Southern California

Point Conception loomed before us and the wind slowly began to creep up knot by knot until – bam! – all of a sudden 22 became 29. The direction changed so I could no longer hold a direct course to steer around the point, but rather knew that we would have to gybe (turn with the wind behind the boat) at least twice in strong winds to make it around. The waves grew.

Comfortable seven foot waves became nine, and some eleven and twelve foot waves snuck in every few minutes to remind us how quickly seas can build. We managed our first gybe smoothly, Tom pulling in the mizzen sheet (the mizzen mast is our second, smaller mast at the back of the boat) and then easing the mizzen out so the strong winds from behind us didn’t slam it forward. The self-tacking staysail (our small jib at the front of the boat) took care of itself. The next gybe should take us on a course around the point, but we had to wait, wait, wait until we knew we could clear it. The winds grew. We were seeing 30 and 31 regularly. It’s not yet a gale, but it’s close.

We prepared to gybe, and again I turned the boat, and Tom took in the mizzen sheet until a wave caught us broadside. All of a sudden I had no steerage, no ability to steer down the wave. “Tom, help!” I cried. He immediately realized that the mizzen (even reefed!) in the process of being pulled in and then eased out, had acted instantaneously as our rudder, trying to steer us into the wind and completely overpowering our actual rudder. Tom quickly blew the mizzen sheet and within a millisecond, we had steerage again and made our course to round Point Conception, the “Cape Horn of the Pacific.”

We had made it to southern California. But there was little time to celebrate as we had to turn up into the strong wind to find our anchorage at Cojo, a barren strip of land tucked in just behind the dreaded point. We warily eyed the beached sailboat on the sand in front of us and picked our way through thick, dark kelp beds to find our spot, dropping the anchor with 21 knots of wind on the nose to blow us backwards. Little need to back up and power-set your anchor when the wind does it for you, but we did it anyway. And we were here.

We opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate our official arrival in southern California, comforted the angry cat, and laughed as we watch the champagne bottle slide back and forth across the table with every swell that hit us. It didn’t feel like southern California yet as we watched a family of wild boars trot along the beach, baby boars in tow, and sat alone in the anchorage, not a building or boat to be seen. The full enormity of southern California would come later as we headed south and east down the coast.

The world around us then began to change. Huge, shiny boats filled the Santa Barbara Harbor. There was a catamaran we could have sailed under. Mega-yachts dotted the end-ties.  We sat at rolly anchor outside the safe marina breakwater and pier, rocking in time with other salty, grubby, well-used boats. Massive mansions towered above us on the coastal cliffs. We felt foreign.

Architecure became adobe and clay. The air carried the scent of desert flowers and smog. Tanned bodies strolled long, white beaches. People were everywhere. Harbor patrols were everywhere. Buildings were everywhere. Concrete was everywhere. When was the last time we saw a tree? And all the best anchorages were full of private and expensive mooring buoys. And the inescapable heat kept beating down on us.

We felt like fish out of water. Even our attempted escape to the trails of the Catalina Island proved rocky as we braved the surf and the surge coming north from Hurricane Sergio and sustained a few uncomfortable nights at anchor. We missed our rain and our cool temperatures. We missed the come-as-you-are grunginess of the Pacific Northwest. We missed our calm island anchorages, hugged by spruce, cedar, and Douglas fir. It has not been an easy transition to southern California.

But southern California has also served up some wonderful gifts in the form of all the people we have met. My mom’s friend since 3rd grade, Diane, gave us a tour of Redondo Beach and Manhattan Beach, took us out to breakfast, and drove us to the airport and back to pick up Sara flying in from Denmark. I got to spend a few days with my old friend and swim teammate from high school, Tracy, which was such a gift (Tracy, we didn’t take a picture!). The folks at Redondo Beach Yacht Club immediately invited us to come to their big weekly party. We met Blue Heron, another boat headed to Mexico with a boat kid. At Dana Point, we met Gail and Ron, who drove Tom to West Marine, and other boaters who offered us some contacts in Mexico. At anchor there, so many people saw the Washington on our stern and came over to talk. Some folks having a big party on the beach invited us over to celebrate and partake of the great spread.

Further south, the folks at Oceanside Yacht Club – Les, Rick, Tim, Mike, Brianna, Tessa, Jeanie, and so many others made us feel so welcome and showed us such wonderful hospitality. Dylan and Andy got a friend to play with for a few evenings, and Mike gave us some helpful fishing gear and advice. We could not have asked for a better stay and a more welcoming community. The negative feelings I was having about southern California dissolved in the warmth of the welcome we received.

Once the high surf warnings dissipated and Oceanside’s harbor entrance calmed, we headed south to San Diego, our jumping off point for our leap down to Mexico. I hadn’t really looked forward to San Diego in any other way than as the place to get the final items of the to-do list done (vet appointment, fill fuel tanks, send ballots, provision with boat supplies), just an extension of the coast. But San Diego has been a complete experience on its own. It surely warrants its own blog post, but since I find it so hard to squeeze out time for writing, San Diego gets its moment now.

One of the most amazing experiences here is meeting other kid boats. We tied up for three nights at the Port of San Diego Police Dock, because it is the only dock that has at a reasonable price for transient boaters down here – and immediately met up with a bunch of other boat kids, all headed to Mexico. Dylan and Andy were over the moon. At one point, there were six boat kids aboard Korvessa. The girls immediately adopted Sara and took over her cabin for their girls’ club. The boys proceeded to do more fort building up in the v-berth at Dylan’s strict instructions.  The kids needed this.

The other unforgettable experience was visiting Sea World. We knew we really wanted to make this trip now, because Sea World will be phasing out its orca programs over time.  To see the wonder in the eyes of our kids as they saw the animals was priceless. I feel that I would like to reflect on this more, so I will leave more for another post.

Perhaps it is a little silly, but anchoring across the bay from a pool in Coronado almost made me want to cry. We now live on the water, but there have been precious few opportunities to swim. Even the Dana Point Harbor Patrol picked me up at one point and told me where I could and could not swim.  Two days in a row, I was able to get some me-time to swim, just swim, for 45 minutes. To just move myself through the water. I didn’t have to look up. I didn’t have to worry about getting run over by boats or kayaks or stand up paddleboarders. There were lane lines. There were backstroke flags.  I may not see a lap pool for a long time, so this was a very sweet experience.

Point Conception was a turning point, both literally and figuratively.  Southern California hasn’t been a dream for us. We aren’t “sun” people, and we wanted to dance when the rains came. We were overwhelmed with the structure and regulation of harbors. But we were also overwhelmed with the warmth, camaraderie, and fun. Southern California was always a place I came as a kid in the summers, viewing the world from the safety of a house in the hills and paying little heed to everything else.  It’s a special experience to visit it as an adult and to have the perspective of gazing from the water out east onto the cities and the hills. I appreciate the opportunity for my experiences, my assumptions, judgments, and opinions to come full circle – or, more accurately, to be influenced and developed by so many different factors and to grow into a more nuanced, unforgettable experience. Point Conception gave me that experience with its difficulty and exhilaration, and southern California has indeed followed suit.