"Real" Time, September 2019

"[We] went to the [ocean] because [we] wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if [we] could not learn what it had to teach. . ."

                               --Thoreau, Walden

Since my Master's degree is in English--and the American Romantics actually inspired me to alter my career choice from law to teaching--it is Thoreau's quote above that has echoed in my mind more than once as I try to find the words for wanting to set out on the open ocean. Like so many, I seek out water--and the ocean, in particular. I'm not sure why. I just know I even tried to attend school in Texas, only to transfer after two years to San Luis Obispo, with access to both the mountains and sea.

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Obviously, Thoreau's quote is also, and more importantly, about living a life of simplicity, which is a requirement aboard a sailboat. Kevin and I have both owned multiple homes, and now renting for the past several years has been freeing; it has allowed us to foster this crazy dream of traveling by boat. I have no doubt that we will own a home again one day. But we wonder if sailing will help fulfill the urge to explore--and endorse a lifestyle of "less is more." I really don't know what to expect, honestly. But I do know we're ready to learn more.

Kevin has been dreaming big for awhile now, and he just retired from the California Highway Patrol at the end of June. I was able to load bank--or set aside units/$$ for my community college teaching position--in order to take the entire semester off, which means I do not teach again until January 2020.

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As I write this, we are a week and half away from our big trip south. We plan to leave in the middle of September; we'll stop at the Channel Islands and Catalina before we head to San Diego. I plan to fly home for a few weeks and have Quinn, my 17.5 year old, join us intermittently for the adventure. Around Halloween, we will ready the boat and ourselves for our sail down the Baja coastline.....from there, we will head to Puerto Vallarta (and some of the anchorages nearby) for a few weeks; then, we will sail to the Sea of Cortez, where we will meet all seven of our kids, ages 17 to 30 years, for a wonderful holiday adventure. We know we will not always be together for holidays, which makes us even more appreciative and grateful for what we have...and for their willingness to encourage and support this crazy dream.

Our First Adventure on Flying Free

October 2017: Bringing FF Home

As most Americans pinned and placed pumpkin decor around their homes, we primed our new-to-us sailboat, a 53 foot Amel Super Maramu, for the journey home. Stationed in San Diego, S/V Flying Free was not new to ocean passages--in fact, she had already circumnavigated the world at least once. We became the fourth owners and excitedly set up provisioning, practicing our sailing skills with her, and waited for our four crew members to arrive so that we could begin the 300 nautical miles home to Morro Bay, California.

On a cool October morning in 2017, I jumped out of bed (a rarity, let me assure you), eager as our crew: Dean, Kevin's son, and Brad, Demian and Robert, Kevin's co-workers. Kevin did a morning brief on the bow of the boat--and then we were off.

It took an hour to motorsail toward the mouth of San Diego harbor, the channel awash with more crab pots than I had ever seen. Visions of a tangled prop had us utilizing all hands on deck as we maneuvered through what looked like hundreds of land mines.

As we hit the open water, I jumped to the bow pulpit seat....and breathed deeply at what we had accomplished in two years. After setting foot on over 30 boats...and seriously coming close to buying a 48 foot Tayana...we were finally feeling the pride and joy of knowing our lives were about to change aboard our 53 foot ketch-rigged sailboat.

The first day at sea was an easy, beautiful 80 degree day. We stopped at Santa Cruz Island for a blissful 4 hours after hundreds of dolphins spent 45 minutes at our bow, ushering us toward our destination. Dean spearfished and caught 4 small fish for lunch, but then, once we headed out to the Santa Barbara channel, we hit 9 to 12 foot swell, and Point Conception (around 11:30 p.m.) lived up to its reputation.

Kevin and I thought we had timed it so that we would be on watch when we rounded this infamous promontory, but instead we were down below, subjected to foreign sounds and the feeling of being airborne at regular intervals. Kevin's quick peek through the porthole to the cockpit revealed a completely serene and calm crew--obviously we would come to learn how different it feels below deck versus topside.

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As Kevin and I took over the 12 to 2:00 a.m. shift, the fog moved in, a thick blanket surrounding us. It felt eery to be enveloped in such a thick cocoon. From a safe distance, we could vaguely see the occasional oil derrick to the west...I kept wondering why we were inside the oil derricks rather than outside them as it had been when we helped some friends do an overnight passage from Ventura to Avila in their new Lagoon 40 Catamaran a year or so before this night. I really don't recall whether I mentioned this (our course) to Kevin, but then we heard over the VHF that the restriction zones surrounding the launch pad at Vanderberg Air Force base would be closed to maritime traffic within the hour. We were cruising through the last military zone when we heard the announcement. They were actually getting ready to launch a rocket. At this point, the fog kept seesawing from a thick, misty blanket surrounding the boat to a few wispy tendrils of fog, freeing our vision eastward toward land. We could, on occasion, see the launch pad and rocket, perched toward the sky....it was surreal.

Then, as we continued north, I heard splashing right off our beam. I looked once and then twice. The green bio-luminescence, which I've read about from other sailors, was there, in the water, probably 15 feet from the boat. It turns out that smallish dolphins were jumping out of the water to keep up with us, the green streaks streaming from their mid-section as though they were wearing a psychedelic saddle. 

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Around 8:00 in the morning, everyone was up and anticipating our arrival in MB. It was sunny and beautiful, and FF was on autopilot when we pointed to a bunch of sea lions and birds directly off the bow within about 20 feet. Rather than steering away from the surface excitement, we kept our course--only to realize too late that whales were surfacing, as well. Quickly, someone hit the the autopilot to steer us to the left of all the action...and as we did so, we saw a whale's fluke so close to the port side near our bow that someone could have high-fived it. My fleeting thought was, "we haven't even made it home, and we're encountering the one disaster so many cruisers dread." We were all shocked that we didn't collide with that beautiful humpback.... Lesson # too-many-to-count during the short passage.

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We arrived in Morro Bay around 10:15 a.m., and even though we motorsailed most of the time, our Amel had proven her worth. We were truly "Flying Free."

Arrival into Morro Bay!