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.