Does that sound like directions to the bathroom? Perhaps subject matter probably not suitable for a prestigious publication such as Ship-to-Shore? Well, for us nautical types, there is another entirely plausible explanation …
At 0125 hours on Friday, September 17, the sailing vessel Reggae, an Endeavor 32, smartly slipped her lines and left the Elochoman Slough Marina in Cathlamet. On board were owner Doug Martin, and crew of Bill Coons, Mike Coffey, and Colin Robertson. Our final destination was the warmer and drier climes of Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, but the first leg was planned to be a straight run to San Diego.
Taking advantage of the combined river and ebb currents, we made good time down the Columbia River, and arrived at Astoria just after sunrise. We pulled into the marina there, for a quick nap, and to await slack water over the Columbia River Bar. We were underway again at 0800, and we got to the Bar around 0900, about one hour before slack water. There were lots of breakers in the area south of the channel, and large waves breaking on the north jetty, but the main channel looked fairly clear, so we hoisted the mainsail, and motor-sailed out of the mouth of the Columbia River.
We quickly encountered 6-8 foot seas, with breakers often no more than 200 feet away to the south. But the real fun began when we got out beyond the south jetty. There, we were hit by the full force of the 25 knot winds out of the southwest. We would not be turning left at the Bar on this trip! The seas soon built to 10-12 feet, at an interval of only 8-10 seconds. Seasick? You bet!
Doug and Mike actually sailed through much of the afternoon, making a course of about 250 degrees. Bill crawled below to assume a horizontal position, while I clung to the lifelines, spilling my guts to the Pacific Ocean. At 15 miles out, we finally made our left turn. Somehow, we had also sailed into the middle of a bunch of squalls, thunderheads, and torrential downpours. Hard on the wind and fighting the rough seas, we were making very little progress. The genoa was soon furled, the engine turned on, and we motored southward throughout the long night.
When dawn broke, we were only a few hours away from Newport. We listened to the weather report, which predicted another day of rough conditions. With the crew battered and exhausted, the decision was made to head into Newport for a day and wait for the weather to improve. Fortunately, this is Mike’s homeport, so the benefit of his local knowledge gave us confidence that we could get into the harbor in these rough conditions.
As we rounded Yaquina Head, we were hailed by the Coast Guard, “Sailing vessel two miles north of Newport. What are your intentions?”
“We would like to find moorage in Newport for the night,” we replied.
“The Yaquina Bar is closed to vessels under 40 feet.”
Now that presented us with a dilemma. Fortunately, they must have sensed our desperation, for they quickly called back and said that they had a boat at the entrance, and that they would escort us into the harbor.
There is a large shoal area north of the entrance, so we had to swing wide and pick up the channel nearly two miles offshore. The swells were now 15 feet high and coming out of the southwest, while the wind was blowing 25 knots out of the south. The shoal area was full of breakers, and large waves were breaking over the south jetty. The entrance channel between the two jettys is about 400 feet wide, but it certainly looked much narrower in the current conditions. The Coast Guard took up position less than 100 feet off our stern, in one of their 40 foot surf boats. The helmsman was very skilled, and he would slide the boat from side to side on top of a wave to smooth it out a little for us. Inside the jetty, there were three or four more large rollers, and then the water calmed down. By the time we were going under the bridge, the wind had died and the water was glassy.
It certainly felt good to be back on solid ground! After a hot shower, we spent the afternoon doing some minor resupplying. One item that we all seemed to need: warm, dry gloves. We found some fleece gloves with rubber pads at the Wal-Mart store. They turned out to be much better for our conditions than sailing gloves. We had a nice dinner at a waterfront restaurant, and then went back to the boat for our first real sleep in the last 40 hours.
Sunday started as a gray morning. The wind was still blowing about 20 out of the south-southwest, and the swells remained at 10 feet. However, the weather report called for conditions to steadily improve over the next several days. We were all moving slowly this morning, but we were at the fuel dock when they opened at 1000. Just as we finished topping off the tanks, the Coast Guard lowered the restriction on the bar to boats under 30 feet, so we cast off and were on our way back out to sea at 1030.
The bar crossing was rough, and the ocean was anything but calm. However, it was still much improved from yesterday. We motored throughout the day, hard into the wind and waves. By around 1700, the wind had clocked far enough around to the west that we were finally able to turn off the engine and begin sailing. At dusk, Mother Nature treated us to a spectacular light show. Large cumulus clouds had been building all day along the coastline, and the setting sun was turning them into orange and pink fireballs. Just as the colors started to fade, lightning bolts began leaping from cloud to cloud, lighting up the entire sky in a grand finale of brilliant white flashes. Fortunately, we were cruising at about 12 miles off the coast, well out of the range of the thunderheads. We were able to watch the show without being too nervous.
We were finally able to settle in to our planned system of four hour watches. There would always be two people on watch. The watches were staggered, so a fresh person came on watch every two hours. Although the nighttime watches seemed long, and the nighttime rests seemed short, this system worked very well for us.
The weather became rather predictable along the northern California coast. Around midnight, we would get caught in rather thick fog, which would last until mid-morning. Then it would be clear and sunny for several hours, until the NW wind picked up in mid-afternoon. We had great sailing conditions until dusk, when the fans would just shut off, and the fog would begin building again.
Reggae is a cruising boat, and does not have a spinnaker, so most of the time we were sailing wing-on-wing. However, we tried several other sail configurations, including hooking up a second genoa to the forestay, which actually worked pretty well. And flying a staysail borrowed from another boat by attaching it to a cleat on the foredeck, which didn’t work so well. It kept us busy changing sails, though, and we were able to keep the boat moving along at 6-7 knots.
We had several encounters with sea life during these days. We saw at least 15 gray whales, mostly in singles or pairs. The closest was less than 100 feet off our starboard beam. It gave us quite a show by lifting its tail totally out of the water before diving. We also saw several sharks lazily floating near the surface, appearing to be sleeping. They were mostly in the four to six foot range in length. The best experiences, though, were when we sailed into large pods of porpoises. There were well over 100 animals in a fairly small area. When they saw us coming, they would all swim over to investigate. There would be at least 20 animals trying to jump our bow wave at the same time! I could not believe that they were not bumping into each other.
Passing the entrance to San Francisco Bay, we took inventory of our fuel supplies, and realized that we were getting low. If the weather conditions remained constant, and we could sail at least half of the time, we could make it to San Diego. However, if we had to do more motoring, then we would run out. We decided to make a quick stop at Monterrey to take on additional fuel.
We were just outside the entrance to the harbor at sunrise, and by 0700 we were pulling up to the fuel dock. There we were met by a friendly marina employee, who told us that the fuel dock did not open until 0800, but that it would be okay for us to stay here until they opened. After six days on the boat, we asked if they had shower facilities that we could use. She showed us where the shower was located, and unlocked the door so we could get in. As we were milling about outside, deciding who got to shower first, another marina tenant/employee came along. He proclaimed that this facility was not for the use of dirty sailors. As testosterone levels increased, further pleasantries were exchanged. Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed, we retreated back to our boat, got our fuel, and got the heck out of there!
The rest of the day was a beautiful cruise past Carmel and Big Sur. This stretch of coastline is absolutely spectacular. If you ever get the chance to visit this area, don’t pass it up. Further south, we were forced to stay within three miles of the coast due to a Naval Operations Area. We finally rounded Point Conception, picked up the afternoon breeze, and headed southeast towards the Channel Islands. From there, it is a straight shot to Catalina Island. After having seen only two or three boats a day for the last week, it was quite a shock to suddenly have pleasure boats everywhere. We cruised past the north coastline.
The last leg from Catalina Island to San Diego held one last surprise for us. An aircraft carrier was conducting maneuvers in the vicinity. They hailed us on the radio, and told us to maintain a four mile distance from their vessel. It appeared that they were going to pass well to the north of us, so we altered course a little to the south to ensure that we would stay well outside of the four mile range. Two facts are pertinent to the next series of events. An aircraft carrier cruises at 25-30 kts, even faster when they really want to get somewhere. We can do about 6.2 kts with the Yanmar really revved up. When the carrier turned south, there wasn’t much we could do about it. We doubled back and headed west, but still were only about two miles away from the carrier when it passed. They must not have felt too threatened by us though, as we were not fired upon.
In any long trip, it seems like the last few miles take the longest. Day turned into night and we were able to pick out the lighthouse on Point Loma, but it took forever to get there! With all the background lights, it was very difficult to pick out the entrance channel markers. Eventually we found them, and made our way into the harbor. At just after midnight Sunday morning, we tied up to the check-in dock in the Shelter Island area.
There was one thought on our minds: Refreshments! We headed onto shore looking for an establishment that was still open, and that would have cold beer. We finally located a lounge in a motel. It had been nine days since we left Cathlamet, and over 1,000 miles. Congratulations! We made it!
“Hey, Bartender. Where are the restrooms?”
“Go to the end of the bar, and turn left …”
Colin Robertson, Sparrowhawk