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.
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