Cruising the California Coast

California Coast Cruising the Suzy Carmody, s/v Distant Drummer

Cruising on the California coast in the long, lazy days of late summer was extremely satisfying. The bays and harbors are well located for comfortable day sailing and slow-paced mornings segue into exhilarating afternoons galloping ahead of the sea breeze to reach the next anchorage by sundown. As we sailed southwards aboard our Liberty 458 sloop, Distant Drummer, we sought out attractions to amuse even the most seasoned cruiser; nature and history provide a wealth of interesting places to explore, the cities are teeming with shopping, and there is a plethora of sights to see from fun parks to film studios.

While cruising in California, I was captivated by the tales of R.H. Dana who spent two years aboard a Boston brig loading hides between San Francisco and San Diego. His memoir “Two Years Before the Mast” provided an intriguing cruising guide and it was interesting to compare the passage of today with his voyage nearly two hundred years ago.

MONTEREY BAY AND POINT CONCEPTION

We had been in the San Francisco Bay area for six weeks and had explored most of its nooks and crannies. We had cruised up the delta, hung out around the Bay, and sailed under the Golden Gate Bridge enough times to finally catch it naked without its habitual foggy shroud. As we passed under the Gate for the final time, we were graced by a pair of humpback whales. It was fantastic to watch them surfacing and breaching so close to the entrance to the bay.

The passage from San Francisco to Monterey was a leisurely three day cruise, motor-sailing in the gentle

morning breeze until a brisk northwesterly filled in during the early afternoon. The first night we tucked in behind the breakwater at Half Moon Bay and stopped for the second night at Santa Cruz. We dropped the pick on the east side of the pier, slap-bang in front of the world-famous Santa Cruz Boardwalk. As an aficionado of fairground kitsch, I rushed ashore to revel in all the fun of the fair. Later, as we tried to sleep, it was not the throbbing music and screams from the amusement park that kept us awake, but the raucous barking and

snorting from the sea lion colony beneath the pier.

Crossing the bay to Monterey on a crisp blue-sky day with a 20kt breeze on the starboard quarter was magical sailing; we were almost sorry to arrive at the harbor. A mooring field occupies the area to the west of Fisherman’s Wharf, so we anchored on the east side and settled in for a calm, clear night. Monterey Harbor is one of the few anchorages which is exposed to winds from the north, but luckily the wind had backed to the southwest and we were protected behind Point Pinos.

Back in the early-1800s, Monterey was the seat of the Spanish government and boasted the only customhouse on the California coast. With the huge demand for canned sardines during WW1, Monterey mushroomed, but the old Custom House can still be found standing in the Presidio by the wharf. We sauntered along Cannery Row past the clapboard canning factories which have been renovated and transformed into fashionable shops and restaurants. The town was lively with summer tourists, but we saw no sign of the “cock-fighting, gambling of all sorts, fandangos, and every kind of amusement and knavery” that Dana reported… a shame really, it sounded like fun!

Heading south from Monterey we had a boisterous overnight passage around Point Sur with a 2m swell and the wind gusting over 40kts on the starboard beam. At sunrise, we noticed that a seam close to the top of the mainsail had split so we decided to stop in Morro Bay to repair it. We slipped through the channel between the sand spit and sugar loaf peak of Morro Rock and thankfully dropped the pick in the anchorage area opposite the old power plant. A colony of sea otters lives in Morro Bay and they are constantly diving and feeding, playing and nursing their fluffy pups in the tranquil water of the bay. Watching their antics provided a perfect distraction as I sat in a billow of canvas stitching the mainsail. Point Conception is a cape with an unhealthy reputation for strong winds and rough water; Dana reported “gales, swept decks [and the] topmast carried away.” We were somewhat luckier and enjoyed a beautiful sail from Morro Bay to Santa Barbara in a 15-20kt breeze with a full gib and two reefs in the newlystitched mainsail. We stopped overnight in Cojo anchorage, a small cove which shelters behind Point Conception and has a great view of the lighthouse. It is one of the oldest lighthouses on the California coast but is rarely visited as land access is restricted by the military and by a private ranch, so only yachties get to see it!

SANTA BARBARA AND THE CHANNEL ISLANDS

Santa Barbara is a day’s sail from Point Conception. The wind was light, but we had the dependable southerly California Current helping us along, and we arrived in time to drop the pick to the east of Stearns Wharf as the sun set. We enjoyed sundowners on the back deck with a view of the twin towers of the Mission peeping out amongst the white-washed walls and red tiled roofs of the town and the surf pounding on the golden beach.

The Mission at Santa Barbara was the tenth built by the Spanish along the Alta California coast. It was constructed in the early 1800s and is the only mission which still operates today as a Franciscan Friary. It is one the few old buildings still standing as most of the town was destroyed by an earthquake in 1925. The thick stone walls and arched walkways surrounding the rose garden and central courtyard provide a cool, dark hideaway from

t h e scorching midday sun. The only downside of being anchored in Santa Barbara was the difficulty in finding a place to land the dinghy to go ashore. The surf makes a beach landing difficult; Dana described a group of Sandwich Islanders as they rowed their boat in to the shore: “...they gave three or four long and strong pulls and went in on top of the great wave.” We weren’t quite up for that and eventually we were able to buy a three-day permit to use the “skiff row” inside the marina.

It was a clear, sunny day when we departed Santa Barbara and we had a fantastic sail across to the Channel Islands. With just the head sail up, we were flying along nicely in a steady 20kt sea breeze which blew until the sun went down. Santa Cruz Island is the largest of the group of steep, craggy islands that lie on the south side of the Santa Barbara Channel. We anchored in Pelican Cove, a pocket-sized crevice in the sheer cliffs that make up the north coast of the island. The anchorage is exposed to weather from the north but a mild westerly swell wrapped around into our notch, giving us a slightly rolly night. Pelican Cove has no beach so getting ashore is hazardous. Instead, we pumped up our inflatable kayak and explored the bay from the water, paddling amongst the dramatic caves and sea arches.

Little Scorpion Cove at the east end of Santa Cruz Island is an imposing anchorage lined with tall cliffs and tottering sea stacks. The water is as clear as gin and it was mesmerizing to watch the kelp fronds swaying in the swell as it dashed white against the rocky islands. We dinghied ashore to a small sandy beach and climbed up the steep path for a walk along the cliff tops. It was a glorious day, the visibility was sensational, and it was wonderful to see Distant Drummer anchored in the bay below and with Anacapa Island fading away into the distance.

VENTURA AND SANTA MONICA BAY

As we continued southwards down the coast, finding somewhere to drop anchor became more of a challenge. San Diego and the bays of the Channel Islands are the only natural harbors in Southern California. Many ports have an anchorage area behind the breakwater but anchoring in these zones is often limited to a maximum stay of seventy-two hours. These areas were patrolled by harbor police who seemed bent on steering us into marinas like sheep into a fold. As an alternative, the yacht clubs in North America have a brilliant system of reciprocity. They offer a few days’ free moorage and hospitality to cruisers visiting from other clubs and this provides a great solution to cruising without mounting up huge marina bills.

The strong northwest winds which whistle around Point Conception and the western Channel Islands in the summer

months tend to die out once they reach the Santa Monica Basin. We re-crossed the Santa Barbara Channel from Santa Cruz Island to Ventura, motor-sailing in light airs, and tied up at the Ventura Yacht Club. We received a hearty welcome at the club and an invitation to join in a pot luck at the club house that evening. We had a fine time chatting with the locals, listening to a few yarns, and gaining a bit of local knowledge about favorite spots.

We were warned that Point Dume is another headland with a ruthless reputation. The Pacific swells pound through the gaps between the Channel Islands and wrap around Point Dume—making anchorage at Paradise Cove just behind the Point untenable except in the calmest seas. We struck it lucky again with surprisingly serene conditions and spent two fantastic days anchored there. Snorkelling at the Point with a couple of dozen sea lions was an unforgettable experience. They circled playfully around us and were curious, often swooping up for a closer look. Their bodies, which seem so cumbersome on land, were lithe and graceful underwater.

The Malibu shoreline between Paradise Cove and Santa Monica is home to some of the hottest real estate in the world; stars including Leonardo DiCaprio, Jack Nicholson, and Ellen DeGeneres keep the prices sizzling. As we sailed around the bay to Marina del Rey, we enjoyed gawking through the binoculars at the luxurious beach houses and sumptuous palaces in the hills above.

At Marina del Rey, a roadstead anchorage lies close to the entrance channel, however the outer breakwater provides little shelter from the swell and anchoring there can be pretty rough. Instead, we tied up inside the harbor for a few days, firstly courtesy of the Del Rey Yacht Club and then the California Yacht Club; we were beginning to get the hang of the reciprocal system! Marina del Rey is just south of Venice Beach and Santa Monica and is an ideal place to leave the boat for a visit to Hollywood and Beverly Hills. We bought a forty-eighthour hop-on, hop-off bus ticket, climbed up to the open air top deck, and gorged ourselves on Hollywood craziness.

SAN PEDRO BAY AND CATALINA ISLAND

It is a short hop down the coast from Marina del Rey to San Pedro, where Dana noted that “...there was no sign of a town, not even a house to be seen”—incredible! Nowadays it has been engulfed by the Los Angeles sprawl. The dock area of San Pedro and neighboring Long Beach is enormous, channeling vast quantities of imported Asian goods into the United States. The harbor in San Pedro has an extensive complex of marinas but a small corner behind the breakwater has been allocated for anchorage. We dropped the pick there and soon had a visit from the harbor police who generously gave us a permit to stay for two weeks. This gave us plenty of opportunity to explore the area and to share some good times with cruising friends Tom and Britta who live on their yacht Desire in the marina there. Dana reported that the “rascally hole of San Pedro” (love that description!) was unsafe during the violent northeasterly winds which blow out of the desert in the autumn and winter. These hot, dusty winds are known as Santa Ana and the west coast of Catalina Island is a great place to shelter from them. It is also a favorite place for Angelinos to unwind at the weekend and as a

consequence, the most popular bays are full of moorings. However, cruising boats can usually find room on the fringes and in the deeper water to drop the pick. We anchored in Catalina Harbor on the west coast and walked across the isthmus to the small community of Two Harbors, which lies on the east side of the

island. The red dust and eucalyptus trees reminded us of northern Australia. We propped up the bar in the Harbor Reef restaurant, supped a couple of icy cold beers, and enjoyed the casual and easy-going pace of island life in the low season. Little Harbor lies south of Catalina Harbor on the west coast. It has no settlement, just a couple of empty beaches, a camp site, and a dirt road connecting it to the rest of the island. In the evening, we went ashore to use the showers and, as we were soaping up, we were startled to see two bison grazing amongst the palm trees. It was astonishing to see these primeval beasts on a small island just off the Southern Californian coast. Apparently fourteen bison were brought to the island in 1924 to be extras in a film called The Vanishing American. When the filming finished, so did the money to transport them back to the Great Plains—or so the story goes—but they seem to be thriving in their exile.

The Oil Islands provide another surreal anchoring experience. These are man-made islands which lie off Long Beach Harbor and were constructed in order to develop the Wilmington oil field which underlies San Pedro Bay. The good people of Long Beach liked the money but didn’t like the view of ugly production platforms. So islands with palm trees were built around them and fake apartment buildings were erected to disguise the unsightly drilling derricks. Although anchorage is only allowed behind White Island at weekends, the Oil Islands offer a bizarre alternative to tying up in a marina for the night.

DANA POINT AND SAN DIEGO

After a couple of weeks of happy gunkholing in San Pedro Bay, we departed for San Diego, the last leg of our California cruise. A light wind was blowing from the southeast and we tacked laboriously between container ships and Oil Islands. We passed Newport Beach where the coastline begins to rise and high cliffs replace the famous sun baked Californian beaches. After a hard day’s tacking, we reached Dana Point and decided to call it a day, hoping for better wind in the morning. The bay at Dana Point is protected by a long breakwater and is almost completely full of marina berths. There is a small anchoring area behind the breakwater but we enjoyed a reciprocal night at the dock, courtesy of the Dana Point Yacht Club.

Dana Point is the zenith of Dana lore; statues of him abound around the town and a reproduction of the brig Pilgrim lies in the bay. He is immortalized for an incident that happened at San Juan while they were collecting and loading hides. Dana reports that tossing the hides from the bluffs down to the beach was much quicker than carrying them down the dangerous cliff path. When a hide got stuck part way down the cliff he was lowered down “by a pair of top-gallant studding-sail halyards” to dislodge it. Thus, he became a bit

of a local legend and the area previously known as San Juan was renamed Dana Point.

When we woke the next day, the wind had veered to a robust southwesterly and we had a glorious sail down to Mission Bay, a large shallow inlet which lies just to the north of the city of San Diego. Low bridges prevent sailboats from accessing most of the bay, but Mariners Cove is a lagoon close to the entrance channel, which is where we found a spot to anchor. Sipping sundowners in this tranquil cove, basking in the golden light of the setting sun, was heavenly. The next day, we rounded Point Loma, giving it a wide berth because of the kelp field on its seaward side, and passed through the channel into San Diego Bay. Dana considered San Diego to be “the best harbor on the coast, being completely land-locked, and the water as smooth as a duck-pond.” These days, the duck pond behind the sand bar is filled with container ships and naval vessels, super yachts and sailboats. The anchorage rules in San Diego require visiting boats to be inspected for safety and seaworthiness at the Harbor Police Dock. Having passed inspection, we were issued a 30-day permit for the A-9 Cruisers Anchorage, which is located conveniently close to downtown. From the anchorage, it is just a stroll along the waterfront to reach the Maritime Museum and USS Midway, and a short walk up the hill to the San Diego Zoo in Balboa Park. The downside of the anchorage is that it is located adjacent to the runway of the international airport and the noise pollution is off the scale! The late summer and early autumn months were a perfect time to be cruising southwards down the

California coast. Although the winds were often light, we could rely on the afternoon sea breeze to switch on the turbo — and on our good buddy the south setting

California Current —to keep us moving in the right direction. We greatly appreciated the yacht club reciprocal membership system and shout out a big thank you to the clubs who generously hosted us along the way. In the two hundred years since Dana visited California, megametropolises have mushroomed in once-deserted bays. Harbors are now cluttered with marinas and anchoring rules, but there is still room for the freedom-loving cruiser to swing on the anchor and be delightfully happy.

And Then There are THOSE DAYS

Cruising is perhaps the most idyllic way one can spend their life.

Anchor off of a little, palm tree-covered island in crystal clear water, the boat gently rocking in a light breeze while you sit in the cockpit watching the sun go down with a Cuba Libre in your hand, glad you are not in the rat-race any more; or moor in a tiny Greek harbor and sit in the café behind your boat, sipping a great Greek wine while listing to Zorba the Greek and munching on calamari, olives, and octopus. Believe me, in over 14 years of cruising, SoulMates and crew has paid the dividends on more than one rum factory and winery.

But there are those days when, well, you wish you were in a nice cozy house sitting in a recliner and watching old reruns of Lats&Atts TV and wishing you were there. Those days are what we call the dark side of cruising. Not that there are a lot of them, but each stick to one’s memory like a bad dream that never goes away. The real issue is how you handle those bad days, which will determine if you got what it takes to be out here to join this wonderful family. Attitude makes all the difference. Let me explain.

We arrived in Kos Harbor and saw that there were laid lines, and I thought to myself ‘no crossed anchors here.’ The dock master was waving us in and I looked like a pro as I expertly backed our Jeanneau DS 40, SoulMates, to the dock. Just as Patty was about to toss the stern lines, we came to an abrupt halt and the engine stopped. Quickly, she threw the dock lines and we were glad that they were long as it was just enough to reach the dock. The dock master pulled up the first laid line, we tied it, and then the second to the bow. Relieved that we were safe, we wondered what happened. The dock master pointed to a third laid line between the other two, which was stretched tight — OH NO.

And Then There Are Those Days

On went the mask, snorkel, and fins and into the water I went to find mission impossible. The line was tightly wrapped around the shaft between the prop and the strut. “Let’s not panic,” I thought, “but let’s think this through…”First, I did not have gills so I needed a way to breathe underwater and, thanks to a very bright son who made me a homemade hookah, I could spend time under SoulMates cleaning the bottom.

Out of the water, I climbed — time for the wetsuit and some weights. I turned the engine on for

electricity, and back into the briny deep with a sharp knife I went. To say the dockmaster was not thrilled with my docking is a bit of an understatement, but he was all smiles when I cut the laid line and it was long enough to reach the dock so he could repair it. But now came the rest of the line, and boy was it tight — actually almost welded together — and I had to cut a bit and work it free. All worked well until Patty got concerned and pulled the air hose out of my mouth. Coming up, I looked at her and she just said, “I wanted to make sure you were ok.” As I coughed out that bit of saltwater I ingested, I thought “How can you argue with that?”

After one and a half hours under SoulMates, I was able to cut off the last piece. We finished backing in and had a wonderful stay in Kos — but only because we were prepared and said ‘stuff happens, let’s deal with it.’ (Later, when I did a haul out, I installed a Spurs shaft line cutter.)

In the Black Sea, we knew the winds picked up in the early afternoon so we tried to be in a harbor by 1200 or so; it gave us time to see the local town and enjoy the culture. One day, it was so peaceful and calm, we decided to stretch our day by 10nm. We had 5kts of wind on the nose and the seas were flat and calm at 1200. By 1230, the winds began to pick up and were blowing 15kts and the seas became short, steep, and breaking — but, hey, we were almost next to the breakwater! By 1245, the winds were 20kts, gusting 25, and the seas were 3-feet-plus steep and breaking. We usually run SoulMates at 2200 to 2500 rpm and, with our Brunton variable pitch prop, we get really good speed, but on this day, we were at 3200 rpm going straight up and then slamming straight down, while trying to make 2-3kts. The wind picked up to 25kts, gusting 30, and the seas were getting even bigger now.

“No need to panic,” I thought as we’ve got a great boat and I could see the harbor entrance… only there was a bunch of rocks just above the harbor entrance. I knew if I got turned too soon, the waves would pick us up and carry us sideways into the breakwater at the harbor entrance, but if I delayed too long, I would hit the rocks. Timing was everything and, just before the rocks, I got a smaller wave and made the turn and it carried the boat straight at the breakwater sideways.

When I got SoulMates around, I was dead center of the harbor entrance, only we were doing eight knots,

Of course, there are also those days when you think you got it all planned and the wind gods take over.

surfing into the harbor at Tirebolu. My only thought was that I was hoping these charts were right on depth. Getting in the harbor, I looked at where we were supposed to tie up, but it was wide open to the harbor entrance with waves pounding on it. Luckily, there was another dock that was facing the entrance. It was full of fishermen and, as I turned and began to approach the dock with our bow towards the entrance, it was a mad dash as they rushed to get their lines out of the water and then grab our lines and tie us up.

We had taken a two- to three-hour beating and were exhausted when a car pulled up. Assuming it was customs and immigration, I got the boat papers out but he said, “No, I have something for you.” Mehmet, a college professor teaching in the local university, had seen our fight with the sea. He handed me a kilo of fresh cherries and two rounds of bread, told us they would help us relax, and finished with a “Nicely done, Captain.” Mehmet and I still talk occasionally.

Patty still has no fond memories of that bashing, and me… well, let’s just say I am sure glad Jeanneau makes a great, strong boat and, yea, prayers are answered. Many a big ship captain told us the Black Sea is named “Black” on purpose. I never tempted her again or, for that matter, any other conditions that I deemed undesirable.

On the other side, we met Mehmet. It was Ramadan so nothing was open, not even a cay house, but if you know the Turkish fishermen, there is a cay someplace! We did find it and sat with the fishermen out of sight. People of the sea were hanging out together and no one there spoke English; we did not know much Turkish but we did communicate.

Collision or water coming into the boat? Maybe. But perhaps the worst thing that will really ruin your day is fire. It will take you and your boat down

What is the worst thing a sailboat captain can experience? MOB? Maybe. Out of rum? Nope.

very fast and, once it gets going, it is impossible to extinguish.

Leaving the lagoon in St. Martins, I transited the Dutch side bridge and started around to Marigot Bay to set up for a 0400 departure to the BVIs. The wind was up a bit at 15-20kts and the seas were a good four to five feet, but I was taking them at an angle so no pounding and at 2200 rpm, I was doing a nice 5-6kts. All was good as I approached the final headland when I smelled something very unusual. I went below and saw a bit of smoke from the engine compartment. I pulled the plug on the side and saw nothing but smoke, but also no blaze. So, I opened the companionway hatch, and there I saw fire. I already had a fire extinguisher in hand and immediately sprayed the fire that was on the starboard side of the engine. Not only did I spray the fire but, because the fire was close to the fuel lines, I sprayed everything. With the engine still running, I slowly made my way into Marigot Bay and called for assistance just in case the fire started again or the engine died. A couple of cruisers came out to guide me in and help me anchor. The engine would not shut off except via the plunger in the engine compartment.

Once all settled, I contacted my insurance company and they set up a surveyor who came out and tried to ascertain the extent and the cause. He was followed by a repair company who also developed a repair plan and determined what caused it. The best explanation I got was a wire had rubbed against the side of the engine in the back and shorted out, causing the fire. Why did it rub? No idea. But both people who came out said ‘whatever you do, do not start the engine.’ So, SoulMates got towed in and sat at the dock in Lagoon Marina undergoing repairs. The electrician doing the repairs said it was not much of a fire and that I did a great job reacting and getting the fire out quickly. But, to me, it was a huge forest fire that I never want to see again… even if it was a nice compliment on my reaction.

Over the past 15 years, SoulMates and crew have experienced many an anxious moment. Non sailors have asked many times, “Are you ever scared or frightened?” My response is always the same: I am way too busy to be afraid. If I think about it, I will lose my concentration and that causes a loss of focus, of processing all the alternatives, which could also lead to consequences that are not acceptable. Be calm and stay calm. Attitude makes the difference.