DAY 7
Early morning I heave anchor with a functioning windlass, which brings me great delight, and motor to get some waves. Even though this is the Tuesday after Labor Day, there are 10 boats there and about 15 people in the water. Head high sets were rolling through with nice rights and lefts, though with a bump in the water.
Last year I came out here twice in the Tabula Raza and anchored for several days straight off the spot, without bothering to go at night to a calm anchorage. The downside was the comfort level: during the day it's rolly, at night it's quite rough. But it's ideal for surf, as I had waves to myself for an hour every morning, and was also the last one out of the water in the evening; not to mention completely avoiding the hassles of re-anchoring and motoring about (and spending gas $$).
TRIMARAN DREAMIN'
During this trip my comfort threshold was much lower - the rolliness was frying my nerves, and the constant re-anchoring with difficult gear was wearing on my spirit. Every trip, especially solo, presents a new challenge and this was definitely the issue for me: as a surfer, wanting to be at a spot as much as possible, yet suffering because it's inherently a rough place to keep a boat.
My mind was spinning on the idea of getting a trimaran - how much more stable it would be, etc... and as it turns out older tris in the 30-34ft range can be had for as little as $5000. Why should I spend another minute of my time on this boat if my future lies in a trimaran? Such was the logic that was keeping me from being present and content with what I had, and which I was determined in some way to overcome.
GALE WARNING
The surf session was fun enough, and being the 4th and smaller day of waves, I felt satisfied to move on to the next phase in the trip. Plus I had hit a wall in my psyche and needed a change of environment, so I made my way around the island.
As soon as San Pedro Point was passed, the wind was howling and the whitecaps were big and mean. After several days in the protected lee of the island it was obvious I wasn't in the least prepared for this, equipment being unsecured and flying around the cabin. I turned on the VHF and listened to the marine weather radio, which announced a gale warning that evening - "winds consistently above 30 knots are expected". I promptly turned around and headed back to Yellowbanks, where I was going to feel some of the heaviest (yet brief) winds I had felt in years.
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