having had it running for 30 hours plus. We double reefed the main, and were eventually flying by Point Arguello to Point Conception with the advertised 35 knots true wind from the back and thoroughly confused seas. Rod was hand steering, and I have to admit, I totally enjoyed the wild ride. It was beautiful.
Once we cleared Conception, we chose to savor this experience and anchored for the night at Cojo. What a difference - all of a sudden – warm wind, clear, blue water. The shoreline resembled Baja. It seemed that we really had gone far.
The next morning was warm, and we were lucky enough to have a dolphin swim right by our boat while we had breakfast. We traveled in shirts and shorts now, and by early afternoon we arrived at Santa Barbara. Even though it was Labor day weekend, we were given a slip in the busy harbor, a mixture of commercial fishing boats, pleasure boats, and, much to our surprise, some pretty raggedy looking derelicts. Nice restaurants in the harbor area, warm weather, white beaches... wow, we began to understand the statement in our cruising guide, claiming that many So-Cal sailors never venture past Point Conception. Why would they? It’s beautiful here.
After a few days playing in Santa Barbara we continued on to Santa Cruz Island, and had a wonderful sail across the Santa Barbara Channel. I even caught a fish underway, but that’s a different story. We set anchor in Smuggler’s Cove, a large anchorage at the eastern end of the island. We just took it all in – the beauty of the weather, the place, the pelicans, the view across to Anacapa. Once again – cruising magic.
The next morning, we had to choose how to get to shore, dinghy w/ engine or kayak? We decided to inflate the kayak, which turned out to be a wise decision. When we paddled over to shore, there was a surf and our kayak got swamped, but we didn’t get dumped. Our exploration of the island was cut short by my worries about the boat. At anchor, all by herself, she looked so small and vulnerable from our beach viewpoint. That’s something to get used to, I suppose, to actually leave your boat out of sight at anchor for extended periods of times. There will be more opportunities in the future, but for now, we would head back to her. First though, we had to face the challenge to actually get back out through the surf. We watched the sets of waves for a while, and then, at an opportune moment, started running out through the surf, first mate jumped in first, captain was still pushing, urging ‘Paddle, paddle like hell’. “Are you in yet?’’ “Just paddle’ paddle…”. Eventually I felt the captain climbing into the kayak and we headed back to the mothership. Made it! Back onboard, we had a good laugh and were wondering if we might get arrested for trying to steal the beach, that’s how much sand we had in our kayak. Unfortunately there was also quite a bit of tar on the beach, which we had dragged onboard, it was a pain to get rid of.
After our stay at Santa Cruz, in anticipation of the harbor hopping back up north, we went back to Santa Barbara to fuel up, and also to get into a range where we could talk to Commander’s Weather who was advising us about a weather window to go north around Point Conception. They gave us a surprise by telling us to round the point tomorrow - not only in bright day light, but even in the afternoon! So we did, and it was a piece of cake, with 10 to 15 knots of wind. Though it was easy, it was eerie, so we were constantly watching, waiting for the dragon to wake up and we did our best to pass by quickly. We motored through the night timing our arrival at Morrow Bay for first daylight. The approach to Morrow Bay is somewhat disturbing when doing it for the first time. The buoys, which our GPS chart promised to be there, just would not show themselves and all the while, we were heading towards that huge rock. Until very close, not even an opening to the bay was visible. But needless to say, the buoys were there, and we got in just fine. We got a slip from the municipal harbor, since the Yacht Club was rather crowded. I was surprised by the strong current in Morrow Bay. There didn’t seem to be any slack, it was either full tilt ebb or flood, at almost 3 knots each direction. Unbelievable amounts of kelp and eel grass were floating along, and we had collected a one-meter deep layer of the organic matter caught between the boat and dock, which had to be removed before we could continue on to Monterey.
The forecast had called for 6 to 8 ft. seas, milder close to shore. Normally we prefer to be well off shore, but we found the seas really slowing the boat down, so we tucked in about 2 miles off and found a remarkable difference. The water was smooth, we had clear skies and good visibility, and the coast was spectacularly beautiful. This trip to Monterey would be another overnighter, so later in the day, we moved a bit further out to prepare for night and the passage past Point Sur, another point we have been told so much about. Point Sur turned out to be totally benign. Then, at 03:00 we were now off Point Lobos, and the seas got very lively with big chop and zero visibility due to serious fog. I was on watch and on the radar, I had identified a boat directly in our path. I was about to wake Rod for his opinion, when the boat hailed us on the radio, informing us that he was a working fishing boat and asked us to stay a half mile away in the best of both of our interests. This made the decision easy. Rod was already up, had acknowledged the fisherman's call and advised him of our intentions while I had made our turn to westward. What a team!
Although it was now light, our initial approach to Monterey Harbor was a total ‘video game affair’ - the visibility was less than two tenths of a mile. But, by the time we actually arrived at the harbor, the fog had lifted, and it turned out a beautiful morning. These two tired sailors got checked in, showered, and took time to relax and let it soak in. We felt like we were back home by now, and commented to each other on how we had felt a couple of years ago, when we did the Monterey cruise for the first time. Then it had felt that we had gone very far. It’s all a matter of perspective, isn't it?
Wildlife
Can you say ‘Whales’? On the second leg of our trip south, from Half Moon Bay to Monterey, we saw so many of them that at some point we thought some porpoises would be a nice change. Of course the whales are magnificent, however, some were too close for comfort. They are huge after all. We did see lots of porpoises too, jumping all around the boat, and turning into green torpedoes at night, when all you can see in a moonless night is the fluorescence in the water. During that same night, our first overnighter, there were also little birds, they seemed to be mostly white in the sparse light from the running lights. They were there all night long, flying circles around the boat, in small groups of three or so. As soon as the day broke, they were gone, and we never saw them again. Maybe they were there to keep us company on our first solo night watches.
Other animals: sea otters in the Monterey Bay, so entertaining to watch, and a Great White Shark, really, (but fortunately in the shark tank at the Aquarium in Monterey, so that doesn’t quite count.)
Friends
This time of the year lots of folks get itchy and start heading south with their boats. We knew of five boats from Marina Village Yacht Harbor who were planning a trip to the Channel Islands right about the time we would be doing ours. In each harbor we went to, we ended up seeing people we knew. Even at Smugglers Cove, Jim and Melanie, friends from Alameda, in their boat Any Day Now, appeared and anchored next to us. It also seems to be true that when out cruising, one meets new folks who are just more welcoming than under ‘normal’ circumstances. When did it happen to you last that somebody you just met offers you the use of his truck if you need land transportation? A “new” friend that we met in Monterey did just that. Then of course there are the good old buddies from this little Cruising Club we belong to, and we all had a lot of good times together in Monterey. We had good times ‘cockpit sitting’ chatting and boozing (lightly), eating appetizers of course, racing bicycles along the coast to Pebble Beach. We found the Morrow Bay Yacht Club to be a very friendly and welcoming group. It happened that they were having a ‘50s /’60s sock hop that night. Rod and I, along with Matt and Teri, from Endless Summer, another Alameda boat, danced our tails off and had a wonderful time.
Fishin’
The ‘Fishing Guide for Cruisers’ claims that often, it’s the females of cruising couples who take to fishing. We are here to say he’s right. I got bitten by the "fishin’" bug a few years ago when going out with our friend, John Ventress, who introduced us to this side of the offshore activities. Now time had come that I would try to enrich our menu with fresh fish. The last weekend before departure, upon John’s advice, we headed to the Outdoor Pro Shop in Oakland, a wonderful "fishin" store of huge dimension. If you are not totally sure what you want, you’ll be lost in the store. But the nice guys in the store did a good job setting us up with some excellent equipment and the promise we would catch a fish, though most likely only south of Point Conception. That turned out to be true. Though I exercised my lures on most legs of the trip South, it was not until the sail from Santa Barbara to Santa Cruz Island that the "event" took place. We were sailing along happily, and I was pondering the question if I should go to a heavier lure of some sorts because the orange-yellow squid seemed to be surfing all the time due to our speed. But suddenly, the line went out, the reel was screaming, and the captain shouted ‘fish on, fish on!’ This was a first for me, and so it was a little bit of pandemonium. First we had to slow down the boat, i.e. get the genoa in, since I was not able to reel that fish in - even a little bit (maybe I caught a whale?) Anyway, the genoa came in, and the fish became visible shortly thereafter, a nice sized Bonita, yippee! We got it along side, gaffed it, and all plans of "how to not get blood on the teak" were gone at this second. It was blood everywhere, but it didn’t matter. The vodka, where is the vodka? It came out in short order, got poured into the gills to calm the poor fellow down, then he got stabbed in the brain to put him out of his misery. At this point we simply stuck him in a huge plastic bag and in the fridge. Once we had set anchor at Smuggler’s Cove, I filleted my first fish. Rod had the book in hand describing the procedure, me with the nice new fillet knife. Once again, we had a great laugh. The fish was a nice one, and it fed us for two days with ‘all you can eat’ fish. We even gave half of it to our friends on Any Day Now. We later heard that they had enough fish for two days, too. Thank you, fish!
Definition of ‘Cruising’
Certainly you’ve all heard this ‘ Cruising means to fix your boat a exotic places’. It is so true. Here comes a quick run down on things we discovered, and fixed, during our trip. (Bay sailing just doesn’t cut it for shakedown).
A leak at the rudderpost packing, not supposed to be there, caused us to made an unplanned, southbound stop in Monterey. We now have the proper tools on board for adjustments.
Tightening the steering cables. They were newly installed last summer, and some stretching had to occur eventually. The right tools were already on board. No problem.
Prudent sailors that we are, we had the diesel cleaned prior to departure. For that purpose the tanks had to be opened. Consequently, in one of the tanks a leak occurred where the screws hold down a metal access cover plate on top of the tank. We struggled with that the whole trip, lots of diaper service required.
In Santa Barbara we zapped the fuses in our charger by plugging the boat into 50 V 220 Amp. Darn, the writing at the plug at the dock box was illegible. We didn’t notice at first. It was only in Monterey when we noticed that our batteries just weren’t charged to full capacity. There were two reasons for these uncharged batteries - the charger had not been charging due to blown fuses. We carried spares, so no big deal. The second reason was that we had one dead and one half dead battery. They had probably been "on the fritz" for a while, but only now with the extended use of the autopilot, did it become apparent. We exchanged the batteries on the spot, providing us with some hikes through Monterey dragging dock carts loaded with batteries.
Impressions
We were both very exited when we finally went under the Gate and turned left. We both agreed that it had been too long since we had last done that. Stopping in Pillar Point made it easy for us to leave, even though we kind of felt that we were still not quite done with stowing, planning courses etc. However, we were on the way and could finish up last minute preps at our first stop. But it didn’t really sink in until the first night watch that now we were really "going places". There is something very special about night sailing with only two people, both on - and off watch. There is the aspect of trust. You have to trust your partner completely in order to go off watch and to actually sleep. No doubt, the captain was up to the task, and the first mate got a good rest in the bunk that we had set up for this purpose. But the other way around? Well, it turned out just fine - he trusted me completely, and knew I was up to the task. Fortunately the first two watches of the first mate turned out to be eventless, so the challenge was more to keep entertained enough not to doze off. There is something very special to be alone out there at night. The first night was extremely dark, no stars, or moon, no horizon, no points of reference. We had following seas, and the boat was lifted up, green-fluorescent foam around her, darting down into black. It was a wonderful experience, and you have let go of worries that you might hit something out there in the dark, a crab pot maybe, or a kelp bed, or things much worse (the legendary floating container). Nothing you can do about it in such a night. The boat will take care of you, and our girl was doing a superb job. It was also very special to see that beloved sleepy head, finally showing up in the companion way to take over the next watch. A quick exchange of updates of the latest occurrences, and then the cozy bunk is waiting. Fortunately, it was not until the third night sail on the way to Monterey back up north, the night watches brought some excitement, like dense fog, increasing winds, and the fishing boat right in our way. But by that time, it wasn’t a big deal any more.
Bottom-line, we sure do love and trust each other, as well as our boat, and I feel the trip was the beginning of great things to come. We are both ready to head out again for more adventures.
Lessons learned
Besides the most important lesson, which was that we both loved the experience of working, traveling and adventuring together, here is what worked well and what didn’t.
Big plus for the autopilot, an absolute must and it worked flawlessly. The same is true for the three-bladed feathering Max-prop. It made a big difference vs. its two-bladed predecessor.
What turned to be of unexpected great value was the Walder boom brake. I wouldn’t want to go without it. Also lazy-jacks make life pleasantly easier.
We have a rule on board Proximity, that, whenever we are out in the ocean, we tether to jack lines, and at night, when only one person is on watch, no one leaves the cockpit. I find that gives me great piece of mind, since, like all first mate’s worst nightmare, mine is to somehow find myself with my best buddy gone overboard, a thought I do not like to dwell on.
We planned the trip to take three weeks, which felt like a tight schedule. It was surprising how much we had to motor in order to keep the schedule. So, for ‘real’ cruising, not to have time schedules seems essential. The frequent motoring leads up to the one thing which really didn’t work for us and which needs to be addressed: the tank indicators of our diesel tanks were too unreliable. We found ourselves filling up the tanks from the jerry cans frequently, which is a nuisance, especially with those eco-friendly jerry cans which resemble tinker toys more than anything. We also had not given much thought to the tying of the tinker toys, ahem, jerry cans, so we ended up having the spinnaker poles being the main anchorage for the cans, not a good thing when down wind sailing.
Of course there are many more things we want to add to our boat before we go for the ‘big one’, but basically, she is ready to leave anytime.
One last word
If you are still reading at this time, please, accept my apologies for writing so much, but I still feel most of our story hasn’t been told, I just scratched the surface. We both agreed, this was the best vacation ever, and we feel cruising really is the thing we want to do
