Anchoring for 10 weeks

Since I would be leaving the US for 2.5 months - two weeks in Mexico and 8 weeks in Ecuador - I wanted to make sure the boat would be safe. Many preparations were taken, such as making sure the bilge pump was working, the solar panel was charging the batteries properly, the skiff was ontop of the sailboat securely, the bow gear and cleats would withstand the stress of time and potential gales.

View of the Black Pearl as I paddled to the wharf Furthest out at East Beach, but still close enough so friends would be able to check on the boat, I dropped the 33lb Bruce anchor and 250 feet of chain - which is a fair amount for 40 feet of water during the summer. In case the harbor patrol had to tow my boat (knock on wood) and drop the anchor rode overboard, I left a few buoys handy. With surfboard and waterproof satchel in hand I jumped in the water and paddled back to the wharf, much to the confusion of the fishermen at the pier.


Early in my trip there was a scare. During the first week I was in Mexico, I had a bad dream about the boat (it disappeared!) and the next day I got a voicemail from the harbor patrol: "We got a report that your boat may be dragging, and you should come down here to move it." After a few phone calls, my friend checked out the situation and discovered that a powerboat had anchored right next to me; and had a bunch of anchor line hence was swinging around into other boats during calm times. They were there to watch the July 4th fireworks, and then left afterwards. Last I heard, my boat hasn't moved much, and continues soundly to this day, while I travel in South America.

Day 4 of the Trip

The situation was becoming a bit interesting, for 3 reasons: 1. we needed to return tonight as the crew had to return to their jobs; 2. the wind wasn't picking up; and 3. our gas was probably insufficient to get us all the way back across the channel. As it were, several boats decided to visit Potato Harbor this day, I suppose since it was so calm, and we asked if they wouldn't mind spotting us some petrol.

A kind couple from Oxnard gave us a gallon, and the rowdy follks from "Tipsea" also let us syphon a gallon from their outboard. Thanks to these friendly boaters we'd make it back on fossil fuel alone, if need be. As it turned out, we didn't need it, but... it's better safe than sorry. Since I'm really not a fan of using gas engines (hence the reason we only brought 4 gallons on this trip, which wasn't enough given the calm conditions) the experience reinforced my hopes of one day getting an electric inboard and a more robust solar system and battery bank.


Getting gas from Tipsea - arrghh, the bounty!

So shallow was the anchorage that I dove for the stern anchor (20lb Bruce) in 10 feet of water and walked it along the seafloor back to the boat (nevermind the 100ft of 1/4in chain). We motored into the channel, expecting total calm, but happily felt the first airs after an hour, and soon had 10 knots of wind on our beam. The Pearl was flying with her recently scrubbed hull, doing over 5 knots in the blissfully smooth conditions for a full 3 hours. The final few miles were back on engine mode, which gave us enough time to wash down the decks with buckets and scrubbers; secure all the sails and gear; and make the boat more beautiful than when she left.


The boat was sailing sweet and fast under helmsman Owen.


Enjoying post-voyage meal at the Endless Summer Cafe in the harbor.

Day 3 of the Trip

June '08 Trip Santa Cruz Island



The wind wasn't even threatening to make an appearance; yet we had the itch to move so we weighed anchor around 1pm and motored in glassy seas with the silver tarp half-sheltering us from the scorching sun. We hugged the coast chugging along at 3 knots to save gas, and checked China Harbor to see if there were any waves; there were none. On we motored to Potato Harbor, which is a scenic potato shaped cove, quite large but rather exposed to the prevailing North West swell and wind. However this being an ultra calm day we tried our luck there.



The others hiked off to watch the sunset from the top of the mountain while I hunkered down and watched the boat, increasingly concerned as a regular windswell emerged from the NW. Was this an indication of a stronger wind ready to howl, or the fickle night sweats of a dark ocean? We had been a bit arrogant about anchoring so close the rocks and now I regretted it. The worry subsided though, as the wind remained a steady but light breeze, pitching the boat considerably like a seesaw, but thanks to the bow & stern anchor setup we were not rolling at all, and were able to sleep fine.



Later, I was to find out that my friend was aboard his 38 foot Islander sailboat hanging on for dear life as a strong wind was sweeping down the canyons at Smuggler's Cove, on the other side of the island. How strange - we were in the windward side of the island, and experienced only shifty light airs, while my friend was on the leeward side, protected one would imagine, but getting blown by offshore winds. This is apparently a result of the Venturi Effect that increases the velocity of the wind as it travels up the mountain and then blows down the other side.


Anchored at Potato Harbor

Day 2 of the Trip

June '08 Trip Santa Cruz Island

The Nature Conservancy owns about 76% of Santa Cruz Island, which is restricted to no public access. Their efforts to preserve and restore the land range from native species restoration to pig eradication campaigns to support the island fox populations. Access to most of the island's coves is only possible by boat, which is how we made it into Fry's Harbor.



The experience of being anchored in a remote cove is unlike any other I know. The lack of civilization, the calm water, no distractions from phones, internet, and chores, lends to a near total state of relaxation. I say near total, because for the captain at least there is always an undercurrent of anxiety, which often lies unmanifested, but is ready to be triggered at the hint of any problem.

The dragging anchor is the primary possibility for stress - if the wind picks up and/or the anchor is fouled (not properly set) the rocks are awfully close by. But there is also a personal satisfaction drawn from the responsibility of smart anchoring and the edginess of being on your feet at all times.



As for the crew, the total relaxation was multiplied by the heat wave that was overtaking the California coastline during this summer solstice weekend - 85 degrees on the coast, not a breath of wind even in the "Windy Lane". The water was crystal clear, not too cold (63 degrees or so), we donned our wetsuits and went diving. Swimming through the kelp beds is a show of filtered light, tunnelling through the plant material that rises 40 feet off the ocean floor; and when we are free-diving, to look up at the water surface twinkling above and look for an opening in the kelp is a veritable joy.

A note on kelp: it is the fastest growing plant at a max of 2 feet per day (in contrast to shabby performance of bamboo, corn, and kudzu, which grow up to 1 foot per day), supporting a productive ecosystem of fish and crustaceans by affording hidding spots from predators and providing plenty of food. Only because of the cold water from the upwelling of nutrients does kelp grow, so even though it's located in chilly waters with the right wetsuit and attitude the experience is well worth it.



In the spirit of Two Years Before the Mast, I recruited my willing crewmates to do some maintenance work on the boat after our leisurely morning. That book taught me two things: 1. to be thankful that I have my own boat, despite its trials and tribulations, there is nobody who will slave-drive me; and 2. that the pattern of a vessel disintegrating at sea and being repaired in the harbor need not be the case, that through diligent maintenance it can actually be more beautiful when it returns to port.

So we scrapped the hull free of barnacles for 45 minutes each, and sanded and oiled the teak trim of the toerails and handholds; and in 2 hours accomplished what would have taken 8 hours for me to do in port. All the while, we had big grins in our faces because we knew a nice dip in clean water was seconds away.

Day 1 of the trip

June '08 Trip Santa Cruz Island

This trip is a celebration of finishing my first year of grad school. Just before school started in September I also did a trip to the Islands, so this trip felt like a "bookend", giving the year a context for reflexion.





The forecast was for strong winds on Wednesday, the day of our departure, for 20-25knots, 8ft seas at 10 seconds. It couldn't have been more different - the first 4 hours were all motoring in calm seas, and finally the wind picked up as we entered "Windy Alley" 10 miles from Santa Cruz Island and were suddenly flying at 7 knot speeds.






The moon, starting to wane after being full, rose in a spectacular fashion just after the sunset. We pulled into the Fry's Harbor the first night in the dark, with one other boat in the anchorage. The guy was taking up the entire inside part of the harbor with his extra long scope with lightweight line, which we did our best to navigate around, and anchor bow & stern under some difficulty. The hot, dry air was blowing out of the canyons and I jumped in the 64 degree water after we were snug and safe around 10pm, after 9 hours of travel time, 23 nautical miles, 8 knot max speed.

Disappearing Dinghy part 2

I kept forgetting about getting a lock for the dinghy, particularly now that I was in finals week. Just how things turn out, the dinghy disappeared again. This time there was no sign of foulplay or clues to its whereabouts. The stress was compounded by the fact that I was planning a trip out to the Channel Islands with 3 friends, planned departure the very next day. The dinghy was an essential item for us.

I ran down to Goleta Beach, about 500 yards away, and was overjoyed to see the dinghy on the beach - upside down on the rocks near the parking lot, as if someone had dragged it up there. The oars were gone, and the stern line was now attached to the bow. Weird. I ran along the beach another 1/2 mile but did not find any gear. At least the most important piece of equipment was not lost!

The happy crew with the dinghy intact, enroute to the islands, the sailboat in the background. A key item when you're based in an anchorage - but also great for visiting fellow boaters, using as a raft for diving, going to shore during trips, etc.

Remains a mystery what happened - whether someone took the dinghy, or whether it came loose from the knot on the post. Either way, a bummer, and I had to race to the marine store to purchase oars at $100 for the pair. Better than having to purchase a new dinghy, which cost me $250 used.

One would hope I had learned my lesson by now and plan on leaving things more secure!

Disappearing Dinghy part 1

I keep telling myself to get a long cable to lock the dinghy to the post, currently it gets tied on with the rope.  However I do lock the oars together, so nobody would be able to use them, but that wasn't enough to prevent some stealthy kids from taking it out for a spin.

In Goleta Bay, view from the boat of an airplane landing in the Santa Barbara airport. Right below that is where the kids took the dinghy for a fishing expedition

After class I had gone for a run and a swim at campus point, when I decided to walk out to the cliffs and check up on my dinghy - I hadn't been down to the boat in 2 days.  I skipped a beat as I realized it was gone, as far as I could tell from a distance.  I ran down there and saw a group of 4 kids floating on the dinghy down by Goleta beach.  They had left the locked oars behind so I grabbed the oars and chased after them.

I made a strong showing once they were within sight to pay attention to me, and signaled for them to return to shore.  Once it was clear they were cooperating, I said "hey sorry to spoil your fun but this is my dinghy."  They were in their 20s, and apologetically claimed not to realize it was being used; although they had clearly planned out this little escapade since they had their own paddles with them.  

At that stage I rowed back to my 'parking spot' and tied up again, noting they had left me a few hooks and sinkers unwittingly as gifts

Rowboat from campus at night

It's a daily adventure - walking at night with my backpack, the waves crashing on the cliffs, getting to the dinghy. Sometimes I have to hold the backpack above my head to keep it from getting wet, water swirling up to my waist. 

There's an incredible amount of kelp washed up on shore and the flies are thriving, which is a bit unpleasant, but I'm sure they serve a good ecological purpose. The tar has also been really thick on the beach.

Untie the dinghy, push towards the water's edge, and time the little sets with the moonlight. On good days I just get my ankles wet, no more. Sometimes the southeast wind is quite strong at night and I paddle against the chop, but it's always rejuvenating - I feel fresh and alive by the time I hop on the sailboat, and the lights of the campus are far away on shore.