Salty sea dogs and crabs legs

Since the start of the new year I have been sailing (mostly solo) almost non-stop aboard the Pearson Triton we recently purchased. In this short time many adventures have been had and the constant reminder of one's own mortality a reoccurring theme. This tale is from our exploits during our most recent passage to Santa Cruz Island.

As Alex, Josie and I arrived at the docks Friday night, the winds blowing like fuck-all (40kts+). Optimistically(or foolishly), we loaded the boat and with any luck the gale would blow itself out before daybreak. We slept reasonably well given the howling winds and violent whipping of dozens halyards on dozens of masts.

Waking up an hour late the next morning, the outlook had significantly improved. The wind had calmed to a good stiff 25kts and the swell was not unreasonable. Upon realizing the good news, we loaded up on supplies and began preparations to make sail.

In a bit of fortunate misfortune, we decided on a last minute test of the BBQ. The weathered valve was not only faulty but seized in the propane feed tube. This was not a welcome delay, as we had already watched our planned departure time come and go. 

After about an hour of searching we found a second hand boat supplier, that not only had the replacement but also provided us with a workshop. We immediately set to freeing the useless and corroded old valve. This cumbersome process required the use of: a large hammer, an equally over-sized screw driver, an excessive quantity of penetrating fluid, a vice and a substantial application of force. In the end we were triumphant.

Upon returning to the docks the wind had not yet let up, this was good because we were now hours behind schedule and needed to make good time. Hastily, we prepared to make sail and planned a launching strategy. This strategy turned out to be a fantastic failure due to the strong winds and the old boat's terrible steering qualities in reverse. Fortunately, without too much drama and some fancy rope work we got her pointed up into the wind. We were finally on our way.

With the winds blowing 25kts with 30kt gusts we hoisted the sails and began to settle in for the six hour voyage ahead. We were finally making good headway and beginning to relax when Daisy, our German Shepherd, went tumbling-head-over heels off the back of the boat. Taking the helm and assigning my wife as a spotter, we performed a standard man overboard procedure. Riding up beside the dog I was able to grab her and bring her safely back on board. She was soaked to the bone but no worse for wear. I had been planning on putting netting in around the stern pulpit, and by week's end there will be.

Daisy relaxing on a calmer day

Once we were north of Ventura and well off shore the seas settled and the wind was reduced to a comfortable 12-15kts. We were able to shake out the reef and  run under full sail. Between that point and making landfall at Santa Cruz island things were pleasantly uneventful. 

The sun set as we made landfall, which was beautiful but less than desirable, as we were yet to anchor on what would be a near moonless night. With our intended destination still over 12 miles away I hoped we could sneak into Potato Harbor in the last lingering moments of twilight. We would have no such luck, all detail was lost to the darkness before we even arrived at the entrance. 

 

We pushed on through darkness for another hour and a half to Prisoners Harbor.  Its easy approach and unlit military supply dock [marking a safe anchorage] were ideal for just such an occasion. With one eye on the depth finder and the other on the featureless coast, we anchored bow-and-stern. Once satisfied with the hold and angle to the swell we were able to relax for the evening.

Once settled we spent the night fishing for crabs under the innumerable stars that are lost to the city lights back home. Our entertainment was watching the bio-luminescent display known as the red tide. The harbor came to life as dolphins chasing schools of fish lit up the waters around us. This seemingly electric display is impossible to photograph and a description in words is inadequate. One would have to see it themselves for it is a truly magical thing. This went on through the night and after pulling up a good haul of crabs we went below to get some sleep.

We woke in conditions so calm that the angry seas that tried to steal my dog seemed so far away. We would have had the glassy water of the harbor to ourselves that morning, if not for the sea lions and pelicans. It was a lazy day in all the best ways and once we were all up it was time for breakfast.

When I unwrapped the crabs they were still lively as ever. The biggest of the bottom dwelling bastards was none too happy to be in the same bucket with the others; he brutally removed the claws of one and nearly cracking another in half as we were preparing the grill. Making short work of cleaning them, I handed the meaty bits over to Alex to be cooked.

Upon finishing our delicious breakfast, we noticed a large number of fish had found refuge under the Triton's hull. I tried free-diving in the icy cold waters but there was simply not enough visibility. I quickly gave up and resorted to rod and real. Using bread for bait, we fished till our cooler was full and the few pieces of bread we had were gone.

It was now half past four, well after our planned departure time but more importantly well after lunch. We made quick work of the fish and headed for open water. The wind was just strong enough to allow for good speed but not enough to cause any undue discomfort. The sun set as we cleared the point and again we headed into darkness.

A dark night with a good breeze has to be one of my favorite times to be at sea, and I enjoyed this near moonless night maybe more then others. Our boat moving in solitude and silence through calm seas was joined by a pod of dolphins. The electric glow of the red-tide allowed us to see every detail of their movement. You could see them lazily riding the water pushed aside by the hull. They were rolling and playing with one another; so close you could literally reach in and touch them. Once bored, the dolphins would veer off at full speed leaving a glowing comet trail behind, only to return a few moments later for another free ride. It went on like this for some time as we took turns riding the bowsprit. It really is amazing the otherworldly things you can see so close to home if only you know where to look.

Shortly after the dolphins had abandoned us for good we were back in the safe waters of the harbor. Returning to the slip was far simpler a task then leaving it. With nothing lost to the sea or damaged aboard the ship, our voyage was at an end.

~jerrad