bring the RAZA back home!

STUCK AT THE SANTA BARBARA ANCHORAGE

Some things are so wonderful, yet at the same time so god-damn-tough, that you have to wonder: is it all worth it? All the hassles, joys, and insecurities! At the end, of course, it's always worth it. But there are critical moments along the way when success seems impossible, and we'd rather just crawl into a corner and forget about it all.

The blessing and curse of owning a sailboat: those critical moments of stress can be amplified to new heights. Case in point: a month and a half ago, I anchored the Raza, my 29ft Columbia, at East Beach in Santa Barbara. She has been there ever since, leaving me to wonder and worry about her wellbeing from afar - 100 miles away, from my home in Morro Bay.



In September my friend Dave and I returned from a surf adventure out at the Channel Islands. The trip was awesome. Everything from the weather, wind, and swell went smoothly; even my fickle motor behaved itself. The mission was particularly an accomplishment given that 8 months beforehand I knew nothing about sailing - and there I was, cruising in search of waves! But on our return to Morro Bay we had some difficulties with the weather. The winds turned gale-force, and we were forced to abort the mission. The gods must have figured, "Enough is enough. This kid thinks he can just brave the seas without experience and get away with it? Ha! We'll give him some sweet struggles to remember."

With the North West winds blowing 25 knots, we returned to Santa Barbara, anchored her near the pier, and headed on our separate ways. Dave had to return to school; I was busy at work. Several weeks went by, and the boat was left on Faith alone. Then the first storm of the season slammed the coast with phenomenal strength, and I had to drop everything and go tend to the Raza. I jumped on the next train to Santa Barbara, arriving just as the wind and rain began to pound.

I had to move my boat into the harbor, as fast as possible. Three foot swells were already starting to cap all around, sending the Raza into a frenzy. Pulling up the anchor was near impossible - the 20 knot gusts would push the boat back with much more power than I could reel her in.

Turns out this was the first time I'd ever pulled the anchor on my own; usually I have a buddy along, which makes life a lot easier and safer. The situation was particularly precarious because the historic Santa Barbara pier lay 50 feet away on my lee shore - the wind would push us straight into the pilings if I lost control. But thankfully the old 1964 Atomic gas engine held up, and I managed to get the anchor on board and motor into the calm harbor. Like an overheating car which is fine until it slows down enough, I must have boiled over because as soon as I pulled into the slip I passed out. For the rest of the day I slept, with the drip drip of the rain pleasantly above.

PLEASE MR.RAZA, CAN WE GO NOW?

My plan was to wait out the storm, recruit some crew during the weekend, and take the boat back north. By chance luck that weekend had a very decent weather forecast, favorable for beating upwind around Point Conception. The prevailing head wind is brutal for those heading north, and to pick a good weather window is essential. It was lucky that the weather window was coinciding with a weekend- when others have time off to help me sail. After all, at this stage I wasn't even considering doing the journey alone.

But there were two things I didn't count on: One, is that people have lives. And lives always change! Even though they might usually be free during a weekend, you just never know. My brother's wife got sick; my friend had to attend an infrequent Saturday class. Dave, my first mate from the Islands trip, said he'd commit despite his upcoming midterms - as long as he was back in San Diego by Sunday night. And there was no way I could guarantee that. I began to think the unthinkable: I may have to do this journey alone.

There was a second thing I didn't count on, to further complicate my trip north: my boat has feelings. The Raza is fairly relaxed vessel, usually in a good mood. But when she doens't want to travel, she's like a fat grumpy dog which doesn't budge. My friend Matt Khach, mechanic extraordinaire and great guy, confided, "Whenever you plan to go somewhere, whether you leave the boat behind or bring it with you, you've got to ask her: Are you going to be OK? Are you sure?? Because if she's not OK, you just have to change your plans." You know the boat has taken over your life if you're making decisions according to what convenient to them, not necessarily what we want to do. But that's how it is!

So you've probably guessed by now that the Raza refused to make the journey north, whether I was alone or not. I had a series of engine problems which kept delaying my trip until I ended up missing the good weather window. I was besides myself in frustration.

In retrospect I realized it was for the best. Boats, like most inanimate objects (and occasionally primitive life forms) have a much better sense of intuition that I do. Clearly, the Raza knew that I wasn't yet ready for the solo journey. I can respect this opinion, but I remained bummed: why do I have to keep waiting?

PULL BACK & GET SOME PERSPECTIVE, BOY.

Two days later I returned by train to Morro Bay and found out why I had to wait. I'd had two assumptions about the journey north around the infamous Point Conception: 1)I need at least one other crew member to help me out. 2)Only a fool would try to sail around the Point; everyone motors north when the wind is calm. Since the prevailing headwinds are so strong in that area, attempting to sail upwind is a recipe for a time-consuming, wet, and painful experience. No one sails north around the Point anymore, these days.

Enter centerstage Mike "Moxie", the dread-locked dude I met at 2 Dogs Coffee. Mike sailed his 27ft Catalina single handed all the way to the Mexican border and back, without a motor. During the last storm in Santa Barbara, he had pulled into the harbor the same day I did. When the weather cleared, and I was wasting time and money on my faulty engine, Mike was sailing up the coast to Morro Bay. Sure it took him a lot longer than if he'd just motored - but he still got there at a reasonable time. I knew such a feat was possible; I just hadn't met anyone who'd actually done it.

Suddenly, the world of my possibilites expanded dramatically. My previous assumptions were replaced: One, I can bring the boat up the coast alone, if I have to. Two, I can sail north without a motor, if I have to.

This realization was huge. Now I was ready to do the trip.

TO INFINITY AND BEYOND

My boss gives me a week off work. I check the weather. Winds: light to moderate. Swell charts: a few pulses, but nothing major. Sunshine is in the forecast; no fog. I pack my bags and head for the train station.

I stare out the window in the train. The countryside is rolling by quickly. This is an old train; the windows have millions of scratches which turn the sun's rays into an orbital rainbow. I watch the setting sun over the ocean - the very same ocean I plan to cross in a few days. Possibly alone. Possibly without using my motor. Possibly I will have fun. The critical moment of hassle, joy, and insecurity is being extended indefinitely; and when I get to the other side, oh how wonderful it will be.

Motorcycle Diaries

A FILM BY WALTER SALLESI always wondered what was the fascination with Che Guevara. It's apparently really hip to have a poster or t-shirt with Che's yellow silhouette on a black background- I see it all over college campuses. An eerie, romantic emblem of communism in the middle of capitalism. Motorcycle Diaries is a story about Che's travels through Latin America - giving us glimpses of how he developed into a passionate revolutionary - directed by brazilian Walter Salles. By the way, who hasn't seen "Central Station", also directed by Salles? A great movie about despair and hope.

But back to Motorcycle Diaries. It was produced by Robert Redford, so it has a thick Hollywood veneer, making it "prettier" than it had to be. But it is still an effective story of how a journey can transform an individual. Che stepped away from his confortable Buenos Aires life, and his eyes opened to the world of social injustice. Brief encounters with men and women struggling developed his natural gift of empathy- we know from history that this gift erupted into a revolutionary spirit.
Many of us are fortunate enough to travel these days, and travel also opens our eyes. "Us" being the cosmopolitan, privileged generation of the 20th century who finds travel to exotic countries to be a feasible way to spend time. It's quite amazing, actually, that you probably know someone (maybe yourself?) who has been to Thailand, Egypt, or Australia. Travel remains the ultimate luxury. Even Che, which is remembered as a "man of the masses", came from a wealthy family in Argentina. Being wealthy, though, made the adventure a possibility, which made his revolution a reality. Not everyone is inclined to social revolution. But everyone is affected by travel.

I speak not of tourism, which is largely for the sake of entertainment, for the sake of photographs and souvenirs to show off back home. I speak of travel for the sake of experience, the immersion into a different culture, or simply to struggle through a foreign land. Preferably, you'll have very little money, not much of a plan (or at least, a plan that is constantly changing), and an open-ness to whatever happens next. When we have to rely on our ingenuity and spontenaity to get from point A to B, then we get a glimpse of who we are.

It is possible to get a glimpse of our true nature when we're not travelling- that is, when we're living our day-to-day activities of work, school, and friends. But those glimpses are obscured by thick layers of familiarity. What we are familiar with carries loaded stereotypes, so even when an unconventional thing happens we still assume it is conventional. One of the attractions of travel is that everything is unconventional- it's all stimulus, new-ness, excitement. But the positive side effect is that we really have to look into things, stare at them, because it is hard to figure out what is not conventional to our mind. That is what Che did: he looked at things, stared at them, and he changed. Everytime you throw yourself out there into the unknown, you also change. The question is, what are you becoming?

Dread-Locks in the Periphery

A CHALLENGING CONVERSATION

At 2 Dogs coffee shop in Morro Bay, I met a guy who completely changed my perspective on sailing. As I ordered my yerba mate, I noticed he had sailing pictures in his laptop. I said Hi. He looked at my kind of funny - it turned out we'd met before. 5 weeks ago I was in Santa Barbara anchoring my sailboat when the dread-lock dude and his lady friend showed up, having just sailed their 27ft Catalina from San Fransisco.

They yelled over the water, "How's the anchorage?"
"Pretty good! It's all sand, good holding ground." I shouted back.

The couple rowed their dinghy towards our boat.
"Hey, by the way, where's a good place to eat around here?"

Turns out they were headed down to Mexico. However, as I talked to dread-locks at the coffee shop in Morro Bay, I found out that his lady friend had to leave for work, and he went all the way down to Ensenada and back to Morro Bay where I now saw him, all on his own. And get this: for most of the way, without a motor!

Actually, he had a motor but it broke down the day he left San Fransisco - he claims this is the best thing that could have happened, because he REALLY learned how to sail. He sailed from Santa Barbara to Morro Bay in 3 days, upwind. Meanwhile, I've been spending weeks trying to coordinate this very trip. My boat is stuck at the Santa Barbara anchorage, and when I finally commit to doing the journey on my own, the motor has issues. So I didn't go. Of course, Dread-Locks didn't even have a working motor so this was never a problem for him.

I feel like I'm fairly gung-ho most of the time, veering towards the edge of reality, but this guy is really in the Periphery. Food Not Bombs, Homes Not Jails, what is he talking about? This is part of his network of existence in San Fransisco, where an alternative community finds livable, unused buildings to squat for free, and gathers packaged, healthy food from supermarket dumpsters. He recently did an experiment: to spend a year without using money.

How is this possible when you're living in the City?? Immersed in the ultimate urban setting, yet completely out of the system. Instead of creating waste, they are absorbing waste. By helping homeless people live in unoccupied buildings, they're making the most of perfectly livable spaces. By taking perfectly healthy food from the dumpsters of supermarkets and specialty food factories, they eat for free - not to mention reduce the landfills.

This lifestyle is not for everybody. In fact it's only possible because of the abundance in our society. But just to think that it is POSSIBLE is an amazing reflection of our culture.