Sailor Life

Home in SF, anchored 200 yards from where I work...the morning commute's gonna be about as lovely and ideal as one could imagine. Many thanks again to Mark for making it all possible.

Blog Pasta

There´s just no way I can recap all that I´ve been up to, so I´m not even going to try. Sorry, folks. I´m just not motivated to write everything down, it´s so time consuming! Actually, I guess it would be more accurate to say I´m not motivated to write ANYTHING down, since I haven´t updated this dinosaur for almost 2 months! Here´s what I´ve been up to:
Jumping off waterfalls in Montezuma
Surfing in Malpais
Mountain Biking and Bouldering in Boquete
Zip lines, rope swings, and hanging bridges in Monteverde Cloud Forest
Ridiculous partying and bachanalia in Puntarenas during Carnival
Slack lining and soccer juggling for Puntarenas sunsets
Hilarious jam sessions with the Puntarenas crew (ukulele, mess kit, pringles cans, voices, etc.)
Lots of busses
Eating Casados, a cheap, delicious, filling local dish of rice, beans, meat, and salad, $3.00
Eating lots of fresh fruit
24 hours of pooping every 15 minutes (not fruit related)
Dancing in clubs and some more random places
Practicing Spanish with lots of locals
Monkey watching and iguana dodging in Manuel Antonio National Park
Snorkeling, tanning, and surfing in Bocas del Toro
Dipping in Hot Springs in Boquete
Coffee tour of, literally, the best coffee in the world. 3 times international gold medal winner. Tastes pretty good. Coffee!!!
Learning how to keep in touch with my friends. Still learning.
Hacking (the sport, not the cough), eating tuna, reading, visiting gardens, exploring, hiking, experimenting with super cheap cooking, torturing a cat (training, we call it), growing a mustache, and I´m burnt out on trying to remember more.
Gotta run, I´ve got a Dutch card game to try and learn. I´ll update more later. If you´re reading this, that means you care about me. Thank you! Much love to all, even those who aren´t reading this and don´t care about me.

Pura Vida

Where to begin...
I want to avoid creating a cliche travel blog that speaks of tropical weather, waterfalls, beaches, fresh fruit, and a ridiculously leisurely life...but that´s exactly what I´m doing, so it´s kind of unavoidable. I arrived in the Costa Rican airport in the evening, slept in a corner, caught a taxi and a bus the next morning, and walked from the bus station to John´s house and got there at about 8:30am that morning. John walked home from class a couple of hours later, we had a joyful reunion, and then we got on a bus with some kids from his language school and took a ferry to Monteverde where we hiked to a gorgeous waterfall and jumped off rocks and loved the cool refreshing water--it´s hot here. All the time. I sleep with no covers every night. Then we slept on the beach, woke up, cracked open some coconuts and drank the water, then jumped in the ocean for a nice morning splash. Ridiculous. Back in Puntarenas, we set up the slack line (similar to tight rope walking) every night for sunset on the beach and good times. Unfortunately, I broke my pinky toe on my first attempt. Ouch. It´s almost better, now, after limping for a few days.
And the produce...it´s everywhere, and it´s cheap. Yesterday we found the best mango spot, with the coolest mango man in town. He cut up a bunch for us to taste, told us how to tell if they´re ripe or not, and after we bought 10 (50 cents each) he threw in 3 for free and cut up some more for us to eat. There´s also cantaloupes, watermelons, papayas, grapes, strawberries, apples, tasty crisp little green guys that are kind of like pears, platanos, and all types of vegetables. Smoothies every day, it´s amazing.
I´m sleeping on John´s floor right now, and working on building an extra platform for my very own bed. His roommates are super mellow, and they love me and said I can stay as long as I like. Most of the people in his program are doing home stays, but he met up with another kid in the airport and they decided to get a house with some other students, and so they have one of the only houses without a host family in the whole program--which means, of course, that it is the party house. There are people there all the time. It´s fun a lot of the time, but sometimes we all just want to mellow out and study and read, and there´s always people coming over trying to hang out. But, in the end, I think it´s worth it. Last night I broke out the ukulele and John brought out some pots and pans and we had a freestyle jam session, everybody taking turns singing lyrics or making nonsense sounds, for about 30 min. Good times. Pura Vida.
John and I also set up some conversation partners at the local university, so we go and practice our Spanish skills every week. It´s a huge help! And I met one of their professors last night, too. He was hanging out with us on the beach while we were slack lining, and he came back to our house for the jam session. He gave me some impromptu lessons, and told me to come by his office today to pick up some materials for grammar exercises. He told me that I spoke very well and that I just needed to practice, but that grammar can be very helpful and so he has some materials for me. Good deal!
Life is good here. Things are much more relaxed, I´m much more relaxed, I´m doing things that I love like exploring beautiful places and meeting people and making spontaneous music, my Spanish is improving, the food is delicious, cheap, and plentiful, and I´m just living day to day, letting life brew up what it will, pursuing what I´m inspired to pursue...it´s beautiful. I´ve started meditating in the mornings and doing yoga, and cultivating a more peaceful inner Glenn--very important, if you´ve ever spent some time in my head. Kinda spooky in there.
Gotta run, our conversation partners await!

Mission Bay to Ventura--SOLO!

This next leg of the journey was about 120 nautical miles as the crow flies, 160 nm as the boat sails. It turned out to be 36 hours at sea. I don't know where to begin. If you've never spent 36 hours at sea as the captain and crew and sole occupant of a small craft....well....it's not for everyone. I'm not even sure it's for me. For the first 6 hours I was cursing up and down the deck, blaspheming the sport of sailing, and generally screaming at the world. I can't remember the last time I was so frustrated and annoyed. The weather report had said there would be a west wind, which would have been great because I could have held a nice port tack all the way up the coast, never needing to adjust the sails or really do anything. But, as the fates would have it, I got a northwest wind, a wind coming directly out of the direction in which I wanted to be heading. Now, it's not impossible to sail into a headwind--all you have to do is cut across the wind at about a 45 degree angle, back and forth, back and forth, covering about 3 times as much distance as you would otherwise have to, and working about 5 times as hard. No, make that 10 times as hard. Which is exactly what I did. And nothing was easy. My lines were always crossed or hung up, the auto pilot was screwing up, the swell was coming directly out of the west, broadsiding the boat most of the time, and I was moving at a paltry 3 knots--and not even in the direction I wanted to go! Screaming. At everything. Cranky Glenn. It's a good thing I was alone. Brady, remember when you were sailing and I was sleeping, and I woke up because you were standing on the cabin top cursing? Then you finally stopped cursing, got real quiet for a few seconds, and then screamed? Sorry I laughed.
After the first 6 hours, the winds calmed down a bit, which made it less difficult to make headway in a northwesterly direction. Around midnight, the winds died altogether--not a breath. So I fired up the motor and set a course, then went below and slept fitfully, waking every hour or so to make sure there weren't any cargo ships bearing down on me. I was able to get enough sleep to be alert when the sun came up and the winds picked up again, and I was able to sail the rest of the way to Ventura. For this leg, I was singing, talking to myself, and praising the joys of being alone on the ocean, captain of my own vessel, master of my world.
So, I can't say one way or the other how I feel about solo sailing. At times I absolutely despised it, and at times I absolutely loved it. In retrospect, I feel much more capable and confident on the ocean, and I feel a bit more salty as well. It was a good experience, and I made it to Ventura safely, where my boat is currently docked, safe and sound, for the next few months.

How do I feel about all of this? Let's reflect for a moment, shall we? Back in....August? Brady and a I shared a brief moment of wide eyed optimism at the crazy idea of finding a boat and sailing it to Mexico. Between the two of us, we had a sum total of very little experience. A kind man recognized this passion and basically gave me his boat--the only feasible way this dream could have been possible, really. After a month of practicing and taking lessons on the San Francisco Bay, and after another month of fixing the boat up to make it ocean ready, we held a party and invited our friends to see us off, and the next day we set sail--for adventure! To Mexico!
And by gum, we made it. No one died. We didn't destroy the boat, or anything else. We had an epic adventure, an experience I wouldn't trade for anything (well, maybe I'd trade it for the spontaneous collective evolution of our species. Maybe). A whole new world--the world of sailing, boating, cruising, and all of the crazies that go with it--has opened up to us. And we've got stories for a lifetime.
Was it anything like we expected it to be? No, not really. Did we get as far as we wanted to? Definitely not. But we accomplished something that many said we couldn't. I have no regrets--no, more than that, I feel triumphant. And, perhaps most importantly, I developed a deeper connection with an old friend, and the value of that is priceless. We're still on emailing terms, even.

What's next? Well, for the past few days, I've been enjoying the bottomless hospitality of the Neuman family, Michaela's folks here in Ventura. They have taken me in, cleaned me up, and talked me down from the heights of my sea-fever, to the point where I am now able to interact with regular people again. I found out that I've got an old friend in Costa Rica right now, and learned that there are many high quality language schools down there--not to mention volcanos, rain forests, and great surf--and so last night I bought myself a one-way ticket! I leave Wednesday, and I return... sometime. I'll be in California next summer for the weddings of some of my dearest friends, and that's the only deadline I've got. Unless a financial deadline makes itself imperative. Which reminds me, I'm accepting donations. Simply contact my financial advisor (mom) at 510-531-2726 for all of your donation needs. All tax deductible. Just request a receipt.
Thanks to everyone who has supported our adventure thus far. If I've learned anything, I've learned that a strong network of wonderful friends and family is one of the most valuable things I can strive for. I am truly blessed.

Slab City

In the summer of 2006, Krystal and I got a ride across the country, from Flagstaff to North Carolina, via a craigslist connection, Esteban. Knowing he lived in San Diego, I gave him a call while I was anchored in Mission Bay, and he told me he was taking off the next evening to go to Slab City. Folks, if you don't know anything about Slab City, I highly recommend a visit. It is a crazy trailer refuge out in the desert outside of San Diego, where a bunch of crazies set up camp on BLM land and scrape by. They have an outdoor "stage" set up, which consists of a plywood platform framed by a couple of derelict trailers, with rows and rows of decrepit greyhound seats lined up for the audience. Well, we went out there for their famous talent show, where a bunch of old guys and gals get up on stage and play classic rock, folk songs, and whatever else comes to mind. Any aspiring writers should be sure to do some character research here.
After a few hours and a few beers, one of the wandering recruiters convinced me to get up on stage and play a few, so I did, and I got Esteban to come up and play his harps (its never hard to convince him) and asked a couple of old ladies to sing harmony with me, and we put on a little show. What fun. I'm terrified of the stage, but I love it too. 2nd time ever. We did pretty good.
I wish I could send you guys some pictures, but unfortunately my camera has not yet woke from the dead. I don't think it ever will. I'll try and pick one up to keep my readership visually stimulated.

San Diego to Mission Bay

When I ran out of days at the Public Dock in San Diego, I moved the pleasure yacht Kalakas north about 15 miles to Mission Bay, a small little bay with a few harbors but, more importantly, a free anchorage area. The 3 hour journey from San Diego to Mission Bay was my first solo sail on the Ocean--a nice introduction to the new challenges sailing short handed offers. The trip would have been uneventful if it weren't for one little detail I let slip my mind. Cruising out of San Diego Harbor--where I was assaulted by the Harbor Patrol one last joyous time for being within 1/2 mile of an approaching, invisible sub--I set up the auto pilot and lay back for a relaxing motor sail north up the coast (unfortunately, there wasn't quite enough wind to make reasonable progress). I was just entering a blissful state of relaxation when I heard the engine throttle down unexpectedly, running a bit rough. Oh no. Not again. I jumped up and took a quick look at my surroundings to assess what the problem could be. There are so many variables in ocean boating, especially sailing, and so you have to get used to juggling all the myriad little details that must be attended to: What's the wind doing? Where's it coming from? How about the swell? Is the auto pilot set properly? Any boats in my way? What course should I be setting? Any sunken obstacles? Shipping lanes? How's the canvas look? Adjusted properly? How much battery life do I have left? Fuel? How's the oil pressure? Is the engine cooling water running freely? Any lines dragging in the water? And so on and so forth. Well, I took a gander, and realized that I had unwittingly sailed right into the middle of a kelp bed. Not too much of a problem if you've got a good strong wind to push you through, but if you don't and you're running the motor, you're in trouble. Kelp wraps around the prop and can stall the motor, or render the prop useless unless you dive and clear it. The kelp can clog up the engine cooling water intake, blocking water from cooling the motor, fouling the impeller and the cooling passages, you can lose maneuverability and drift freely...many problems. Quick as a whistle I shut off the motor, which had slowed when the prop got wrapped in kelp. I caught it quick, so there was a good chance I wouldn't have to dive, but that was yet to be determined. First things first, how do I get out of the kelp bed? Luckily, there was just enough wind to give me enough forward momentum to drift out of the bed at about a half a knot. So I bobbed and drifted for about 15 minutes and finally made it clear, avoiding a crab boat that was close to my path. Once out, I fired up the motor in neutral and saw very little cooling water coming out of the engine. Great. Figuring I was going to have to dive to clear the intake, I gave it one desperate shot and swept the boat hook around in the water, scraping it along the hull in the general area of the intake. Cleared! Thank goodness. Next, put it in reverse to try to unwind the kelp. Not bad. I used the boat hook again and pulled up the kelp that was obviously trailing behind the boat by the prop, and pulled on it good and hard and got it free. Lucky. Try forward...no stalling...seems ok...good! Sweet relief. I can tell you, I was not excited about jumping into the 50 degree water, alone, behind the drifting boat, to dive below and try to mess around under there. I'd done that once in Punta Banda where I had to cut an errant dock line loose from the prop shaft where it had become entangled. Buck naked, I might add, while Liam's uncle and sisters watched. Argggh, maties!
So, without further shenanigans, I got the boat the rest of the way to Mission Bay, anchored single handedly (Brady, you can appreciate how difficult that was), and spent a couple of uneventful nights at anchor while waiting for a weather window to get up to Ventura, where I found an affordable slip.

Down Time

Ahhhh, there's nothing like finding a passion, giving it everything you've got, and then enjoying the benefits of your hard work. That's exactly what I'm doing, here in beautiful.....San Diego. Oh, sweet San Diego. I relish the moments I've spent at your Police Dock, the miles I've walked over and over again from the remote location of the Public Dock to the nearest bus stop, and your complete lack of accessible, affordable marinas. I'll cherish these days forever.
Anybody want to live on a boat for 4-6 months? All you have to pay is the slip fee, which in San Diego, is reasonably priced at just %150 more than the slips in the Bay Area! What a deal? Ok, so maybe my tone is a bit sarcastic. Frankly, I'm a just a wee bit frustrated with the boating facilities in San Diego. Since Brady decided to move on from the sailing profession, and since I didn't have any luck finding a replacement (honestly, who could?) I've decided to put the boat in storage for the remainder of my travel time. I seriously considered sailing solo around the tip of Baja and up into the Sea of Cortez, but it's a pretty long journey (twice the distance we already covered) and there are virtually no facilities between Ensenada and Los Cabos, nor is there a reliable Mexican rescue fleet, nor are there reliable weather reports on the VHF (you need a single side band receiver to get good weather reports). All things considered, I decided against risking my life in Mexican waters. Another note, I really like my boat, and I wouldn't be able to sail it back to the US from the Sea of Cortez in time to be home for summer. If I did make it to the Sea of Cortez, I'd most likely be leaving my boat there in Guaymas, where you can dry dock it for about $100 a month, an amazing deal. But then, I wouldn't have access to my boat back in SF, and I'd really like to live on it when I get home. So, I'm looking for an affordable marina in which to keep the boat for a few months. It's looking like I'm going to have to single-handle the boat back up north a ways, maybe to Ventura, where there are some affordable slips.
Once the boat is safe and sound, I think I'll probably head to Mexico City, maybe on a flight, maybe on a bus, and get to Guadalajara where I've heard about a good language school. I think I'd really like to do a language program. What better way to get to know a place, and really be able to interact with the people? The program has a home-stay option, which could be pretty epic, too. One of the reasons I decided to go to on this adventure was to learn Spanish. My Spanish has improved quite a bit since getting to Mexico, but I still can't really have a real conversation with people. I can get around and get what I need, but true communication is still pretty difficult. So, if anyone has any suggestions for other language schools, send them my way.
So, that's the logistics update. What have Brady and I been up to, you may ask? We toured all over Baja with Liam and Kristen, stopping off on both coasts--the Sea of Cortez for beauty and tranquility, and the Pacific side for surfing and ocean grandeur. We had an amazing time. Baja is truly gorgeous. Sadly, it is in the throws of being discovered and exploited by the affluent population of the good ole US of A. Land everywhere is being sold to gringos, and new developments are springing up like crazy. We passed several sleepy little towns, as Liam and Brady remember them from years past, that now have a full fledged paved road, complete with street lights and roundabouts, running along side new sub-divided lots with sidewalks and driveways and nothing else, just ready for a new summer home. It's pretty crazy. Now is the time to invest in Baja property, that's for sure.
When Liam and Kristin were ready to head back up north, Brady and I stayed on in La Paz at a nice little hostel called Pension California, $23/night for a double with your own bathroom/shower. Not bad. Certainly luxurious after sleeping on the beach for a couple of weeks. La Paz is a really nice city. The people don't seem jaded by too many gringos (yet) and everyone was very nice to us. Actually, we kind of felt like celebrities. At least I did. We met some other travelers at the hostel, and we went out on the town for a couple of nights to party like rock stars. We went to this one place called "The Jungle," which is a great spot to go to if you like to stand shoulder to shoulder with a lot of groups of friends and listen to loud music with no dance floor. Sadly, that's not exactly what Brady and I were looking for, so we wandered around a bit and met some Mexican girls who took us to the legit place. This place was awesome! There was confetti all over the floor, and an 8-piece Mexican band with an awesome horn section and your typical wailing singer. Everybody was doing the Mexico two-step, and Brady and I were promptly snatched up by some girls and we spent the next 4 hours or so dancing the night away with the local ladies. Great night. Brady left a little before me, and when I finally came back to the hostel he was sleeping on the couch in the lobby(I had our only key. Sorry Brady).
From La Paz, we started hitch hiking rides back north to get back to the boat. Getting a ride out of La Paz was a snap, and this nice kid who was working on a sport fishing boat gave us a ride north about 200 miles to Villa Insurgentes where his mom made us all sandwiches. Then, he decided to keep on going north to Loreto to "get some supplies," but I think he was really just helping us out. Thanks, Chris. What a guy.
If you're ever in Baja, avoid Loreto like the plague. It's filled with criminals and cops. At first glance, it looks like a lovely little town, but we got ripped off 3 times in one night, and the next day when we tried to get a ride out of town, we spent 12 hours on the freeway with not a single ride. Then, a drunk guy tried to pick a fight with us and threatened to call up his buddies in the Mexican military (the Federales) and tell them to come mess with us. Finally, we walked back into town and caught a bus to Mulege, my personal favorite town in Baja. We enjoyed Mulege for a night and a day, and then caught a bus to Ensenada where we runited with Emilio, the friendly Mexican fisherman who was watching my boat for me. I don't think I've mentioned Emilio in the blog yet, have I? Oh, Emilio. I could go on about Emilio for hours.
We first met Emilio when we anchored for the first time off of Punta Banda. We were lounging on deck, soaking up the sun, when Emilio "rowed" by. I use the term "rowed" loosely, because Emilio's oars were about the most pathetic boat propulsion devices imaginable. Brady wants to put them in a museum. He and Brady chatted for a bit, and then Emilio slowly rowed off to catch some fish. The next time we met Emilio was on Christmas morning. The swell had picked up, and where the boat was anchored was a bit too close for the surf zone, so we went down to the place where all the local fishermen, or "Pangas," anchor their dingies to see if we could get a ride to the boat. The surf was too big for our little dinghy. Being Christmas morning, there was no one around to ask for a ride--no one, that is, but Emilio and his brother. And they were piss drunk at about 10am. I can't really repeat what he may have been saying to us, because I couldn't understand a word of it, but Brady surmised that he had a friend who could maybe take us, so he got in the car with us to direct us to his friend's house and immediately passed out. Every 5 minutes or so we'd nudge him and he'd just say, "derecho, derecho," which means "straight, straight." Eventually, we turned off the road onto a ridiculously steep dirt road that went up the hillside, and after making 8 or 9 turns (I swear we went in a circle at least once), we drove by a house that looked empty and Emilio told us that his friend wasn't there. By this time, I was getting pretty nervous about my boat, since the tide was going out and the surf was getting closer to the boat. We took Emilio home and went back to the Casa McAuliffe, and Brady and I put on wetsuits and decided to try to paddle the two kayaks at the house through the surf zone. Liam later told us that he would have bet 100 bucks that we wouldn't get out. But we had to get out. No one was going to give us a ride, and the boat was going to get tossed on the beach by waves. So, we tackled the mighty surf, and after getting completely tossed and washed all the way back to shore, we finally made it out, paddling like mad to make it past that last wall of water before it broke on our heads, and moving the boat safely to a better anchorage.
The third time we saw Emilio was when Brady and I took some of Liam's family out for a pleasure/fishing cruise. We went back down to the same little Panga area, where Emilio lives in a little yellow house with his aging mother and his brother, found Emilio, and asked him to give us a ride to our boat. He told us that he'd be happy to, but that his friend had taken his gas tank so he'd have to row us out there. Well, sure, ok. We all pile in this old wooden boat that looks as though it was raised from the deep and fiberglass-patched to help it hold together a bit better, and Emilio proceeds to row us the 1/2 mile out to the bobbing boat. He just stood there facing forward, quietly and patiently rowing us all out to the boat. After a day of sailing and fishing, we came back and anchored, and there was Emilio, rowing out to us to pick us up. That man is so kind and patient and humble, I really have to respect him for that. He was always so good natured and eager to help us out. Of course, we gave him some money for his services.
When we decided to anchor the boat and go on the road trip, we anchored it right in front of Emilio's house (the best anchorage in the area), and waited for the pre-arranged ride back to the shore. And waited. And waited. The wind had picked up quite a bit, and the swell had built as well. We waited. Brady started inching towards his favorite corner of the boat, where he spends most of his time when things are getting rough. No Emilio. Liam showed up in his car, ready to pick us up for the road trip, and talked to Emilio. Waves too big. Can't pick us up. So sorry, so sorry. Sigh. So, we pumped up our little inflatable (the one that leaks air and takes on water) and battened down the hatches, lashed our bags in the boat, and set off with our little plastic oars to tackle the surf, again. The wind was blowing, and the swell was big, but we felt pretty secure in our dinghy. Granted, we pretty much knew from the start that, once we got into the surf zone, we were going over. But we were ready for that. Everything was lashed into the boat, and our valuables were in the dry bag. Here comes the surf. We're gonna go over, Brady. Yeah, I know Glenn. Here it comes! Keep the boat straight! We're riding it, we're riding it....we're turning sideways, we're turning sideways....Whoa!! (Splash). Flip the boat back over! Flip the boat back over! Where are the oars?! We got them both? Ok, let's get to shore! No, no, don't get back in the boat, the water's only up to our chests. Hey, what's this in my pocket? Oh, it's my cell phone. Oops. And what's this? Ah, of course, my camera. Why didn't I put those in the dry bag? Oh yeah, mind clouded by adrenaline. Sigh. Hi, Liam. Yeah, we're ready, let's go. Slosh, squish, slosh, squish....
We left the dingy with Emilio, and paid him some money to keep his eye on the boat. There was another boat anchored in the same area, actually, but Emilio didn't know whose it was. Well, it turns out that whosever it was, they weren't very good seamen, because when Brady and I returned 3 weeks later and saw that our boat was in the exact same place we left it, but the other one was gone, Emilio let us know (faithful Emilio, who had watched our boat bob through 3 days of stormy wind and waves) that the other boat had dragged anchor and beached on shore, where it was promptly raided of all valuables and scrapped. Ouch. I don't envy that boat owner.
Emilio had guarded our dinghy for us for 3 weeks, and kept watch over our boat during the rough weather. He rowed us out to our boat many times, and he made us welcome in his meager home whenever we may return. Thanks for everything, Emilio. Best wishes.
So, after parting ways with Emilio for the last time, we sailed the boat to Ensenada, cleared out of Mexico, and split for San Diego, all in the same day. After a day in San Diego, Brady had finalized his plans for his 3 week stint to Argentina, where warmer weather and a beautiful women await him, and he flew out the next day. Thus ends the misadventures of Captain Howe and First Mate Brady Lang. May they have many more adventures in the future. Perhaps the Sea of Cortez is in our future in the next year or two, who can tell?
And now I sit in an internet Cafe in San Diego, awaiting emails from harbors and marinas, trying to find a home for Kalakas for the next few months. I met a couple of kids in the harbor the other day, and we've been hanging out. Two guys. Just bought a boat together. Getting ready to sail to Mexico. No sailing experience. Life is funny like that, eh? The march of the adventurous, clueless spirit goes on indefinitely. I gave them all the advice I could, from the weeks of working on the boat to the weeks of planning to the weeks of sailing. I even lent them some of my boating guides, since they didn't have any. Keep them in your thoughts, they'll need all the positive energy we can muster. I daresay they're even more clueless than Brady and I were, if that's possible. They didn't hesitate to tell me that my story gives them much hope for their own success. I told them to stop by and tell Emilio I said hello.
So there, I updated the blog. Whew. Sorry for the long delay. I'll keep everyone posted on whatever comes my way. If anyone wants to sail from San Diego to Ventura, that may be happening. If anyone wants to live on my boat for a half a year and pay the slip fees, that's an option, too. My cell phone took a nice 3 week break from functionality after it's salt water bath, then enjoyed a 3 day period of rejuvenation, and now it seems to be sick again. So, if anyone wants to get in touch with me, email continues to be the best option. All my love to all my dear friends and family!

Trials and Tribulations

Since Liam´s poetic post, Brady and I have left the ocean for a road trip down into the deserts of Baja, courtesy of Liam and his lovely novia, Kristen. We´ve been soaking up sun on the beach, marveling at the wonders of the desert, hiking into the hills, swimming, enjoying the cutest little Baja del Sur towns you could ever dream up, and, of course, gorging on tacos. The future of my travels are uncertain at this point. First mate Brady Lang is jumping ship (which, as Darren tells me, is punishable by hanging) and I am unwilling to push on south without a first mate who is committed to rounding the southern tip of the Baja peninsula, as there is nowhere I could leave my boat between Ensenada and there in the event that I need to quit (crew leaves, boat breaks, money runs out, etc.) So, I am faced with the decision of either finding new crew--a distinct possibility-- or parking the boat in San Diego and proceeding by land. Both possibilities, thankfully, are very alluring. So, if any of you wonderful people have been watching the progress with envious eyes, your time has come. If you´re interested in crewing on the sailing ship Kalakas, drop me an email, or just respond to this blog, and we´ll see what we can work out.
Regardless of whether I push on by sea or by land, I feel good about what Brady and I have accomplished together, and I am excited for whatever the future may hold for me. I must admit, though, that on this little road trip I have glimpsed the beauty and tranquility of the Sea of Cortez, and it breaks my heart just a little bit every time I see some sailboat anchored in the bay where we are camped on the beach. If any of you ever thought about doing what we´re doing, I can only say, do it. It is so worth it. There are countless beautiful little sheltered bays, the weather and the water are gorgeous, and the Sea of Cortez is a boater´s paradise.

Best wishes to everyone!

Casa McAuliffe

Brady is down the beach attempting to procure a ponga, a small fishing boat, that will shuttle a load of us out to the sailboat for a fishing trip. Glen sits contemplative and concerned before a computer screen, his profile framed by a glass wall. Beyond him large waves heave at the shore and their throaty sighs are the only sound. Here the sea is big vast and cold, and just by looking at it, by hearing it, by beholding it, the sea consumes you, spreads you into its vastness, untangles you and lays you bare before yourself, humbled. WIth a respectful fear of the sea, El Capitan Glenn, researches possible safe harbor further south down the coast. He mulls over the alarmingly scant information there is about these southern reaches. He knows there is desert, a few fishing camps, and not much else. Beyond this point in the journey there are no reliable places for repairs, no radio buoy forecasts, no rescue craft. The sea is big and building. Some forecasts call for swells as big as 32 feet. Will Glenn make a 300 mile dash to Guerro Negro, hoping that he can find long term moring in a harbor that is used primarily for small whale watching skiffs? It seems that without a window of favorable conditions in the forecast, the sailors have all but given up hope of sailing into the tropics. To compound the concerns of the captain, First Mate Brady, threatens to abandon ship. Will Darren who is thinking of joining the crew, and who may know nothing about sailing, claim the title of Numero Uno, and fueled by not but tequilla and enthusiasm, man Kalakas into the tropical, turtle infested waters of the Sea of Cortez. With these concerns heavy on the minds of our two brave sailors, I Liam, will chronical the last few days we have spent together.

Brady and I spoke over a month ago about the possibility of meeting and spending Christmas here in Mexico with my family, both thinking that it was a great idea but that there were so many variables between then and now that a meeting would remain just that, a great idea. But big winter swells and inexperience conspired to slow them down so that as my family's gringo caravan of SUV's was trundling down the dirt road to our Christmas Villa at Punta Banda, Glenn and Brady were pulling up anchor from their sheltered cove a mile down the beach and making ready to sail north in search of us. We gathered on the beach and waved them ashore as they sputtered and bounced through the shorepound in a little red dinghy. The full moon rose slowly out of the parched eastern mountains like a snowy peak, huge and surreal. The sky a 360 degree ring of gold fading up into purple and then into a dome of dusty blue. Since that evening it has been a GRANDE FIESTA!. Rarely is Brady spotted without a Tecate in his hand, a grin on his face, and one or a few of my sisters near enough to poke or push or place on his lap. For his part, Glenn has been more introspective, often solitary, looking out to sea, as if in silent conversation. Though it is not unusual to hear him singing a forlorn sailor song like "I left my girl in Kingston town" while strumming the eucaleli- that is if my Father hasn't told him to shut up yet. Jokingly of course. Both the boys have been soaking away the chill of cold nights on the boat in one or both of our jacuzzis. Occasionally we leave the Villa for tamale and tequilla gathering adventures or to view the mighty Buffadora- a huge blow hole.

The boys seem impressively comfortable in the ocean. Just yesterday, in an attempt to pull anchor and move the boat to more secure anchorage, they mounted sea kayaks and charged through overhead surf. I would have bet $100 that they wouldn't make it. I would have been $100 bucks poorer. And after they re-anchored the boat, they kayaked a few miles back bobbing like bath toys in a swell so big that it hid them from view. Eventually they tumbled ashore and into the hot tub, where they have left only to eat and sleep. The surf is up and I am out of words for now. Vaya con Dios amigos.
Claro que si!

Feliz Navidad!

I don't have much time for this one, as the computer is running out of batteries, so I'll make it short and sweet. First, a little tidbit of the state of mind of el capitan and numero uno upon arrival in Ensenada:

"Hopeless Romantics"

Ensenada Harbor, Baja Norte

Many fish tacos, a bottle of champagne (provided by los amigos de nuestras corozon en Oakland) and a little tequilla to boot.

Victory against all odds. Dos hermanos equipped only with only with an impossible dream. We have done it. Staring down death, stupidity, bankruptcy, frustration and dissapointment. The largest flag I have ever seen stares down at us from a huge fallice in a concrete square. Red, white, green with an eagle and a serpent. Quetezocotal manifested in a seal affirming our vicrory from above.

All of our doubts are reexamined in the light of our current state. Anything is possible with vision, will, and a little old fashioned bravado. Looking back we see and validate how udderly ridiculous (and foolish) our dream was. This serves to highten our awareness the present We would like to tell our friends and loved ones to dream large. Our most rediculous and beautiful dreams may be achieved if we let go of doubt and fear. Life is waiting. Carpe Diem.

We have not gone to the moon. We have not solved the problems that todays world faces. We have only begun to realize the human potential. Possibilites are endless, and are learning to surrender to the wind. Control, is seems is a human illusion. We spend our lives consumed with it. Where we will sleep, where we will get our next meal, and what is to become of the future. Anything is possible. We are only two men, in a border town, living our lives. It feels really good. A dram of tequilla to those we left at home. You are here, right now, on this boat, at this dock, drinking and loving with us. Dream big, hold nothing back. As ski bumbs have elloquated: “go big, or go home”.

Let me just do this:

Question: Why are you here?

Glenn: A worthy question. Why am I here............. To realize my potential.

Brady: I’m not sure. I would like to know what “freedom” really is.

End Transcription.

Now, we find ourselves in the care of the amazing hospitality of the McAuliffe family, the family of our good friend Liam (last time I saw him was strolling down the beach in Kalalau, Hawaii, but that is another story...). They have graciously taken us in for the holidays, and we have been getting to know the fascinating dynamics of a family with 1 pretty boy as the oldest son and 4 crazy blonde daughters, along with the rest of em'. It sure is nice to get off the boat and under a roof!

Gotta go, no batteries. Feliz Navidad a todo!

Glenn and Brady.

The wonder and glory of a border town

Brady Lang AKA "First Mate" AKA "Number One" at the bloghelm:

Ensenada. Tijuana´s older brother: a little more mature, but still a bastion of sin and depravity molded perfectly for the American´s tastes (or tastelessness). Actually its much better then I expected here, which is to say it doesnt entirely smell like feces, and the hustlers are much less pushy then expected. Ahh and the fish tacos.... oh my god the fish tacos....
For all of those doubters and disbelievers out there (myself included), doubt no longer: two amature "sailors" can indeed pilot a teeny tiny boat over 600 miles in the open ocean in december. I truly can´t believe that we made it.

No time for blogging... WE ARE IN MEXICO

Safe Passage, Monterey to Santa Barbara

This is going to be a long one, so decide now if you want to read the whole thing or just check out the pictures.

After being stuck in Monterey for an entire week, just waiting out bad weather, we finally got a window where the swell was under 8 feet and the wind under 20kt, and we took it. Our goal was to make it all the way around Point Conception and into Santa Barbara—a long stretch of sailing, about 215 miles. We usually go at about 5-7 nautical miles per hour (one nautical mile is about 1.15 statute, or regular, miles), so in 12 hours we can cover about 60-80 knots a day. So, we were looking at being under way for at least 40 hours. That means that we have to take it in shifts and catch some rest in between shifts if you can. Once you’re exhausted enough, the wild pitching of the boat in strong seas stops keeping you up. When the seas are that rough, we usually sleep on the floor in the galley since you’d end up there anyway if you were on a bunk, and the V-berth has the most violent motion of any place on the boat. As we were getting ready to leave, we were being very cautious about checking the weather, and we were also in touch with our pirate friend the “Mike-a-holic” back in Moss Landing because he is very plugged in to the fishing culture and knows lots of folks who know lots about the weather. We were feeling pretty good about the conditions—swell under 6 feet, and winds 15kt or less. Still, we were a little apprehensive since our first passage was so hair raising. The sail out of the bay was beautiful, but as the night got on the swell and wind picked up, and things weren’t too comfortable. Knowing what the boat could handle, I felt much better about things, but it’s hard to feel safe when the boat is rocking wildly with the ocean swell. When the weather picked up a bit more, we decided to drop the sails and turn on the motor. The boat seems to handle the swell a lot better under motor power, and the wind was right at our back again which meant we had to jibe back and forth across the wind, and in a strong wind you really don’t want to jibe if you can avoid it. So, we motored up and took turns at the tiller. We can only carry so much fuel on board, and so since we motored through the night we needed to stop at Morro Bay to refuel. When we rounded the point into Estero Bay, which is where Morro Bay is, the wind direction changed to an east wind, and since we were sailing east, we were headed right into the wind chop and the wind was blowing the spray right into the cockpit. Luckily for me, it was my turn at the tiller, so I strapped on my warm weather clothes and my foul weather gear (“foulies”) and took it in the face for the slow, 3 hour trek across Estero Bay and into Morro Bay.

By the time we rounded the corner into Morro Bay and got out of the wind, my eyes were burning from the salt water, my fingers were numb from holding the tiller in the cold spray, and I was mildly hypothermic (slurred speech), but I was feeling like a true salty sailor. I hadn’t really been able to sleep much the night before, so I was pretty delirious and exhausted. We fueled up, covered the boat with our wet clothes to dry them out, went into town and got some breakfast, and then went back to the boat and got ready for the sail around Point Conception and into Santa Barbara.

This is Russell. The fuel dock guy named him, and said he'd been hanging out with him at the fuel dock for 12 years. They shared a bond deeper than the ocean.

Now, in all honesty, Brady and I had now spent 36 harrowing hours at sea, and we were both having thoughts of abandoning this trip for something a bit more enjoyable. One can only spend so many hours staring death in the face before one decides to do something else with their time. But, on the other side of the coin, we were also getting better and better at this whole seamanship thing. We got much more prepared for this leg of the journey. We made a pot of coffee and put it in a thermos, we made up a batch of pasta so we would have something quick and easy to eat in between shifts (it’s impossible to cook anything when you’re in big seas), and we made a table of all of the Ocean Data Acquisition buoys (ODAS buoys on charts) and the current conditions reported by the buoys. I tell ya, that is a great resource. You can call up 888-701-8992 and punch in the 5 digit number for any buoy and the computer will tell you wind speed and direction as well as swell height and period.

They are updated every hour, so you can track whether the weather is building up or dying off or whatever. It’s amazing. We were calling every hour and comparing the swell heights and wind speed, and we determined that the weather was dying off, so we went for it. Since I had gotten about 2 hours of restless sleep the previous night, Brady took the first shift and I got some rest. I got a few good hours of sleep before Brady needed to get some rest, so I got my foulies on and went up topsides and relieved him. The next 3 hours or so were some of the most enjoyable I’ve spent on a boat in all my life! To start, the starts were absolutely beautiful. They had been on other nights, but I had been too pre-occupied (terrified) to enjoy them. I could see Orion lighting up the whole sky, and both of the Dippers and the North Star at my stern, and the Pleiades, Draco the Dragon, the Corona Borealis—and I probably saw a shooting star every couple of minutes! I’ve never seen so many, not even in a meteor shower. I also had plenty of time to sit and ponder my existence, something I don’t really take the time to do too often. I tend to keep myself busy with working, or playing guitar, or reading books, or just tuning out and watching a movie or something. But I had a lot to think about. I had recently stared death in the face for hours on end, twice now, and that really does change you. I don’t think I’ve ever faced my own mortality so bluntly and for such a long time. Sure I’ve thrown my body at high speeds towards hard things a number of times: riding a bike down 6 flights of stairs, skiing top speed straight down hill, skateboarding donw ridiculous hills and wiping out, jumping off 60ft. cliffs...but that all happens in the blink of an eye, and you’re pumped full of adrenaline. I think it’s instinctual to look to some higher power and ask for some protection when you’re in a situation like that, and that forces you to examine what your own perception of a higher power is. For me, I don’t really like to think of the divine as “him,” or as an entity at all, really. It feels to me more like the entire universe is pulsing with divine intention, and that we have the ability to tap into that and benefit from that interaction as well as give back our own positive influence into the grand cosmic scene, and help evolve the whole shebang a bit closer to harmony. Honestly, it’s not really very clear to me how I perceive these things yet. But I do know that I don’t like to anthropomorphize them. Which, honestly, poses a very real problem when you want to beg for your life! I don’t think the universe as I perceive it would really listen to such a desperate, selfish request. If it’s “all one,” as some may say, what difference does it make if this little part stays in this form? So, where does that leave me? I guess I have to come to terms with my own mortality and learn not to fear death, but to accept it as an inevitability. I suppose death at sea wouldn’t be all bad. You’d certainly be connected with the forces of nature on your way out, which can’t be all bad. (I hope my mom’s not reading this part. I know she is. Sorry mom.) Honestly, I don’t think I’m at peace with my own mortality. I don’t want to die at sea. I want to live! I want to experience this amazing journey of life and squeeze every drop out of it that I can, until I’m a shriveled old man, when all I’ll need is a rocking chair and a banjo and a little wooden shack, and maybe a canoe. A good friend of mine, Jeff Almon, sent me a book to read when I asked him about his views on the forces of the universe. It’s called, “No Death, No Fear.” Seems like I’m ready to read it, eh?

While I was having all of these thoughts, a pod of dolphins decided to come and play with the boat! They were charging right at the bow of the boat and then, at the last second, they must have dove down or something—but I swear, every time I was afraid I’d hit one. It was really special to see them right then, and they were so beautiful to watch. Big grey forms zipping along just under the water. It was really neat to see them under the water by starlight.

Sometime later that night we rounded Point Conception, supposedly one of the most dangerous stretches of water along the entire coast of California. We must have timed it perfectly, because the seas and the wind were both very peaceful, and we passed around the point with no problems to speak of. Finally. A peaceful passage. Ahhhhhh.....

As the sun came up, we entered the Santa Barbara Channel, which has very little swell and very little wind, so we enjoyed a peaceful, beautiful sunrise.

And then, the celebratory pancakes! Mmmm, thanks again for the Apricot Jam, mom. Since there was absolutely no wind, we turned on the motor and finished off the rest of the journey to Santa Barbara.

Santa Barbara Channel and Mountains.

Then, we had the most crushing experience anyone could have imagined. Our whole trip flashed before our eyes, and we saw our dream of sailing to Mexico go up in a puff of smoke. Just 4 miles away from the entrance to the Santa Barbara Channel, our trusty Universal Atomic 4 motor started making a new noise. No one wants their engine to make any extra noises. She started making an awful rubbing noise. I went into the galley and opened up the hatch and saw the last thing I wanted to see. Billowing white smoke coming out of the front of the engine. Motor ran out of oil. Say goodbye to the dream. Dream dead. No more. After such a triumphant, beautiful, successful, well-executed passage, we saw our vision come to a smoky, mechanical end. No motor, no Mexico.

This is me, moments after all this happened. I think I took it rather well...

I let out a few wails and a few choice phrases as I felt my heart sink into my shoes, and radioed the harbor to ask about getting a tow. They said that if we could get to within 1 mile of the harbor they would tow us in for free. The beauty of a sail boat is that you can still go without a motor. In fact, that’s the whole point. There was hardly any wind to speak of, less than 1kt, but it was enough to move us along at about 1kt. At that rate, it would have taken us 4 hours to get in. So, we inflated our trusty dinghy and strapped on our reliable motor, and lo and behold, the crappiest craft you could imagine turned into our rescue boat! We tried pulling, but that didn’t work, so instead we pushed, and I’ll be damned if that little dinghy didn’t push the 6,600lbs. boat along at 5kt!

During this emotionally charged time, Brady and I had some really good conversation. Interestingly enough, we both felt like there were certain things helping us along on this last passage, things that we had both been neglecting and that, when we finally paid attention to them, helped us have a safe passage. For me, it was a little painting that Krystal gave me. On our last night together in Oakland she gave me a water color painting that she had painted this past summer when we were in Seattle. It’s a nice little painting of some sailboats in Puget Sound, and we had taken some time to write down my intentions for this journey on the back, and in the middle of it all Krystal wrote “Safe Passage.” In the hustle to get out of the bay, I had stuffed the painting in with some other things I wanted to put up in the boat, but had neglected to put it up yet. When I found it I thought, “huh. That was stupid of me. Here I have this little charm to help us have “Safe Passage,” and I’m not even using it.” So I put it up before we left Morro Bay. And then we had a safe passage. Life is funny, isn’t it? Brady shared a similar experience, too, and we both laughed at how neglectful we can be sometimes.

So, we arrived in Santa Barbara Harbor, and talked things over. Okay, so, maybe the motor is dead. If it’s dead, we’re done. That sucks. If it’s dead, it’s probably a sign that we’re supposed to stop. It happened at too poetic of a moment not to be meaningful in some way, in my opinion. However, eternal optimists that we both are, we figured that maybe the motor wasn’t dead and that all we needed to do was to put oil in and go on our merry way. The next morning I contacted a local mobile mechanic and he came out to the boat the morning after that at 9am. Steve Vukas. Great guy. If you’re ever broke down in Santa Barbara, get Steve Vukas’ number from the harbor office. He’s extremely knowledgeable, especially about the Atomic 4, and very easy to work with. He told us that it was pretty likely that the engine was toast, but that we could put oil in it and fire it up and listen to it and see what happened. So, with the expert on hand, we put oil in the engine and fired it up. The first few sounds were discouraging, kind of clunky and rough, but after a few seconds she was running just exactly like always. Hallelujah! Alhumdulilaay! Yee haw! He told us that he hadn’t heard such a good sounding Atomic 4 for a very long time, and that we had just dodged a bullet and we should be happy to go on our way to Mexico. Beautiful. Sweet relief. Dream not dead. Dream alive and well. Sigh. He also didn’t charge us anything, and he gave us the phone number of a guy in Mexico who can help us out in any way possible if we get into any trouble. Thanks Steve Vukas. So many people have helped us, it’s really beautiful.

I should say a few words about the idiocy of letting your motor run out of oil. It’s idiotic. Don’t ever do it. I used to consider myself an expert mechanic. I’ve fixed just about everything there is to fix on most cars I’ve ever owned, including rebuilding an engine. I overhauled this engine, too, including acid flushing the cooling system, running a compression test, replacing the plugs, cap and rotor, points and condensor, and retiming the motor, taking off all the rust and repainting it, and replacing a few other parts. But this is the all time classic screw up. Funny, I never let any other motor run out of oil-I’m usually very good at checking on those things. And then I blew it with a 30 year old boat motor—the one motor that is virtually impossible to fix if you do happen to break it. Oops. Let’s never speak of this again. Thanks. Whew.

So, we’ve been in Santa Barbara for a few days now, and the weather looks like it’s on our side for the next leg of the journey, which will take us past LA and San Diego, and then......Vamos a Mexico! We’re so close....only about 250 miles away....that’s just 48 hours of sailing! If you’re reading this, put on some Marley for us and send us some positive vibrations. In particular, visualize the guts of our motor sparkling like new in their cool, refreshing oil bath. She likes it when you do that.

One last note...it’s time for this weeks Paulo Coelho quote! If you haven’t already, go read the Alchemist. I should be reading it right now, it’s so perfectly applicable to our adventure, but I’ve got this No Death No Fear book I need to read...

In The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho says that when you’re pursuing your dreams, at first things

go really well for you, kind of like beginner’s luck. Then, the universe challenges you in every way possible and tests you as rigorously as possible before you can realize your dreams. I feel you, Paulo.

This is a beautiful osprey that we saw perched on a masthead next to our boat. He's eating a piece of fish. This is for you, Jeremy.


I don't know what these Sea Lions are doing, but it's pretty cool.

Brokeback Sailboat

On our last night in Monterey we went out to listen to some Samba music at “Sly McFly’s.” The music was great and the club was pretty cool too. Brady and I are always trying to meet new people to spice things up a bit and we met some cool kids, Jenny Tonja and John.

I'll let the picture do the talking.

It really makes it easy to meet people when you can tell them, “yeah, we just sailed in the other day. We live on a boat. We’re on our way to Mexico. We’re cool.” They liked our story, and Jenny instantly labeled our adventure “Brokeback Sailboat.” Ha ha. We haven’t been at sea that long, yet. But it was fun hanging out with them, and after we left Sly McFly’s they took us to a birthday party for some random guy where I talked to an old wine salesman with a walrus mustache and where an up and coming opera singer performed “Happy Birthday” to the birthday boy and girl. Weird party, but it was pretty entertaining. Oh yeah, and there was this girl there who showed us her very own made up 80’s dance, “The Keg.” Next time you see me or Brady, ask us to perform it for you. It’s priceless. We took our new friends sailing on the Bay the next day, and saw thousands of jellies and enjoyed a really nice afternoon sail. It was John’s first time on a sailboat, and we felt pretty privileged to provide that experience for him.

We also got this great picture of Jenny “handling” the boat. She needed a little help, as you can see. Captain’s responsible for the boat at all times, ya know.

And the next day, off we sailed--to Santa Barbara, and beyond!

Day...?? Departure from the Void...

We managed to escape the desperate clutches of Moss Landing, barely escaping with our hopes and dreams still intact. We arrived in Monterey by night and, with a few of our newly learned pirating skills, courtesy of Moss Landing Mike, found an empty slip on the sly and avoided detection. Arrgh! Next morning, chef Brady whipped up some Krusteaz white bread pancakes which we made palatable with the addition of Mama Howe's local organic Apricot Jam. Mmmmm.
In keeping with our newfound Pirate lifestyle, we went to the Monterey Bay Aquarium and talked our way in for free: "Um, it's free for residents, right? Proof? Yeah, well, we live in the harbor, on a boat, so we don't have PG & E bills or anything, but I've got this harbor key..." Beautiful. For those who have never been, the Monterey Bay Aquarium is world class, with an admission fee to prove it. We spent a good part of our time in the aquarium in the theatre, watching 15 min. short movies for a good hour or so. Ah, the spoils of civilization. We went to the jelly fish exhibit and saw the same jelly fish that we had seen the day before, which were also prolific in our harbor.


Jelly fish are amazing creatures. Actually, they're just called Jellies. They're really not fish, if you didn't notice. We learned that the longest animal in the world actually isn't the Blue Whale, it's a sort of symbiotic community much like a Portuguese Man of War. A stomach gets together with a tentacle that gets together with some stingers, and they all get along and share food, and they can form chains more than 150ft. long. Crazy.

Monterey has been treating us well. We're spoiling ourselves a bit by staying in the harbor rather than anchoring. The Harbormaster told us that, with the recent big storms, anchoring conditions wouldn't be safe. My inexperience led me to take his advice, but looking out over the free anchorage, it looks fine to me. Ah well. It's nice to have shore power for our heater and outlets. And it's nice to be able to step off the boat and wander around town. Otherwise, we'd be using our dinghy, the most sketchy, unseaworthy craft I've ever set foot in.


That's about 4 inches of water in the bottom, and yes, one side is significantly deflated. Still, she floats, and the motor pushes her, and we can get around. I really love that dinghy. Brady irreverently named her the "SS Shitbucket," which I really have no defense against, and has stuck. She is a shit bucket. We've patched her up 4 times now, and every time we're done, some other hole shows up. Sigh. For $50, I really can't complain.

So, we're stuck here in Monterey for now, due to inclement weather outside the bay. First strong weather came down from the north, then up from the south, and now down from the north again. Morale was low for a while, as it seemed like we'd never get to Mexico, but it looks like a window of good weather it opening up beginning late Sunday or early Monday, so we're going to push on down to Santa Barbara around that time. You can check up on the weather yourself if you're interested:
http://www.nws.noaa.gov/om/marine/zone/west/mtrmz.htm
Monterey has been treating us well. We've spent most of our time lazing around the boat--reading books, playing dominos, doing a little bit of work here and there, playing some more dominos, eating...not a bad life. There's not much going on in Monterey in the winter time, which is both really nice and sometimes a bit slow. But it's a beautiful town, and we've been spending our time well. Tonight I think we're going to go see "The Golden Compass," a new movie made out of the popular children's series of the same name. I recently read the series and loved it, so I've got to go see the movie. The previews look good, but the reviews say otherwise. Maybe we'll be able to pirate ourselves in somehow.

I hope you're all enjoying this blog! It's the first time I've ever taken the time to write one, and I must say it's a lot of work, but it's the first step for me in getting better at keeping in touch with those I love. Most of you probably know how bad I am at that. Sorry. I love you all very much, whether I take the time to write or not. It's true. Don't be afraid to send an email or call anytime. I'll update again when we get to Santa Barbara or, at the latest, L.A. May the wind fill your sails and the seas be merciful!

Captain Howe

P.S. Here are a few more pictures, just for fun.


Here's Krystal and I on my first sail on Kalakas.


One of the joys of sailing is that you can make all kinds of new friends. Nelson, the handsome man sporting the blue life jacket, was a huge help to me in learning how to sail my boat.


Mama Howe in all her glory. She loves the boat. Thanks for the jam, mom.


"No guys, really, I think we can figure this out. Has anyone done this before?"


Life's not worth living if I can't be beautiful.

Moss Landing: The Trailer Park of the Sea

Arrghh!!! Avast!!!! Guest blogger, 1st Mate Mr. Lang at the Blogghelm. I swore I would never blogg but times change and I guess so do I...

Oh captain, my captian Mr. Howe and I did a little night time navigation and were led by the bright lights of a powerplant to the Godforsaken harbor of Moss Landing; where dreams and old boats go to die. Beware, pirates are real.


Moss Landing, self proclaimed "trailer park of the sea" by our local brother-from-another-mother Mike, aka "Mike-a-holic" ex surfing legend (fact or fiction?). Moss Landing is filled with salty characters of all description. Mike is the most bighearted and animated them all, which admittedly is saying quite a lot. Extremely generous and good natured if not at times rather inebriated and incoherent; at times a pretty deep guy. Multiple layers of an onion or the facets of a gem? Well its hard to say, but he didn't smell that bad so I'm going to say he's a gem. The freest person I have ever met. In these times of double-speak and overpatriotic zeal it is rather difficult to discern what freedom truly means. If it has ever existed, Mike is its personification. He is free from all ties with this world, existing on the fringes of society with no one to answer to except himself and his massive burnt out boat. "FREEEDOMM!!!!" he screamed at the climax of a blurry and drunken night on his boat. With this bold proclamation the word was reborn anew.

It was in Moss Landing also that I discovered the continued existence of real pirates. There was Cowboy the pirate that hooked us up with power. He wore a long grey beard, ragged clothes and Jolly Rodger dew rag, he seemed to speak exclusively in one word sentences. Another diamond in the rough was Ray, a drugsmuggling pirate of old. He told tales of his secret treasure troves hidden high in Bolivian caves and Canadian foxholes. He currentyl lives on a 24 ft boat without a mast and is saving his social security money in order to drink cases of Tecate and eventually get to South America. One of the nicest (if not legitimately crazy) people I have met.
While trying to receive more seasoned advice we kept telling people that we were inexperienced and had no idea what we were doing. Mike told us to never say that again: "You've made it this far, and I know what you've sailed and navigated through. Never say that again" I guess were doing alright so far. His other piece of advice was to "stop looking so Lake Oswego". For those of you who know Portland, you know what he means.

One of my happiest moments so far was when we escaped this place. The world is actually a beautiful and happy place outside of Moss Landing. After only two days I had almost forgot.

Hoist the main!! Cast the lines!! Southward ho! To Monterey in search of more stories, glory and plunder!

Day 1: Through the Golden Gate

We set off at 6:30am on November 30th, with a beautiful sunrise to start our journey.


Within the hour we were out of the Oakland/Alameda channel--which is good, because container ship traffic picks up right around 8:00, which can be a bit nerve racking. Large container ships being pushed around by tug boats, complicated by the Oakland Ferry boats, other small boat traffic, Coast Guard patrols....it gets ugly. Nowhere for a little sailboat to be tooling around. Once out in the open water of the bay, we raised canvas for the 1st time of our journey, and Brady sounded the ship's horn.

The sail across the bay was beautiful, and ideal. The winds were steady at about 10 to 15 knots and we were able to sail all the way to the Golden Gate. Interestingly enough, the winds died down right at the gate, and so we fired up the motor (inboard 25hp Atomic 4, very common engine) and motored out through the confused, mellow swell. Our first time out on the open ocean! Some would say we are fools. Two inexperienced sailors setting out on a multi-month journey with no ocean going experience. Sometimes, I would agree with that perspective. Other times, I prefer to call it courage. As we all know, there is a fine line between courage and stupidity. Brady and I find great joy in walking that line.
I need to digress for a minute to explain the circumstances under which we departed. We had been hanging out in Alameda working on the boat for about 3 weeks (a couple of months for me, 3 weeks for Brady and I together), my slip rent was up on Dec. 1st, we were ready to boogie and tired of waiting around, and there was a storm system moving in that we wanted to get away from lest we should get stuck in Alameda for a week or worse. The winds were predicted to be 15 to 25 kt, the swell 8-10 ft. with wind waves up to 3 ft. or so. Basically, the conditions were at the very limit of what we would have considered going out in, and since we were eager to leave and there were other conditions putting pressure on us, we split.
Back to the narrative. As we were leaving the gate, there was no wind and the swell was small but confused. Once outside, the swell evened out, but still no wind. So, we motored on south for a few hours waiting for the wind to pick up enough for us to catch some in our sails. It was a beautiful day, and right off the bat we saw a few dolphins jumping right off our bow! Right around Half Moon Bay, we got enough wind to raise the sails, and we started sailing on the open ocean. We were feeling pretty good about ourselves. We even hooked up the auto pilot and lay down for a bit.

After a few hours of sailing, the wind picked up and the wind waves increased the swell size to over 10ft. Terror set in. I took off the auto pilot, and grabbed the tiller and hung on for dear life. The swell was large enough to swing the stern of the boat around about 45 degrees with every set, and the tiller work was very demanding. We decided to drop the jib to avoid being over powered--a simple task in the Bay, but with the boat bobbing around like crazy it was pretty hairy. I climbed up there with the halyard in my hand and held on for dear life as the boat went up and down and all around. I pulled the jib down and lashed it to the deck, then crawled back to the cockpit. We continued on like this for a while, giving each other occasional silent, meaningful looks that said things like, "I think we might die," or "I'm really really scared right now. Hold me," or "what were we thinking," or "how are we going to get out of this," or "I'll never sail again." The wind and swell continued to build, so at Brady's suggestion we decided to reef (reefing is the process of lowering the main sail partway and securing it properly. This prevents the boat being overpowered by the wind. Or it means getting high. In this case, we were reefing the main.) We turned the boat upwind to take the pressure off the sails and Brady strapped on his safety harness and crawled up on the cabin top and pulled the main sail down to the boom with the reef line and secured it. Sounds easy, but it was pretty terrifying with the high wind and seas. Thanks Brady. Not long afterwards, as we were continuing to sail southwards, our course changed slightly so that we were almost at a dead run, which is an excellent point of sail, but which also places you in danger of jibing. Jibing is when the wind is at your back, the sail is out to the side, and the wind shifts and brings your sail whipping around to the other side of the boat. I've jibed under control a number of times, and it always makes me a bit nervous, but it's not a huge deal. All of a sudden, our course changed just enough to make us jibe--accidentally. An uncontrolled jibe is a dangerous thing. Luckily, no one was standing up at the time, because the boom went from port to starboard in the blink of an eye. BAM!! That was one of the scarier moments of the day. No one was hurt, however we did crack one of the pieces of wood that holds the companionway hatch drop plate in place. Oops. I reglued it yesterday, and it seems ok. So, after that happened, we decided that we were in conditions that were beyond our sailing skills, and we decided to drop the main. When we had reefed the main and turned up into the wind, it placed our boat head-on to the wind and swell, which was very rough and pretty scary. Since then, the wind and swell had increased even more, so we weren't keen on turning upwind again. So, we let out the main sheet (the control line that attaches to the boom and controls where the main sail stays) so that the main sail went out as far as possible, which took much of the strain off, and I crawled up on the cabin top and pulled the thing down and lashed it to the boom. We had had enough at that point, really, so we just fired up the motor and motored for the next 6 hours to get to shelter--Santa Cruz. The next 6 hours were pretty uneventful, but they were still taxing on us. The job of holding the boat on course when the swell is constantly swinging your stern around is very tiring. Plus, it was dark and freezing cold, so it was even more unpleasant. 6 hours later, we arrived in Santa Cruz, found a good anchorage, and dropped the anchor. This was the first time either of us had anchored. Some Annie's Mac n' Cheese and a shot of whiskey each, and we were ready to pass out. I can't remember the last time my nerves were so completely blown. Maybe never. Glenn and Brady's introduction to sailing on the ocean. Day 1 complete.

One of my favorite moments of this trip so far was waking up the next morning. I climbed out of the boat and looked around, and laughed out loud at where we were. About 400 ft. away from us was the roller coaster of the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, with a strip of beach with about 8 volleyball nets strung up, and a touristy pier right next to us. What a place to anchor. We brought out our trustworthy dinghy and motored to shore, walked around Santa Cruz for a few hours.

Our next stop was Moss Landing, about half way around Monterey Bay from Santa Cruz, where I had to drop off the little Sea Horse motor that I had picked up and tried to get running. We enjoyed a beautiful afternoon sail over to Moss Landing. At one point Brady and I looked over the gunwhales and saw hundreds upon hundreds of jelly fish drifting in the bay, and not long afterwards a group of sea lions began following our progress, jumping clear of the water alongside the boat.



After some scary moments of trying to find the harbor entrance in the dark, we pulled in for the night and met Mike, the proud new owner of my Sea Horse Motor, and the craziest character we had yet met on this trip. He is a modern day pirate, and indisputably the master of his universe--which consists of Moss Landing, the little forgotten harbor in the shadow of a power plant.