I access my state of mind: whereas during yesterday's shakedown cruise I was anxious, even a bit scared, today I'm exuberant. Feeling goooooooooood. Then, as we're raising the mainsail, still inside the harbor, I hear a thrilled hoot. "Yeeeeeeeeeeeah!!" Keith happens to be driving by in his car, waving at us. I wave back and feel a great surge of confidence. I like coincidences. "That's a good omen!" Dylan probably figures I'm a loony superstitious old salt by now.
The second good omen was just offshore, on the red marker buoy: a sea lion was laying out in the sun. Yesterday the seas were much rougher and no marine animals were frollicking. Today, even the dolphins were playing nearby us, as we cruised past the breakwater and ominous horn of the harbor entrance. Yes! Yes!
The VHF radio had a different opinion however. Coast Guard forecast on channel 22 warned sailors of "Gale force winds: if in port, stay in port. If at sea, immediately seek a safe haven." The time was 6AM and the wind was 5 knots, calm. Seas were bumpy but manageable. We figured that if we got around Point Buchon, halfway to Avila, before the wind picked up too strong, we'd be alright. That was our gamble, aboard the our trusty 1964 sloop.
A mile offshore, the Al Azar lay creeping along; they didn't make much headway in the past three hours. The wind steadily increased, and as we approached Point Buchon I decided to take the conservative approach and reef the sail early. We'd go slower but safer. All books say: "Reef early. That is, shorten sail as soon as the thought crosses your mind. You won't ever regret it."
Flying downwind 2 miles offshore of Diablo Canyon Powerplant, I decided to jibe to get away from the coast some. As I was preparing the jibe a wave knocked the boat around, sending the boom into an uncontrolled swing across to the other side, leading to a great "R-r-r-r-iiiiiip!" 5 feet of the mainsail lay in tatters, and while Dylan held the tiller I brought the mainsail down.
Under the jib alone we sailed at a respectable 4 knots. Around 12pm the wind really started to whip the sea into frenzy. The Port San Luis breakwater was visible, and we took a beam reach into the harbor, heeling the boat over 30 degrees in 25 knot plus gusts. The Raza sailed straight into the Avila Beach anchorage, between the two piers, without us hardly having to steer her, arriving around 1pm.
Although the wind still buffeted the boat, the anchorage was wonderfully smooth and hot. After tying up next to the Al Azar (it seemed calm enough), we re-organized the chaos inside the cabin, and eventually went to shore. Revelling throngs were milling about in the beach enjoying the Memorial Day weekend. Today's Beer Festival left a trail of college girls in bikinis and high heels struting about with hunky-dory dudes swigging on beers. After being in the harshest elements offshore, this hedonistic scene was too much to fathom. We scampered back to relax at home, which was bobbing gently. Home was no longer in Morro Bay. It was at approximately 35 degrees 26 minutes North, 120 degrees 68 minutes West, and happily so.
No comments:
Post a Comment