misfits in catalina

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As the shoreboat whizzed by only six feet from the transom of our Islander* 36, Misfit, we could hear the boisterous laughing and alcohol-assisted revelry of Halloween night at Catalina. Many of the party-goers were obviously unaware of the drama that was transpiring during their absence.

The harbor at Avalon had been at its 300-boat capacity that day, with every mooring occupied for the festive weekend. During the afternoon it had rained off and on; the type of day that either forced people below-decks or ashore to some dry haven. The periodic precipitation at what’s normally a summer-fun-in-the-sun resort town made for an awkward combination. People were a little on edge. And very wet.

With the onset of dusk the rain abated, I moods lightened, and the harbor became a | beehive of activity. The liquor flowed as the

cruisers stood in their stil!-too-damp-to-sit cockpits enjoying the traditional sundowner. Meanwhile, the shoreboats hustled about to answer the horns of hundreds of mariners eager to get to the anticipated action ashore. The bars and restaurants would surely be as noisy and fun as the costume parties at the Chi Chi Club and the Casino would be entertaining.

Then it began.

Our Islander 36 started to pitch. At first we figured it was the wake from a passing something was up; there aren’t that many shoreboats. The pitching built, and within 15 minutes the swell had grown to 3-4 feet and the wind had come up to 15 knots.

We all know that boats are moored tightly together at Avalon, but you don’t appreciate how close until a little weather develops. The Newport 30 at the mooring 20 feet to port of

us was crashing, rolling and bobbing like a plastic bottle in the surf. It was uncomfortable just watching her, especially when she was

ALL PHOTOS BY TIM STAPLETON/MISFIT

As bad as things were, it was clear they could get a lot worse. Not taking any chances, we busily prepared the boat for the possibility of a hasty departure; gear was stowed, the engine warmed, and the radio tuned to the weather broadcast:

“Avalon: three knot winds from the southwest, no swell.”

Judging from the turmoil around us, that report might have been out of date.

crashing, rolling and bobbing so close to

Misfit.

It’s the uncertainty that gets you at a time like this. Will the weather quickly subside again, will it be rough all night, or — heaven forbid — will it turn into a disaster like the one in Cabo San Lucas in 1982?

We turned the VHF to Channel 12 and monitored the first of what would be many calls to the Harbormaster. It didn’t sound very promising.'

“The ketch at mooring 320 is dragging,” was one report. You mean these moorings can drag?

Three other boats radioed for assistance. A patrol boat was dispatched to render what help they could.

We could now see healthy-sized waves crashing against the seawall, sending plumes of spray 20 to 30 feet in the air. The spray turned a kaleidoscope of colors, reflecting the holiday lights of Avalon. It was lovely — in an ominous sort of way.

There was another call on 12 as one more boat dragged its mooring; then another. A houseboat was reported to have slipped on her bridle and began swinging in an everwidening arc, threatening her neighbors. A powerboat outside the harbor radioed that she was perilously close to the breakwater and had lost all power.

There was one harbor patrol boat that couldn’t come to assistance. They passed us towing one of the three dinghy docks — with dinghies still attached, sticking out like be taken away or the surge-driven gangplank would have ruthlessly destroyed it.

I f it got any worse, wewere going to have to leave. We didn’t relish the prospect of winding our way through the dark, crowded, churning harbor, but we nonetheless planned an escape route.

Then the wind shifted 30 degrees, hitting the moored boats almost broadside. A large, unattended powerboat in the row ahead of us drifted sideways and collided with a

‘Misfit’ finds a mooring with a view of the Casino.

Gulfstar 50. The crew aboard the Gulfstar pushed the unwelcome powerboat away and hung fenders over their starboard side to prevent a reoccurence.

When the wind returned to its previous direction, the folks on the Gulfstar — much to our amazement — hailed the shoreboat and with apparently no further concern for their boat merrily went to shore to party. It must be great not to worry.

Back on Channel 12, the litany of prob¬ lems continued. Boats slipping, boats col¬ liding, boats damaged. All the harbor patrol boats were busy with tows or assisting where they could. The Life Guard and Sheriffs Patrol boats arrived to lend a hand. But the radio chatter continued.

One persistent caller wanted to know the planned route of a Harbor Patrol boat with a ketch in tow. “They’ve already hit two boats, and I want to know their intentions,” he seemingly slurred over and over again. The Harbormaster patiently explained that they were doing the best they could.

Hanging out at Bernies with the cruising class of ’88.

Another call came in, this one for a boat looking for a mooring for the night. “I’m sorry,” the Harbormaster apologized, “we don’t have a mooring available at this time, and I really don’t think this is where you want to spend the night.”

Throughout the turmoil the Harbormaster maintained a calm, confident voice, never losing control. We were impressed.

The unpleasant weather continued pretty much the same for the rest of the night. It never got so bad that we wanted to risk leav¬ ing, but it never improved enough so we felt we could in good conscience go to shore. So we cancelled our plans and drifted in and out of sleep the rest of the night.

The situation was much calmer the follow- > ing morning. The sun soon broke through the clouds and started to dry all the boats off. Many of the moorings were already empty; people hadn’t fled the weather, they’d sim¬ ply started the typical Sunday exodus back to the mainland.

The last day of October also ended the season at Catalina, when the island popula¬ tion reverts back to 2,000. The normal sum¬ mer population is 5,000 — not counting the day-trippers coming over on the ferrys that can swell the number to 10,000. We stood around and watched as Avalon transformed* herself back into a quiet seaside town, something you wouldn’t have believed possi¬ ble during the bedlam and partying the night before.

The conversation between the remaining locals and cruisers — who somehow aren’t quite normal tourists — was light and friendly as things got cleaned up. Several of the shops were shutting their doors for the last time until Easter. Another season had been survived, it was time to settle back to the relative peace of their reclaimed island.

Of course, don’t be mislead into thinking that the island shuts down entirely for the winter, because that’s not true. Several of the bars and restaurants stay open, as does the bookstore, the chandlery, the stables and golf course, the fuel dock, and the Safeway. The latter, you might not have known, turns in the highest gross sales per square foot of any store in the huge chain.

The movie theater at the Casino, which

Sitting on the dock on the bay. Yes, all the girls look like this in Southern California.

deco interior. Built in 1929 — why did we have to bring that year up — it’s not the kind of place where you leave your popcorn on the floor.

For the budget-minded cruiser, the best news of the off-season is that winter rates go into effect for the moorings. When you pay for two nights, you get five free! The unexpected good news is always the best.

we were enjoying several cold,beers with some new cruising friends at our cutrate moorings when a local pulled alongside in a skiff. He introduced himself as Bernie Ramming and explained that back in the early 70’s he, his wife and two young chil¬ dren, had cruised the South Pacific on their Islander 55, Starfire. Bernie is living proof that old cruisers don’t die, they just settle down and raise their kids on Catalina until it’s time to cruise again.

Bernie’s enthusiasm for the cruising

Sign of the times.

lifestyle hasn’t waned after his years on Catalina, and it was obvious that he’d enjoy a chance reliving his cruising advertures and vicariously participating in ours. By the time he’d made the rounds of the harbor’s other cruisers it was clear that a party was in the making.

“Come on up to my place, we’ll have a BBQ. You can meet the people you’ll be running into for the next few months — and I have a hot tub!’’ Who could resist an offer like that?

The following evening a parade of dinks made their way to the dinghy dock. A group of about 30 people assembled on shore and were shuttled inland on the back of Bernie’s truck. The group spanned the gamut from ‘first timers’ to old salts. You’ll never guess what we discussed over burgers and beers: plans, boats, problems, past trips and dreams of the future. Later a few of we more decadent cruisers slipped into the inviting warmth of his hot tub.

The slide show presented by Bernie and his wife Judy focused on the advantages of getting off the beaten track and meeting the locals. It seemed clear that would be the only way to experience the richness of the cultures so many cruisers only glimpse as they follow routes recommended in the popular guide books. Philosophically we couldn’t agree more — although doing so while on Catalina seemed a little hypocritical.

Actually, being at Avalon in the off-season felt a little bit like sneaking in the backdoor. You feel almost as though you’re in a con¬ spiracy with the locals, sharing their enjoy¬ ment of the more subtle pleasures of the winter-lulled pace of Avalon. Faces become personalities and friendships are born. We’re cruising. _— tim Stapleton & karen munro

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