Category: Uncategorized

From Moro Bay we headed off to Los Angeles. We had originally planned to stay in Marina del Rey, however the marina was expensive and when I called they where a bit snooty and required no end of documentation sending to them before they would take a booking, one thing they wanted was the purchase/sales invoice from when I bought the boat. I don’t know where I have put this, but in the end I decided I didn’t want all the hassle, so we booked a place in Oxnard, which is an hours drive north of LA and Venice beach, and with the money we saved, we hired a car for 3 days and did a bit of exploring. First off we visited Venice beach

Above you can see me buying a limited edition hand drawing of a theme around ‘Satoshi was here’ on the sidewalk at Venice beach. The guy selling them was a bitcoin nutter who had a plan to sell these limited edition sketches (100 off) and then for each one sold another ten would be made, but at double the price, which I could purchase at the same price as one of the first 100, which was $10. I lost his plot after ten minutes of him explaining how a building would be built with the proceeds, and the sketch would entitle me to a place on the first floor, but if I bought more of the next batch, I could move up a floor. All of this was recorded on a private blockchain. Basically it was like a pyramid scheme, and was unlikely to come to anything, but for $10 I thought I would support this guy’s enterprising vision, and you don’t get much for $10 in this part f the world. A few days earlier a guy pushing his life along the road in a shopping trolley asked me if I could spare him ‘a twenty’, I was some way along the road past him before I got over the shock of it! $20, Am I getting really mean in my old age, or is $20 the amount people give to homeless when asked these days?

Next we headed off to find the ranch where Charles Manson lived before it burnt down. Basically I was going to walk around a field for an hour while Kathy would be exclaiming ‘Amazing’ ‘ I can’t believe we are here’. She will explain in her blog I’m sure, but I think it’s connected with murders and the houses we visited in San Francisco.

Of course it’s halloween here and all over Venice Beach people had put on great shows in their gardens and windows.

Venice beach was lovely, I posted a video of some great public skating on our facebook page, you can see that here

From Oxnard we headed onto Redondo, en route we passed Magu point where there is a military firing range, I must have missed the warnings sent out on the VHF radio as we were steaming into the firing range but were intercepted by a fast patrol boat that instructed us to change course to 180 degrees (south) and to stay on that heading for 3 miles before turning east again. I think it’s actually quite hard to get into a live firing range.

Bow & Stern moorings are required in Redondo, I haven’t used this type of setup before, but it was actually very easy. Kathy brought the boat up alongside the pick up pole, something she can do much better than me. I grabbed the pole, and as usual wondered why I forgot the gloves. Poles and ropes that live in the sea are not usually nice things to hold, slime/barnacles etc

Redondo was a bit like Venice beach, but without anything happening on the beach. It had a great pier complex full of funky restaurants and shops.

We headed of to Santa Catalina next. Santa Anna winds were forcast so we popped around to the west side of the island to get shelter there.
It was funny that I had just updated the operating system on my macbook a few days ago to the latest release, known as ‘Catalina’ Apple name their releases after famous places in California, such as Mojave and Yosemite. I took this picture below as we rounded the eastern end of Catalina Island and was reminded of the login screen on my laptop

This is the icon Apple use for Catalina which I’m pretty sure is the same bit of the island. They have a better angle, but I got a bluer sky.

We picked up a mooring in Catalina Harbour, the west side of ‘two harbours’ and went ashore to pay. They charged $50/night to tie to a mooring ball, so we payed for one night and the next night moved to the anchorage which was a bit further out. Below is the ‘anchor art’ from our chartplotter that shows how we swung between two locations as the tide turned.

Our next destination was to be San Diego, but to break the journey up into two 7 hour daytime passages, rather than a 14 hour overnighter we called into Oceanside for a night. Here the seals had taken over our end of the harbour and at one point I had to have very strong words with the biggest sea lion you have ever seen. He was blocking our path back off the boat and everytime I approached him, clapping and shouting, he lurched towards me with a wide open mouth full of very sharp teeth. He wasn’t going to move. Eventually he backed down, it turns out he was all front, no substance, but very scary all the same.

So on we pushed to San Diego. The plan had been to avoid the Baja Haha. The Baja Haha (pronounced bar hah, hah hah) is an annual rally for about 150 sailboats that sail down to the sea of cortez from San Diego. I wanted to miss them as I expected marinas to be full and noisy, so quite how we end up arriving in San Diego 4 days before the start is beyond me. Of course everywhere was full, we got two nights on the police/public dock before we had to move out and anchor in a designated spot for the weekend, then I managed to snap up the last berth on the the dock for another 4 days. The boat had to be inspected before we could use the anchorage.

San Diego is a great place, and like LA and San Francisco, is a mecca for watersports, especially sailboats. There are thousands of them here in scores of marinas. It’s also home to a huge military base, loads of warships, submarines and airplanes and helicopters. The choppers are constantly flying out to sea and returning, often 2 or three at a time in close formations that remind me of war films I have seen. Its also a cruise ship port.

Our first job was to pickup the new raw water pump I had shipped out from the UK. It cost more in the uber cab to get to the DHL collection point than the postage from Southampton! but once there I was relieved to find it was the right part, there are two similar but incompatible versions of the pump.

We had a good walk and cycle around town, I managed to buy a stack of gifts which I later posted home as Christmas presents to be distributed later. I’m not sure how reliable the parcel service from Mexico would be so played it safe with USPS.

We had just missed the Day of the dead festivities, but there was no shortage of deadish looking things around!

Here is the said pump, it’s now fitted nd doing sterling work.

Back at the police dock we had a visit from a local Perry boat owner, Harvey. He runs the Tayana group, which is very similar to our Baba group, of which I am a moderator. He has cruised the Pacific Northwest for many years and we had a great chat about sailing there.

Before we left San Diego, I had to visit the Maritime Museum, but we were running out of time, so we just visited the USS Midway, which is a massive aircraft carrier, commissioned in 1945, and was the lead ship in the desert storm war.

It’s always a conflict for me with military sites, as on the one hand, it’s hard not to be impressed by the sheer scale of creativity and industry that went into these ships design and construction, but also accepting that they are giant killing machines that sometimes mistakes wedding parties for terrorists with horrific consequences.

Finally a bit of boaty stuff, I bought some Dyneema rope and a round thing. Apparently this is the future and all racing boats have gone this way. I will post a picture of the finished item when I have spliced a loop in the rope, but basically this will replace the damaged car/block for the yankee sheet.

We left San Diego around 16:00 on the 7th November, finally we had had a call from the marina in Ensenada that they had a berth for us, we had an uneventful motor down after the wind died three hours into our sail. Mexico is much closer to Malaysia than San Diego, in terms of wealth, infrastructure etc. But I got a great feel from the place as we approached our berth and the manager and his assistant were waiting for us and took our lines with a very smiley welcome. Victor, who runs the marina side of the facility, as it has a much bigger operation as a boatyard, took us downtown, helped us find an ATM, and took us to immigration, harbour master, customs and TIP offices. He very quickly got us signed into Mexico and now we are all legal and here for 2 weeks to chill, refresh our basic Spanish language skills and acclimatise to the hispanic way of life.

Paul Collister.

The word Monterey conjures up images (and sounds) of music due to the renowned annual jazz festival that take place there. The 1967 Monterey Pop festival is said to have coined the phrase ‘The Summer of Love’, so it seemed an appropriate destination to head for after San Francisco. We arrived at Monterey Harbour early on the morning of 6^th October to the now familiar and welcome sounds of barking sea lions. Paul’s oft-repeated assertion that it would get hotter the further south we go had never seemed to hold so true as we took our customary exploratory walk in new surroundings. The late morning sun’s heat had us shedding layers of clothing as we strolled along the boardwalk. The beach looked very inviting, with small groups of people swimming, sunbathing and surfing but it was the sound of live music coming from a nearby square that grabbed our attention.  A cultural festival was taking place on a stage in the square, honouring a celebration of languages around the world. Food and souvenir stalls lined the sides and there was a great atmosphere from the audience enjoying performances from dancers and speakers representing the countries.

My initial impressions of the town made me think of Spain. The small centre had a decidedly Mediterranean feel, with its tree-lined Spanish named streets, Spanish-style architecture and pavement cafes. Monterey has a long history of Spanish (and later on, Mexican) settlement and was California’s capital under both rules until 1850. The coastal trail is a long attractive walkway spanning the length of the bay’s coastal curve. We walked only a small part of it, planning to walk the whole trail when we visited Cannery Row. The only drawback was the profusion of cyclists using the same path and ringing bells to urge you out of their way. I found it safest to stick close to the edge and stay there in order to avoid collisions. The rocky shore is populated with a rich variety of marine life and the water was clear enough to see seals, sea lions and birds when they dived and swam under the surface. We stood for ages looking at them, and at the grand views behind us of old canning factories and the colourful Fisherman’s Wharf Pier.

Monterey’s Fisherman’s Wharf is smaller and consequently less lively than San Francisco’s – even with all the usual seafood restaurants, gift shops, candy stores and whale watching and fishing excursion tours. We ambled around this compact, quaint tourist attraction for an hour or so. Well who doesn’t like the occasional browse in shops full of tacky gifts and souvenirs! Actually some of the items on sale were of high quality and unusual enough for us to linger and examine them. We booked a table for dinner at one of the restaurants before heading back to town to do some shopping. The festival was still in full swing when we arrived there so we sat and watched the last few performances before the finale. One guy from the audience who joined in the dancing bore a striking resemblance to the man currently making a pig’s ear of being our Prime Minister. See the pic below 😉

Monterey revealed more of its history and places of interest over the few days we were there. Considering the Spanish and Latin American heritage we were surprised to find at least three of its pubs advertising their Britishness. Parts of the town centre did actually resemble old English market towns but we never discovered why the pubs were festooned with UK flags and displayed menus boasting fish and chips, Sunday roasts and sausage and mash. Always a fan of charity shops, I have grown to love the ‘thrift stores’ here in America. Some of them are like social history museums with their old crockery, kitchen appliances and toys – and as in the UK there is always a diverse selection of books to browse.  

The author, Robert Louis Stevenson resided in Monterey for a brief period in 1879. His short stay (a mere couple of months) didn’t deter Monterey from marking the occasion, however and the house he stayed in is now a museum filled with his personal artefacts along with art pieces created by his wife, Fannie. The large white house was closed when we looked at it, as are most museums on Mondays but it was enough to see it from the outside and continue on admiring the other beautiful old buildings in the town. A local information leaflet informed us that pristine, whitewashed buildings and substantial residences made of adobe bricks began to line the streets as Monterey expanded. Spanish building methods and New England architectural features combined to form the popular ‘Monterey Colonial’ style that so reminded me of the historic structures in parts of Spain.

The primary reason for our visit to Monterey was to visit Cannery Row, the place immortalised in Steinbeck’s novel of the same name in 1945. Paul had recently finished reading Steinbeck’s 1940 account of his travels with marine biologist Ed Ricketts in The Log from the Sea of Cortez, so we were both keen to see the place that profoundly influenced the men. Ricketts had a lab in Cannery Row for his marine studies and he and Steinbeck became great friends after meeting in 1930, remaining so until Ricketts was killed by a train in 1948. Cannery Row was named so by an anonymous journalist in 1919 but the area had been used for fishing as long ago as five thousand years. During the time Steinbeck lived there it had become known as the ‘sardine capital of the world’ and the colourful mix of characters working there ignited his imagination. I knew it wouldn’t look the same as it did in Steinbeck’s day, and thankfully, it wouldn’t smell the same either. Nowadays the area is focused on recreation rather than industry with luxurious hotels and restaurants and a plethora of shops for tourists. Surprisingly there was a distinct lack of bookshops when we looked to see if we could buy a copy of Cannery Row.  It wasn’t until we were browsing a huge antique mall later that day that we found some dusty-looking old editions of his books, and they were very expensive.

It was still possible to imagine the place as it was when fully functioning as a fish processing industry, thanks to plenty of information and pictures of how it used to look.  I particularly liked the large murals depicting Cannery Row’s workers painted on the wall of the recreational trail.  

We took the opportunity to go for a couple cycle rides during our five day stay in Monterey. The first one was along the Coastal Recreational Trail all the way to a place called Lovers’ Point in Pacific Grove.  It was a perfect day for a bike ride: sunny but not too hot and the seascape scenes were stunning. Along the way we spotted a plaque dedicated to the memory of John Denver who had died in Monterey Bay when the plane he was in crashed there in 1997.

With Halloween fast approaching, the houses we passed were decorated in the manner you see adorning some homes in the UK in the run up to Christmas. They are absolutely fascinating and we continue to see ever more flamboyant ones everywhere we go. The pumpkin displays in the supermarkets are pretty impressive too. I hadn’t realised there were so many varieties and colours, especially when I think back to my childhood when, if we wanted anything to carve into a Jack o Lantern we would have to make do with a turnip or a swede!

Lovers’ Point turned out to be full of squirrels as opposed to lovers. There were hundreds of them scurrying around literally begging for food from people. At first we thought they were rats because we are used to seeing squirrels in trees and these were all over the rocky beach and grassy areas but it seems they don’t need trees…and we still need to brush up on our knowledge of birds and animal types.

Our second bike ride was infinitely more challenging. We didn’t set off until midday and it was an extremely hot day. As is often the case, the distance on the map looked ‘doable’ but was in actual fact a distance that required the stamina and physique of a trained athlete! Google maps had stated that the journey from Monterey to Salinas would take around 1 hour and 40 minutes by bike, and showed a convenient cycle path almost all the way there. That might work for those of a Tour de France calibre! We hadn’t gone more than an hour when we realised we’d taken on too much of an arduous task. The heat didn’t help, and parts of the track were covered with broken glass and sharp rocks. The final straw came when we had to traverse a busy and wide freeway where cars and lorries were speeding past at an alarming rate. Paul checked the map and said we weren’t even a third of the way there. Our intention was to visit the National Steinbeck Centre and at that rate it would be closed by the time we got there. My legs were about to give up on any more pedalling and we were both sweating and tired so it didn’t take long to decide to park the bikes at the shopping mall across the road and call an Uber taxi to take us into Salinas. It hadn’t been a total waste of time and effort, however because we’d passed some stunning scenes, including a Route 66 road sign which I’d been especially thrilled to see.

The drive to Salinas made us realise exactly how much further away Salinas was and it was a relief to be in the air conditioned car for the rest of the journey instead of cooking in the sun on the bike. The Steinbeck Centre was very good. Unsurprisingly, since Salinas is where he was born and lived until he was 17, it holds the largest collection of Steinbeck archives in America. The exhibits relating to his works, life and philosophy were of genuine interest to us and we made the most of our time there. A highlight for me was seeing the actual van that Steinbeck had used for his travels across America which culminated in one of my favourite books, Travels with Charley. The house he was born and grew up in is a short walk from the centre so we had a quick look at that before catching a bus back to the mall to collect our bikes for a cool and much more comfortable early evening ride back to Monterey.

We left Monterey on Saturday 12^th October, bound for Morro Bay. This was an overnight passage and we managed to sail through the night with the wind remaining favourable enough for the duration of the passage for a change. It was foggy but there were no other vessels around and we were in no great hurry to get there so we took it slow and steady, arriving at the bay around lunchtime on Sunday. The sea life we’d been told would be all around us began to appear as Morro Bay’s three tall towers from a disused power station came into view. Sea lions, dolphins and sea otters joined us in the water as I steered us towards a mooring buoy, while pelicans flew overhead and perched on the rocky breakwater like sentries. Morro Bay is dominated by a massive dome shaped rock which is in fact a volcanic plug. First Nation tribes consider it a sacred site and it’s protected by the state. For this reason it is not permitted to climb it but a public path allows tourists to walk around its base. We could see people on the beach and trail adjacent to it once we’d tied up to the buoy. Overnight passages tend to leave us (well me at least) too tired to do much once we’ve reached our destination and we put off any excursions until the following day.

Morro Bay is proud of its charming little seaside town. An exploratory walk along the front revealed a number of signs exhorting people to keep the town clean, pollution free and using contaminants that would have negative effects on the marine life. It’s clearly paid off because the streets were pristine and the water is crystal clear. The tiny maritime museum consisted of one small square room crammed with exhibits and items for sale. It was free admission and the friendly lady inside was keen to know where we were from after hearing our accent. A good number of people in both Canada and the US have assumed us to be Australian. It must be a bit like us being unable to distinguish between the Canadian and American accent. We walked along the shop and gallery lined waterfront side of the street and discovered some high class, artisan, locally-made and unique (you get the picture) souvenirs and products for sale – all very expensive but nice to browse.

The true beauty of Morro Bay revealed itself when we visited the trail and beach near the rock. It was a gorgeous day weather-wise; completely clear with blue sky and a light that enhanced the sea and skyline. The view of the town from the rocky beach was enchanting and there were lots of cute sea otters in the shallow water to admire. It was here that we found out that the rat-like creatures were squirrels because we asked a couple who were busy feeding them at the base of the rock. It was so lovely that we considered staying longer and maybe hiring a car to drive to Los Angeles. Unfortunately, once the weather and other factors had been considered it meant we might get stuck there if we didn’t continue southward the following day. We ended our Morro Bay sojourn with an early dinner in a fish restaurant overlooking the water: chips without the fish for me, washed down with a glass of red wine 😉    

I had plenty of reasons subsequently to wish we had decided to remain there for longer. Our overnight journey to Oxnard near Los Angeles would be anything but plain sailing…  

Wednesday 16th.

We left our mooring buoy at Morro Bay around 09:30 for the overnight passage to LA. We were actually heading for Oxnard which is an hours drive north of Venice Beach. I couldn’t find a cheap berth in LA proper, and this seemed like a good alternative. We had originally considered Ventura, but this was closer to LA and more importantly to me, Mexico.
This passage was about 130 miles, which is about 26 hours at 5 knots speed. So by leaving at 9:30 we should arrive in the early afternoon the next day.
The official weather forecast from NOAA had gales predicted for Thursday night and Friday, so I didn’t want to linger. The sea state was good now but would deteriorate on the passage, but nothing too bad and nothing we hadn’t handled before. I was looking forward to about 15-25 knots of wind from behind, making for a fast passage.
We got the sails up as soon as we left the breakwater. with the wind aft of the beam (from behind) we were making good progress.

By the afternoon the wind had picked up more and the swell was growing, and for some unknown reason to me the autohelm started giving up, I took the helm, got us back on course , but it happened again fairly quickly. So out came the wind vane for the monitor self steering. I hadn’t used this in a while and it took a bit of fiddling to get it running, but once I did, the boat steered a great course south. I hit my bunk around 8pm leaving Kathy on watch, but around 11pm she woke me as we had gone way off course, a lull in the wind had caused the wind steering to fail. I fixed this and then started my midnight watch a little early and Kathy hit the sack.
A few hours later the predicted gale started to appear and winds were gusting to 25/30 knots. We were now in the middle of a load of oil/gas platforms that inhabit this part of the coast. I had managed to get a double reef into the mainsail, and we only had the staysail out, but we were hitting over 10 knots according to the GPS and that’s a lot for this boat, so I decided to furl up the staysail a bit. Unfortunately, the furling line was taught and I couldn’t pull it in. A quick trip to the bow revealed the furling line had come off the drum and wrapped around under/inside the drum and was far too tight for me to pull out by hand. Back in the cockpit I could see the wind was still strengthening and the seas building, it was starting to get a bit worrying, so I grabbed a torch, it was quite dark out, and a sailors knife and headed back to the bow. Sitting on the bow platform above the bowsprit, with the aid of the torch, I could see that the line was wrapped around the forestay several times below the furling drum, and I spent half an hour feeding the rope back through the drum, undoing the tension, while the rather rough sea was bouncing me around. Eventually it was all back on the drum. All the time we had been sailing directly towards an oil rig, it was looking pretty big now. The thing with oil rigs is that they are so bright in the sea, they look a lot closer than they actually are, at least that was my plan/hope.

Back in the cockpit things were getting worse, the wind steering was struggling and we were heeled over much more than I liked, the rails were close to the water. Furling the sail on my own was going to be difficult in the strong wind, so I called for Kathy to get out of her bunk and head on up to help me. This worried her a lot as I rarely need to call for help, and she was being thrown around in the cabin getting ready to come on deck. I had the usual explaining that we weren’t going to die etc etc but could she control the sheets while I winched in the staysail. once the staysail was mostly in, and with the fully reefed mainsail, the boat settled, I could get us back on course and everything was fine again, Kathy went back to bed, although it took a while for her to relax and fall asleep. Before Kathy headed below she took the helm for a bit while I worked on the windvane, unfortunately Kathy managed a crash Jibe, this wasn’t that bad, and only happened because I had undone the preventer from the starboard side of the boat, this is a rope that tames the boom when we might Jibe, I had forgotten to re-attach it after all the flapping (literally) with the headsail. A few hours later when the wind should have been really strong, it disappeared and we had to turn the motor on, which we used until sunrise when there was enough wind to sail again.
Arriving at Oxnard was simple, as we travel south the bars at the harbour entrances get less serious, this one looked a bit wild as we approached, but once around the breakwater it was very calm. Motoring into the Marina complex it was staggering to see so many boats here, perhaps a few thousand. In fact there are a few marinas and yacht clubs at Oxnard, and beyond them the water flows around a massive housing development where every house backs onto the water and has its own dock/pontoon.

Looking over the boat later I found the solar powered vent above the shower room had smashed off the coachroof leaving a 3.5″ diameter hole in the deck.

Also the line for the staysail furler had shredded its outer braid.

More about LA later.

Paul Collister.

Drakes Bay proved to be a great stopover before we hit the bright lights of San Francisco. It was here that Francis Drake is thought to have landed during his circumnavigation of the world in 1579. 30 miles from San Francisco, this stunning bay is four miles wide – and an undeniable area of outstanding natural beauty. Sheer cliffs and a long, sandy beach greeted us as we approached the bay preparing to anchor on the morning of Friday September 20^th. The weather allowed us to see it in all its glory; a clear, blue sky, warm sunshine, no wind and a flat calm sea. The view reminded me of Scottish Island coastlines, complete with crofters’ cottages dotted on distant hillsides.  We’d heard it was a great place to see wildlife too, so we wasted little time in going ashore to explore. Before we’d even reached the beach to park the dinghy I spotted a sea lion basking on some nearby rocks. Maybe it was that delightful distraction that caused me to stumble in an ungainly manner as I attempted to step out of the dinghy onto the beach with the dinghy’s painter. Luckily I managed to stay upright, I just had very wet trouser legs until the sun dried them. 

For two hours we followed the recommended trail, climbing gradually with the shoreline on our right. As high as we were, we had tremendous views of the bay. Meanwhile on our left, wildlife made an appearance in the form of a coyote stalking a deer. I was thrilled to see a coyote – the very word synonymous with North America and a creature referred to in several novels and songs. The deer didn’t seem in the least bit alarmed at being followed; it appeared disdainful if anything.

A car drew up as we were looking and we got chatting with the occupants who’d also stopped to watch the scene. Like so many, they were very interested in our plans and recommended a few places in San Francisco. The lady in the group told us she was planning a night swim in the place we would be anchoring in a few days’ time. Apparently it’s a popular pastime in the area. It’s not one that I will be in a hurry to join – walking in the beautiful Point Reyes National Seashore Park fulfilled all my exercise needs. We strolled on admiring the colourful flora and fauna and the views from one of the highest points where the wide Pacific is visible as far as the eye can see. I hope that deer lived to see another day, we saw several of them on our return journey but there was no sign of the coyote.

It was tempting to remain in such an ideal setting but we told ourselves we could always return if San Francisco was full or too busy. So early on Saturday 21^st, after clearing the anchor of all the kelp attached to it, we made our way out into the misty (as opposed to foggy) bay. Along the way we saw the captivating sights of whales, dolphins, sea lions and pelicans. Near lunchtime, the shape of the Golden Gate Bridge could be made out on the horizon and Paul’s daughter Yasmin suggested he broadcast a live stream of us going underneath it. To do this, he downloaded an app called Periscope which we all had to install in order to see the images. The sea wasn’t too choppy and it was a lovely sunny day but still awkward to operate a phone to let people know about the event at the same time as doing all the other necessary tasks…like keeping watch! Paul was at the bow with the camera and I was in the cockpit messaging my daughter about the live stream when all of a sudden Paul appeared, having run from the bow because I hadn’t heard him shouting my name. I looked up and saw a yacht under sail heading straight for our port side. It was such a shock and the skipper looked rightfully very annoyed. Paul managed to steer us away and no damage was done but I put my phone away for the duration of the journey and consigned myself to the naughty step 😉

The bridge drew closer and I steered us under it, which is a fantastic experience to remember and treasure. Then Alcatraz came into view, along with a clearer view of San Francisco’s skyline and those views caused surges of excitement in me.  It had been 1983 when I last saw these sights and I was hoping I‘d actually get a chance to visit Alcatraz this time. Aquatic Park was our destination, an anchorage beside the Fisherman’s Wharf district. There were signs warning of the need to watch for swimmers and we soon discovered there were quite a few to avoid as we entered it. We spotted Gargoyle anchored there; Carla and Kevin waved as we circled around looking for a good spot. We ended up rather close to a pier wall which seemed to get ever closer as the wind turned us. Paul dinghied over to Gargoyle while I stayed on board, worried that the anchor was dragging. It turned out to be an optical illusion. The anchor was secure but Paul admitted the wall did look a bit too close, plus we were in clear view of all the tourists strolling on the pier.

For now, though we were keen to get ashore so we parked the dinghy on a pontoon near Hyde Street Pier and set off to explore the area. It wasn’t surprising to find typical seaside resort attractions, such as ‘snack shacks’, candy floss (cotton candy), ice creams, souvenir shops and a plethora of seafood restaurants claiming to serve the best clam chowder, but it’s without doubt a vibrant, colourful and fascinating place. We called in to the famous Boudin Bakery while walking along the waterfront boardwalk. This huge establishment purports to create the best sourdough bread in California and has been in business since 1849, now with a museum attached to the premises. There’s a wide variety of bread and related products on offer in all sorts of shapes and sizes. We felt it would be rude not to try a nice (but expensive) sourdough loaf .    

Tired from the passage, and since it was beginning to get dark, we finished with a quick walk around the main square in lively Fisherman’s Wharf, with its old time Italian carousel, fortune tellers and specialist chocolate and candy shops. I thought it would be nice to have a drink in one of the restaurants there before heading back. Most of them offer ‘happy hour’ prices and we were just in time to take advantage of it. With the addition of sales tax and a tip, however, the bill didn’t make me very happy (almost £20 for two drinks – and one of them was a coke!). 

I had compiled a list of places I wanted to see in San Francisco. We planned to be there for a couple of weeks so there was plenty of time to fit them all in. The first of these was The Beat Museum in the North Beach district. We moved the boat before setting off, though – away from the wall and prying eyes. Again, there were more swimmers to watch out for and one of them clearly didn’t trust us to do this; she yelled out frequently to us (or at me since I was steering) to watch out for her when I was looking right at her. It was a cold and windy morning and must have been freezing in the water, but then they are described as ‘extreme’ swimmers. I know I would have been more than a bit short tempered if I had been in that water. The chilly start didn’t last and by midday it was very hot. San Francisco’s exceptionally steep streets are famous, and they’re attractive, but in high temperatures, it’s hard to appreciate the sights around you while you’re doubled over and sweating while getting your breath back. Needless to say we didn’t plan to take the bikes out on these streets. We did see a few cyclists valiantly pedalling up some of them, though before having to dismount when they realised the impossibility of it.  

Armed with maps and guide books we made our way to Coit Tower. Described as the exclamation point on San Francisco’s skyline, it’s a monument to the city’s firefighters. The views are supposed to be breath-taking from the top but we were keen to get to the museum before it closed. The Beat Museum is a good starting point to get the backstory of the counterculture movement San Francisco has become known for. There was an informative film about the prominent characters of the Beat movement, some fascinating pictures and articles and of course, a great bookshop. Nearby City Lights bookshop would have to wait for another time.

Chinatown was close by so we walked there next, and since we’d built up an appetite with all that walking we had dinner in one of the many Chinese restaurants. Ticking off another item on my list, we followed the map to 29 Russell Street where Jack Kerouac wrote On the Road. In this house, Kerouac stayed with Neal and Carolyn Cassidy where they apparently lived in a ménage a trois for a short time. The guide book informed us that she frequently kicked them both out – oh to have been a fly on the wall for those conversations!

More walking the following day – to Haight Ashbury, the so-called epicentre of the psychedelic 60s where 1967’s ‘Summer of Love’ originated. It’s fondly referred to as ‘Hashbury’ these days. On the way we passed some stunning-looking houses and buildings. It’s never boring walking these streets, even if it is hard on the legs. I was keen to see the locations associated with Charles Manson and one of his followers, Susan Atkins and as they are in the same district we went there first. Janis Joplin lived there too, and the Grateful Dead House wasn’t too far away so I ended up with several pictures of me in front of various walls and front doors. These are all private houses now but I guess if you buy one, aware they were once home to such iconic characters you expect to get the odd tourist posing outside your front door.

Haight Ashbury itself didn’t disappoint. There was the distinctive smell of weed in the air, which isn’t illegal in California any more – although I suspect it would make little difference if it was. There was a great vibe in the district, with colourful and eccentric characters, some hippie-themed shops, cafes and bookshops. On one corner is a clock where the time is stuck at 4:20 which is apparently ‘International Bong-Hit Time’. We read that a local clockmaker fixed it once but within a week it was back at 4:20 – wonder why ;-). The day ended with a walk to Buena Vista Park, recommended for its views over the city which again, didn’t disappoint. My legs were begging for rest by now but I forced myself to carry on for one more short climb up the hill. As you can see, the views were worth it… we got a taxi home, though.

Worn out after all the strenuous hill climbing, we only ventured as far as a local bar on Tuesday 24^th. As Paul explained in his blog, it’s the bar where the art installation he designed the software for is on display. Fort Mason Center is only a short distance from Aquatic Park. A former shipyard and embarkation point for World War 2 soldiers, it’s now host to a cultural centre with art installations, craft shops and special scientific events. I felt in need of a drink once we got there – it was the hottest day so far. We met the director of the project in the bar and had a chat with him while we cooled off. The prices weren’t exactly happy hour in there, either.

A bus ride was in order for our next destination that day. I had read about the Californian Heritage Centre and thought it sounded like a good way to learn more about the area we were visiting. It wasn’t! Well it might have been if your interest was in pictures of abandoned railway tracks or the history of railroads in general. As good as the photos of these were, that was all it was – nothing about San Francisco or California in general. Disappointed, and $20 dollars poorer we walked to the Ferry Building on the waterfront and followed the historic pier walk from piers 1 – 40 at a slow pace, reading the information plaques about some of them at various intervals. This was a much cooler and pleasant walk, away from the steep hills and the inner city heat. Coming upon the ferry departure point for trips to Alcatraz on Pier 33, we made enquiries about dates and fares and booked it there and then for Thursday 26^th. This was to be my birthday treat from Paul and initially, the plan was that I would be going alone but I was pleased when Paul decided to come along too.

We had a weird and wonderful Wednesday before then, beginning with a visit to the delightful Musee Mecanique. We happened upon it by accident on our way to check out the berth in Pier 39 where we would be moving to on Friday. The museum is located on Pier 45 in Fisherman’s Wharf and is host to one of the world’s largest (over 200) privately owned collection of coin-operated mechanical musical instruments and antique arcade machines in their original working condition. We wandered in for a quick look as it was free and ended up staying for over an hour playing the machines, listening to the old time music and marvelling at some of the ‘attractions’ (one of them actually invited you to watch naughty Madeleine lift her skirt). These pics show just some of the machines.

Pier 39’s boat docks are famous for the some 1300 sea lion squatters who, because Californian law requires boats to make way for marine mammals, have been allocated an area where they can congregate, fight, swim and bark and scratch and jostle for space to their hearts’ content. There is always a crowd of onlookers delighting in these antics and we joined them to watch the cute and cumbersome but always fascinating creatures for a while. On the way back we passed through the seaside amusement square near Pier 39. Here you can ride an old fashioned carousel, enjoy all you can eat fast food and browse the souvenir and ‘hoodie’ shops. A wooden stage hosts performances from magicians, musicians and comedians in an open mike style fashion for voluntary donations at the end of the performance. We stood and watched a female illusionist from a balcony until our attention was diverted by the shouts of outrage about ‘rights’ and freedom coming from a  man being chased by three policeman. Not long after that we spotted a guy in a wheelchair on the promenade proudly waving a banner with the words ‘f*** Trump’ emblazoned on it. A bit further on there was an opportunity to pose for pictures with Mr Trump and Kim Jong-Un (they may well have been lookalikes though). Our wonderful Wednesday concluded with a face to face confrontation with a large raccoon sitting on a rubbish bin as we entered the walkway to the dinghy dock – I don’t know who was more startled, him or us. I just love San Francisco.  

It was a scorching hot day for our Alcatraz excursion.  All advice, however, recommended bringing warm clothing for the ferry crossing even though it’s only a 20 minute trip. Indeed, most people began pulling out jumpers and scarves five minutes into the midday journey. Once we’d disembarked, the warmth returned and a jolly ranger welcomed us all with a speech about what we could expect to see and a bit of background history. The whole trip was extremely well organised. I’d been a bit worried about how so many people would see everything if we all arrived together. Instead, everyone get a sets of headphones with an auditory tour which you can pause and play at your leisure. This means each place is spaced out so that not everyone is crowded into one spot at any one time. On the day we visited, an ex-inmate was there signing copies of his autobiography. I wondered how he must have felt travelling back to the place he had been incarcerated for so many years. It’s an amazing place to visit and naturally we took lots of pictures. The most moving thing I heard on the audio narration was a description from an inmate telling how they all used to clamour for the spot where they could hear the shouts and celebrations coming from mainland San Francisco each New Year’s Eve and if they were lucky they might see the midnight fireworks. Just some of the pics from the trip below.

Late that afternoon we returned to The Haight District to check out The City Lights Bookshop. I was particularly keen to see the upstairs room where so many poets, including Bob Dylan, had read their work. The shop itself looked exactly as it must have done it its heyday and now doubles as a museum in that it has displays and information about the shop’s origin and events.

OTHER HIGHLIGHTS

We were in San Francisco for two weeks and I managed to tick off all the places and things I wanted to see and do. I loved our few days at Pier 39 with the sea lions. On one memorable occasion, we were unable to get back on the boat because two of them had chosen our pontoon to bask on. Only the day before we had read an article about how they can be viscous if they feel threatened. One had apparently dragged a woman by the arm and forced her into the water. I had seen their teeth and there was no way I was going to attempt to pass them. Paul had a go. He clapped his hands and shouted but they growled loudly showing those huge teeth and he sensibly backed away. In the end we sought help from our neighbouring Wine Therapy tour boat. The guy on there turned the water hose on them and they reluctantly slipped into the water. We moved from there a couple of days later over to the other side of the pier because our berth was needed for a dredger. That side had fewer sea lions and was a lot busier but it was handy for all the facilities.

We finally had our celebratory birthday Indian meal on 28^th September in a restaurant in Haight Ashbury. We’d both done separate things that day. I’d gone to the cinema to see Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, his take on the Manson murders. At nearly three hours long, it was nice to enjoy it in comfortable reclining seats. Paul had spent the afternoon at the artificial ‘Treasure Island’ in San Francisco Bay, to check out their marina as a possible location to move to. He met me after the film and we had a brief look round the Financial District with its skyscrapers and the usual city centre brand name shops before getting a bus to Haight, which is even more atmospheric in the evenings.

Paul’s blog has already related our trip to Golden Gate Bridge where I was keen to get a photograph of myself in front of the bridge roughly where I had posed in 1983. Left to my own devices I would have plumped for an approximate location as long as the bridge was behind me. I was amazed by Paul’s logic and calculations to determine the exact place I had stood. It was the strangest feeling to be in the very spot I had last been on 36 years previously. There were a lot more tourist attractions and shops there than I remembered. It was also a thrill for me to locate the place where James Stewart and Kim Novak had been during the filming of Hitchcock’s Vertigo.   

We spent one afternoon at San Francisco’s Botanical Gardens. They were undeniably impressive and very well kept. It was hard to believe we were in the middle of a large city. I think we would have got more out of them if we knew a little more about plants, flowers, birds – even trees! We need to learn these things.

From there we went to the Mission District because my little guide book said it had lots of bookshops. This area had a definite ‘edgy’ feel to it. It was a lot more run-down and the advice in the guide book was to avoid after dark. This was San Francisco’s original neighbourhood – my guide explained that it was;

‘built around an 18^th-century Spanish mission where nothing seemed to grow until the Gold Rush brought boatloads of adventurers, and wild speculation took root. The Mission remains fertile ground for vivid imaginations and tall tales told over strong drink – hence mural-lined streets, pirate supplies and literary bar crawls’

It had a distinct Latino vibe and there were lots of Spanish and Mexican eateries. Things were a lot cheaper here and I bought a San Francisco hoodie I’d been after at a good price. The bookshops were great too. It was a great place to walk around after dark, flaunting the advice in the book. I had a feeling it stayed lively throughout the night, and unlike other parts of the city, places seemed to stay open much later.

As we entered the month of October we began to plan our next destination and set a date on which to leave San Francisco. We settled on the 5^th when we would travel to Monterey. Our last few days there were spent back at anchor in Aquatic Park. There is a distinct autumnal chill in the air by now and Paul keeps reminding me that the further south we go the warmer it will get. We still need the heater in the evenings and early mornings but it’s been consistently clear and bright and warm during the day. I was sad to leave San Francisco but I felt we’d definitely done it justice. Pics below of our last few days and of us going under the Golden Gate Bridge en route for Monterey.

Above is a shot of Sister Midnight sitting in Aquatic cove, part of the Museums grounds in the heart of San Francisco’s waterfront.

After a few days swinging on the anchor here we moved to Pier 39 to hang out with the sea lions. Pier 39 is just along from Fishermans wharf. Both places had once been very busy commercial operations, either dealing with fishing boats or general cargo. They both have now become major tourist attractions, full of restaurants/bars and gift shops. Property prices here are so high it doesn’t make sense to be shipping goods through these wharfs, all of the trade is done by container ships over at Oakland, or similar terminals.

Pier 39 does have a marina, the east side is full of day trip boats, ranging from big boats doing ‘around the bay’ or ‘sunset cruises’ to a sailing experience on an old Americas cup yacht. On the west side, there is room for a few dozen yachts, but more famously there are a dozen pontoons set out just for the sea lions to laze around on. We had 2 days with the sea lions before we were able to move to a slip on the east side. You can see some sea lions on our pontoons at night. At one point I had a face to face showdown with a sea lion who wouldn’t let me get back to the boat.

We spent 2 weeks in San Francisco exploring the place. I hadn’t realised just how hilly it is, but the transit system is easy to use, and for $5 you get a day pass that covers all the trolleys and busses, but not the famous cable cars. I have included some pictures of the great architecture below and scattered around this post

The Long Now Foundation
The foundation are a group of enlightened people who have decided to build a clock out in the desert that will run for 10,000 years without any human intervention. The project is nearing completion now and the organisation behind it has a bar ‘The Interval’ just a few piers along from Aquatic Cove. I had to visit, mostly because they have a piece of art behind the bar that I was heavily involved with the design of. It was a commission I got from the artist Brian Eno a few years back to display his art project called 77 Million Paintings on 4 slim LCD displays. The images change on a continuous basis and should not repeat until after 77 million iterations. I designed the software and hardware that is on display at the bar, but I didn’t know it was destined for an organisation that deals with extremely long time periods. This piece runs on windows XP and uses SD Memory chips for storage, and so by its very design, has a short life expectancy. Still it was good to see it running in a very trendy bar.

At the end of one of the piers is an old amusements aracde with antique exhibits. I particularly liked these machines, but also enjoyed a game of space invaders on the big old upright consoles.

There are many funky buildings here, It’s interesting as most of them were built or rebuilt after the great earthquake in 1906.
Below Kathy is on one of the refurbished piers with some historic ships behind her.

Alcatraz
So as part of my birthday present to Kathy I bought her tickets to Alcatraz, I checked but they only did returns 😉
It was a very interesting tour, and must have been a pretty grim time for those incarcerated there, especially with the sights and sounds of SF wafting over the short stretch of water between the two.

The bridge
Of course the Golden Gate bridge is probably San Francisco’s most famous landmark. We had fun sailing under it, but Kathy had an old photo of her by the bridge taken in 1983 some 36 years ago, and wanted to go back and find the same spot. This seemed like a good challenge to me, so I fired up google street view and started looking for possible locations.

Fortunatley street view had great images from all the roads and footpaths in the area, and using the wires and the point where they cross the supports and the background hills made it fairly easy to get the spot.

Of course when we got there it was quite different, a new fence and viewing area. What pleased me was to see the square holes in the concrete filled in where I suspect the old wooden fence was fitted. In retrospect I think we were out by around 6ft, but that will have to do.

The engineering is stunning for the bridge, the wires that run the length of the bridge are amazing just in themselves.

City Lights & the Beat Poets
SF has a proud literary background and played a big part in the sixties counterculture movement, some of our favourite writers and poets made their mark here, along with many great musicians. Kathy had a particular desire to check out all the Manson related locations so I took pictures of her in front of lots of houses, places were either gruesome murders were planned or committed. We also saw the house were Kerouac wrote ‘on the road’.

Below is the room were the Beat Poets would recite their works and it was in this room that Ginsberg (He of Howl fame) and William Burroughs unleashed their radical poetry on the world.

No shortage of cruise ships here, this one was particularly massive, I think it was dutch.

Mission & 24th
Mission is a region just south of the main downtown area and we accidently found it when looking for some book shops, it has a very Mexican feel to it, which might explain some of the goods proudly being displayed for sale.

We had a great indian meal there. the area is also famous for large murals

Leaving the bay

Before we left SF I had some boat jobs to do, a few weeks earlier the cable from the solar panels to the battery charger / controller had failed. This runs down the backstay, then follows a tortuous path through the back of the boat, through the engine compartment and quarter berth. I had run a wire from the panels through a portlight down to the controller and it was getting in the way. This meant emptying out the lazzarette and all of the quarter berth. While this job was under way I decided to finally hook up the inverter that came with the boat. This is a big pure sine wave 2kw inverter/4 stage charger with sensing switch over. It’s a fancy bit of kit and probably costs thousands of dollars, but it had sat there idle all this time as it works with 110v, I had rewired the boat for 240v and I couldn’t see a role for it. However I realised that the boat has been in North american waters for a year now, and will probably do another 1 or 2 years before we head off into the pacific where I’m not expecting much shore power at all. On top of that I was not happy with the toaster that ran on 240v from a step up transformer, and given that the gas grill has stopped working, toast at sea has become a problem. Finally Rick up in Sointula baked a loaf for me using his breadmaker running off his inverter, so I bought a 110v toaster and I’m on the lookout for a bread making machine. I found that the inverter was already connected to the batteries via a big isolating switch, so rather than replumb it into the boats mains wiring, i just ran a trailing socket from it and popped a couple of slices into the toaster.
It was very fast to make some great toast, but it was disturbing seeing the meter displaying 90 AMPS being drawn from the batteries, I did the maths and worked out 4 pieces of toast cost me about 40 minutes of sunshine (Solar Power). I had got used to making ice from the sun, but peversley it seemed more odd to make toast from the sun.

So we left San Francisco in the afternoon to make a night passage to Monterey, this was a voyage of about 90 miles, to long to make in Daylight, so by leaving in the afternoon we would arrive in the following morning, the wind was forecast to be 20-25 knots from the NW which would have been great, we got the sails up and made a good 5 knots for a few hours, then the wind dropped and on came the motor.

Kathy cooked a nice soup for the evening

The next morning was quite calm and peaceful, I made toast with the new setup and that worked well. We saw Dolphins and Whales on the way down.

Arriving in Monterey
Just as we approached Monterey the wind picked up, as we followed the marks leading to the entrance their was plenty of sea life on view.

Of course Monterey was the home of John Steinbeck, and we had to visit Cannery row, the title of one of his books.

Monterey is lovely and we are enjoying just chilling out, I have picked up a few days of programming work which fits in well, and helps pay for the berth and the new Water pump needed for the engine.

Our favourite supermarket so far in California has been Trader Joe’s. the local one here has a great pumpkin display, as it has been halloween here for a few weeks already.

We should be in LA within a week.

Paul Collister.

Wednesday 11^th September.  

As we made our way towards Newport through the night, in the fog and the darkness, a strange thing happened. Not long after I had taken over the midnight watch, I went up to do the usual checks and immediately noticed that the moon was in a different place – on our starboard side instead of port as it had been 10 minutes previously. It was so unnerving that I called out to Paul and he sleepily mumbled that we must have changed course. It turned out that the autohelm had crashed and turned us 180 degrees and I hadn’t even felt the movement.  It hadn’t happened before but once we had got it back on course, I kept a more vigilant eye on it. Taking over from Paul at 4am I asked if it had crashed on his watch and it hadn’t. An hour in, while I stood on the steps looking ahead, I actually felt and then saw the wheel turn us to starboard again. At least I knew what to do this time, but why on my watch! Paul thinks I must have some magnetic device on, or emanating from, me.  The highlight of both my watches occurred at around 7am just as the sun was beginning to come up. On the horizon to port I could see what looked like several plumes of steam emerging from the water. Then I saw the unmistakeable huge black shape of a whale’s tail slap down on the surface. They were too far away to see properly, or get a picture but there were at least seven of them to gaze at for five minutes or so before they disappeared out of view.

The side to side strong swell continued for the whole passage but it was a lot milder than the previous overnighter. We had another bar to cross at the entrance to Newport and Paul remarked – somewhat casually I thought – that we would be crossing it at the most dangerous part of the day, which confirmed my suspicion that he enjoys pitting his wits against perilous challenges in a ‘gung-ho’ manner. It was a bit like riding the ‘Colorado Boat’ rapids at adventure theme parks – lots of white turbulent water and huge breaking waves on the rocky breakwaters either side of us but after the strong swells we’d experienced most of the way it didn’t seem too bad and didn’t last long. The worst part was navigating our way around a massive government dredger at the narrow river entrance. It was moving very slowly in all directions as it sucked up the mud in the shallows so it was tricky to predict its direction and the wall of the breakwater was very close by so our movement was a bit limited.  For the first time, I took the helm to motor us underneath a bridge. The Yaquina Bay Bridge forms part of US Highway 101 and the Newport Marina and RV Park is situated just below it. It always looks as if the mast is far too big to clear the bridges we’ve sailed under – an optical illusion that you never quite get blasé about. We fuelled up at the fuel dock and berthed opposite it about 4pm.   

Checking in at the office, we asked the guy what he would recommend to us as ‘must sees’ in Newport. He seemed surprised by the question and muttered something about two lighthouses, appeared to think about it for a moment and then remarked ‘but everyone’s seen lighthouses haven’t they’ – he couldn’t think of anything else worth visiting. This was surprising to us because Newport had been praised as a great and pretty resort by other cruisers we’d chatted with. That evening we decided to look it up on the internet and had an amusing hour watching online tourist board clips about the delights of Newport. Listening to the gushing promotional commentaries about what there is to see and do, it did indeed seem that the two lighthouses, a beach, promenade and seafood restaurants were its top attractions. They hedged their bets by ending all the clips with words like ‘yet there’s so much more’ without ever stating exactly what the ‘so much more’ was. The picture below might go some way to explaining why.

The park provides a courtesy bus for guests and drops them off at various locations in the town so we headed over to the office in the morning for the 10 50 departure. The driver and his handful of passengers engaged in lively interactions as they boarded and continued conversations while driving along. Obviously they all needed to raise their voices considering distance apart and the noise of the engine. For instance, an innocent enquiry about a specific location sparked off a discussion about how useless that town’s predictions and precautions about earthquakes were. The half dozen people on board (not us, naturally) all joined in, along with the driver, voicing their own opinions on the subject (basically it seems we’re all doomed if an earthquake occurs because the experts know nothing about it). Next, the poor sea lions came up for debate. One man was keen to tell us what a nuisance they were with their noise and their fighting and the crowds they attract. He scoffed at the fact they were protected from harassment because it would be great entertainment to just fling rocks onto their pontoons. Thankfully, the other passengers didn’t see fit to encourage him. We got off at the Bay Front district which at first glance resembled the typical main street of Western films, in that the buildings were wooden, low and a bit ramshackle. Here though, as we strolled along it, we passed a ‘Ripley’s Believe It Or Not’ and a Waxworks Museum, plus the usual bars, seafood restaurants, gift shops and art and craft galleries.

The unmistakeable sound of sea lions drew us to their hangout. This area has been allocated to them and they are protected from the type of harassment our friend on the bus described, by laws with hefty fines for anyone who breaks them. Just by being allowed to live in their natural environment with the minimum of human intervention (and this only to help them), they provide brilliant and free entertainment for the people who come to watch them. Their ‘barking’ didn’t bother me in the least, and we’ve heard it a lot this month. I could have watched them for hours – huge, intelligent, playful and fascinating creatures.

When I managed to tear myself away from them we walked uphill to the ‘Art Deco’ district which loosely fits its description with a few shops and buildings bearing the architectural style of the 20s and 30s, but to be fair, the mission to preserve and develop the culture of Art Deco is fairly recent so it’s a work in progress. Nye Beach, however, did live up to the praise it was given in the video clips. Coming into view in the early afternoon sunshine, it presented us with a glorious view of a long, sandy and beautiful stretch of beach which reminded me of rugged Cornish coastlines in the UK. It was largely empty too, as the pictures show.

Both in need of refreshment now, we opted to return to the Bayfront area, preferring the seaside vibe there and also so that Paul could test out the claim that ‘Mo’s’ restaurant chain produce the best seafood chowder. Discovering that the beer-battered salmon and chips came with a free bowl of chowder made it an easy choice for him. It was nice enough, he said but he’d had (and made) better. Unsurprisingly there were no vegan options in this famous seafood chain but I enjoyed my bowl of fries and ketchup nevertheless.

Next day was Friday 13^th, but despite the date and the added superstition about sailing on a Friday – across a perilous bar to boot – off we set at 8 45pm for another night passage with fog making visibility poor. The waves crashing on the breakwaters as we prepared to exit the safety of the harbour were again an alarming sight but by the time we hit the safe water area the fog had cleared and we were able to let the autohelm take over. Soon, the side to side rolling began again and by evening it was too unstable to cook anything so dinner was pre-cooked veggie sausages heated on the hob to have in sandwiches. The full harvest moon lit up surroundings for my 8 – midnight watch. By this time the wind had allowed us to put the sails up so the engine was off and I had a peaceful and uneventful four hours.

It was my 59th birthday when Paul woke me for the 4am stint. I noticed that the engine was back on and the moon was still creating a comforting silver path across the surface of the sea. Not a bad beginning to a birthday. The heating was on and I watched the sunrise on a much calmer sea while drinking my morning coffee.

We were bound for a place called Crescent City, our first stop in the state of California, and we got there at 5 30, where we were greeted with the sight of several huge pelicans both on the water and in the air. 

The berth wasn’t ideal – the pontoon was covered with broken shells and bird droppings, it was smelly and there was a super yacht with a noisy generator running directly in front of us. After a night at sea, though it was just nice to be able to relax a bit, and it was a warm, sunny evening. We walked over to chat to Mike and Sue who we had met in Newport. They had been to Crescent City before and recommended a couple of restaurants to us. We went for a walk along the waterfront first, for a chance to check out what the place had to offer, especially since we might be stuck here a while if the weather turned rough. In truth, it doesn’t have a great deal to offer. The city was virtually destroyed by four tsunamis in 1964, while more recent damage came from the tsunami caused by the 2011 Japanese earthquake when the harbour took the brunt of it.  The waterfront was pleasant though as we strolled along looking at the menus of its restaurants, before finally settling on the first one we’d looked at. It was a ‘diner style’ establishment and the food was great, so all in all I had a good birthday.

We only had to spend one full day in Crescent City as it happened. It rained pretty much all that day and soaked us both through on the walk back from a shopping trip, but the forecast was thankfully wrong about three whole days of rain. When we woke up on Monday 16^th September it was bright and sunny and though rain might fall later, Paul deemed it safe to move on. Out of the harbour by 8am, the swell caused the usual side to side rolling and Paul put the mainsail up to balance us. He said we’d soon be heading into warmer weather. The rain began not long after that. It was heavy enough to force us both down below to rely on the AIS and radar. Nothing was around but the radar kept sounding an alarm caused by the heavy rain so Paul turned it off. By 1 o’clock it was dry and bright again. The next alarm came from the coastguard who put a warning out on the radio to warn mariners to watch out for a giant water spout! I couldn’t help picturing us on the boat swirling around like a toy boat on top of that spout. Thankfully we saw no sight of it.

Tuesday 17^th September saw us arrive at Fort Bragg after a placid and uneventful (even the VHF had stayed quiet) overnight passage. We approached the inevitable bar at lunchtime and I had to ask if this one was perilous. Paul was a bit non-committal but I heard him call the coastguard to check if any warnings were in force for it. All the buoys we passed on the way in were full of sea lions – they don’t seem to mind the loud clanging bells or fog horn noises that these buoys emit at regular intervals.

The weather was finally more like you would expect in California – sunny, warm and blue skies. After crossing what I would describe as a ‘lively’ bar, we found ourselves on a narrow river. I took the helm while Paul affixed fenders and mooring lines. As the only boat manoeuvring along the river, the people sitting alongside its bars and cafes naturally stared at us and I was a little put off by a couple of guys asking if I was the Sister Midnight of the boat. It’s not easy to interact with people too far away to hear clearly while trying to keep an eye on the depth and the way ahead. It got trickier when we tried to locate our berth. The piles didn’t have letters or numbers on them so pinpointing B5 was a challenge, especially when the only person around we could ask turned out to be deaf. We entered three berths before finding the correct one. Each one was a tight fit so expert and precise manoeuvring was needed to get in and back out again.

Fort Bragg didn’t get much of a write up in my Lonely Planet guide. They describe it as nearby Mendocino’s ‘ugly stepsister’ and declare the southern end of town as ‘hideous’, while downtown is ‘scrappy’. I found it quite charming in a ‘working environment’ way…and it has resident sea lions! We heard their barking and went for a closer look at a group of them lying on the opposite pontoon. They are curious about humans and very intelligent which is why they are so easy to train (balancing balls on their noses at some attractions for instance). This gang looked at us but I got the feeling it would be sensible to keep a respectable distance.

It was Paul’s birthday the following day. Originally we had hoped to be in San Francisco for both our birthdays so we decided to have a joint celebration meal once we got there. To get diesel meant launching the dinghy and taking empty containers to a fuel dock further down the river. Paul returned from doing this and suggested I join him for a trip on the river as it had turned out to be pretty. It was very scenic and tranquil as the pictures below show. I loved the seal that seemed to be disguising itself as a log – successfully too judging by the seagulls we saw perched on it!    

The sea lions continued to provide great entertainment and I hadn’t even been too bothered by their noise in the night. During the afternoon, however, we were both shocked to hear an extremely loud explosion from one of the pontoons opposite our berth. It turned out to be a firework and obviously all the sea lions that had been basking on it disappeared into the water. They came back a couple of hours later and we heard no more during our time there so I didn’t have to call the number to report harassment as I was ready to do if there had been any more. They love lying side by side on the pontoons, and create quite a sight when they do.

We left Fort Bragg on the 19^th after Paul had carried out comprehensive checks on the weather and sea states. It had been uncertain whether we would go but he concluded that if we hadn’t left by 2 o’clock we might be stuck for days. The worst we could expect was a bit of bounciness. I took the helm again for the return journey on the narrow river. It was high tide so no danger of going aground at least. Out in the bay waves were crashing onto the breakwaters, sending up towers of white spray and the sea looked distinctly choppy. Above us, a helicopter was circling the area after a pan pan pan call had been put out about two kayakers who’d been reported missing. Paul was pretty certain he’d seen them enter the harbour as we left it and he called to say so. We could only hope it was indeed them.

We hit the swell immediately after crossing the bar and I had an anxious 30 minutes or so while Paul struggled to put the spinnaker pole up while the boat was lurching from side to side. We didn’t need it after all that because the wind died down and on went the engine for the duration of the passage to Drakes Bay – the last stop before San Francisco.

We left Noyo River ( Fort Bragg) on the afternoon flood tide, just before slack water and got through the bar without much effort, but the channel was quite narrow and there were quite big rollers just 20 metres either side of us. Once clear we got the sails up and enjoyed a sail south with NW winds of 15 knots. Sadly the further out we got the bigger the swell became, about 15-20 ft at times and they were often on our beam (side) or coming from behind. This caused the boat to roll quite wildly, something Kathy and I can handle just fine, but the poor old sails kept collapsing then filling with a loud ‘whack’ shaking the whole boat. I had a spinnaker pole out to try and tame the headsail, and a preventer on the main to stop it swinging around, but I couldn’t bear hearing the sails taking such a battering. This kind of stress really reduces the lifetime of the sails, so after a while I sheeted the main in tight, furled up the Yanke and we motored on. It was about to get dark, and I thought this would at least make Kathy’s watch (20:00-00:00) easier, and if possible I would get the sails out later. Strong winds had been forecast.

As it turned out the wind dropped and we motored all the way into Drakes Bay, just north of San Francisco. This was a sheltered anchorage and very pretty. It is located just behind Point Reyes, which is where the weather fax transmissions come from.

We went ashore for a walk and saw a coyote stalking a deer. There were more Sea Lions making a great deal of noise.

The next day, Saturday, we headed off at 08:30 to cross the San francisco bar just after slack on the flood tide. My daughter Yasmin suggested I periscope the trip under the Golden Gate bridge, this is an app that allows you to video stream over the internet from your phone. I had a play and it seemed to work, so I strapped the camera to the top of the solar panels where it would have a bit of a view looking forward.

The video is still there I think under paulcollister, approaching SF. however just before we passed under the bridge we had a slight problem. I went to the bow to film the bridge passing overhead and left Kathy on the helm, I was filming the bridge as we approached it when I looked back to see a sailboat ploughing directly at us, and only a few boat lengths away. He was bombing along under sail, and so had right of way. I think he was of the mind that we had to get out of his way. Looking at Kathy, she was a bit tied up with her messaging app on her phone and hadn’t seen this boat. I raced back to the cockpit, Threw the autopilot switch to manual, knowing in my mind that I wouldn’t have time to get out of the way, but I jumped back anyway, grabbed the wheel just as the other boat changed course and passed behind us. they didn’t wave back to me or even smile at me, in fact they looked decidedly unhappy! Oh well, we must try harder next time to ignore our phones and concentrate on the navigation side of things.

We both were a little shaken by how close the other boat had been, but pushed on, I carried on filming, but didn’t press the record button, so we didn’t actually get the bridge passing recorded.
Once through the bridge we turned to starboard and headed for Aquatic cove, a little protected anchorage in downtown San Francisco. It’s a lovely spot, and only $10 / night to anchor.

San Francisco is a great city, we have spent a couple of days walking the streets, and it has a great atmosphere. I will leave the details to Kathy as it’s much more exciting for her too be here. I’m hoping to see some science/tech/maritime technology in the varuious museums, plus I gather there are some great art galleries here.

We expect to be here for a few more weeks before we head on.

Paul Collister

Sunday September the 1^st saw us waving goodbye to Robert and Vanessa when they weighed anchor at 9 o’clock and motored off during a break in the rain, with Ucluelet as their intended destination.

It had been a grey, drizzly start to the day but had brightened a little when we set off at 2 o’clock for the anchorage at Tofino. There, we would go ashore for provisions and begin our two day passage to America at around 8pm. God’s Pocket has no phone coverage so it wasn’t until we were well on our way to Tofino that afternoon that Paul got a message from Robert to say they’d had engine trouble and were back in the marina at Tofino, having been towed there by the nautical equivalent of the AA. It took us two attempts to anchor in the bay when we reached Tofino – the first time we inadvertently ended up alarmingly close to the location of a submarine cable on the sea bed. Naturally, our first call was to see how Robert and Vanessa were faring, so we dinghied straight over to For Good, almost running over the diver who had come to fix their problem. It turned out that the kelp that permeates the water in the area had clogged the water intake system. More expense for them, and yet another piece of boating equipment to add to the ‘to buy’ list. We commiserated, knowing only too well the frustration that accompanies broken parts and thwarted plans.

On our return from the Co-op we stopped at a viewing platform to sit and look over the bay. I spotted movement just under the roof of the huge fish processing plant near the marina which turned out to be four raccoons on a ledge at the top of the wall. They were balanced precariously and I thought they were getting ready to leap down on to the grass below, but instead they disappeared one by one into the building through a gap between the roof and the wall. They looked for all the world like a gang of robbers with their natural black eye-masked faces and their furtive backward glances before they entered the gap. It’s hard to imagine what they did in there but it seemed to us that it wasn’t their first time. One of them emerged a few minutes later, jumped down and scurried off towards the wooded area where I was heading to see if I could spot any more in the trees there. Paul managed to get a picture of it.

Before returning to Sister Midnight, we helped Robert and Vanessa turn their boat around to make it easier for them to motor off in the morning and then sat in the cockpit of For Good for a chat and another farewell drink. I could have happily stayed all evening, but time was getting on and we had to set off when the tide was best for us. Traversing shallow water on a foggy evening where rocks abound takes considerable skill and planning, not to mention nerve. Luckily, Paul possesses all of those qualities and he motored us over the initial tricky parts before I took the first watch. This was our first overnight passage for a long time, and with no moon and thick fog it was very dark. Visibility was so poor, there seemed little point in being in the cockpit much, apart from checking the engine temperature and the course. The combination of the AIS and radar for reassurance is such a boon at times like this. Even if other vessels don’t have AIS, the radar picks out anything around us. Without it, it would feel like hurtling blindly on at considerable speed at the mercy of anything that might be in our path. That is an incredibly unnerving feeling and yet I still felt compelled to go up at intervals to peer out at the darkness. The stern lights lit up the swirling fog, creating a pleasing atmospheric image and a feeling of being quite alone out there.

So began our four hours on, four hours off watch system. We tend to stick to the same pattern whereby I take the 8pm – midnight and 4 – 8am slots, mainly because I like to see the sunrise but also because it seems best suited to our sleep patterns.  If we’re not sailing it’s just a case of keeping the course by tweaking the autohelm’s dials a few degrees to port or starboard, checking the screens and horizon for vessels and making sure the engine temperature is constant. During one of my trips up to the cockpit just before dawn, I noticed a small round object on the starboard seat. It was too dark to make out what it was so I shone the torch and saw that it was a tiny yellow bird, scrunched up with its feathers blowing in the breeze. The torch beam made it twitch but it didn’t fly off, and I wondered if it was cold or exhausted, especially if it was a young one. I fetched a warm cloth from the cupboard above the engine to place next to it but as soon as I got near, it flew off and could well have stayed with us for the rest of the morning somewhere else on the boat but I didn’t see it again. The picture isn’t very clear but you get the idea.

With the fog gone by 7am, the day passed with our sleeping and watching routine as we journeyed out into the big wide open of the North Pacific. We had crossed the border between Canada and America at some point during the night, and I thought not for the first time how strange it was to do that without all the kerfuffle that is usually involved at border crossings.

On the morning of Tuesday 3^rd September more fishing boats began to appear as we neared the port of Astoria. This is where we would be clearing in and Paul had timed our arrival to ensure we crossed the Columbia River bar safely. Still slightly groggy from waking at around 10 30, I was only half listening to why it was so crucial to get the timing right for this bar. I heard him say that many boats had sunk there and how dangerous it could be but I assumed that was ‘in the old days’ or that they’d been the victims of historic pirates. All I knew was that it seemed to take ages to cross this bar. Paul was at the helm steering and I was looking out for the marker buoys and reporting their colours as well as keeping a close eye on the depth. I could see Astoria in the distance as we lurched from side to side in the swell but it didn’t seem to be getting any closer. A fishing boat contacted Paul on the VHF to chat with him about our boat, having admired it as he passed. I heard him remark that the bar shouldn’t present too much of a problem to us today, and then later he made a point of calling Paul again to compliment him on his skill at crossing the Astoria bar for the first time. It dawned on me then that there was more to this bar than I had thought. After declaring that we were through it, Paul told me it was known as ‘The Graveyard of The Pacific’, and that the unfortunate boats that had come a cropper there were in fact from recent and present times as well as from those ‘old days’. These posters from Astoria’s maritime museum convey information that I was blissfully ignorant of before we crossed it (but of course we would have to face it again when we left).

We filled up with fuel, Paul went to check us in with customs and then we tied up in our berth. I was amazed that my presence wasn’t even required for our entry to the US. Paul took my passport, answered a few questions and we were both cleared for a year’s stay in America. That’s my kind of border control.

Despite being tired from the passage we were keen to check out our surroundings, so went for a walk along the Riverfront Walk, a coastal boardwalk complete with a railway track that runs a trolley service during the day in the summer months. It was a lovely evening, clear and bathed in the pink and orange hues of the sinking sun. There was plenty to admire along the boardwalk as the pictures show. My favourite was a disused pier which had been completely taken over by an assortment of seabirds. Iconic American images kept appearing, such as railway crossing signs, fire hydrants, mailboxes and box car carriages on the railway sidings. I felt happy to be back in America.

We stopped for food and drink at a waterside establishment called Buoy Beer which is next to the Buoy Brewery that produces a wide range of ales and beers. I felt it would be rude not to try one, especially as it helps animals (see below). A viewing floor with see-through plates allows customers to watch sea lions underneath them as they swim or rest on the underwater pillars. Little did I know this would be the first of many sea lions I would have the pleasure of looking at in America.   

Next day we decided to take a ride on the ‘Old 300’ Riverfront historic trolley. We knew that it drops passengers off at the Safeway supermarket, a couple of miles along the track. It turned out to be a delightful experience. Run by volunteers, the trolley was built in 1913 and was in service until 1933 when they were deemed too slow and streetcar services ended. After time spent in various museums and several attempts at restoration, an all-volunteer group in Astoria raised funds and arranged for expert manpower to completely restore and preserve the car. It’s clear that the drivers and conductors are passionate about her. They provide a humorous and informative commentary and interact warmly with the passengers. The interior wooden carriage is gorgeous, done out in the style of the 1930s, complete with old-style adverts on the walls. Passengers get to contribute to the experience when instructed by turning the seats around by use of a lever on the side so that they face the direction of travel for the return trip. The views across the bay were glorious and we were told about the birds on the disused pier (cormorants mainly but we spotted herons and others…) as well as the sea lions who have taken over pontoons further along the track. The commentary also informed us about Astoria’s canneries and other landmarks of its fishing industry. They were particularly proud of Astoria’s place in movie history, pointing out the places that have been used as locations for several big films such as Free Willy, The Goonies and Kindergarten Cop. At intervals, the trolley bell was rung, either by the driver or anyone else who wanted to have a go, providing an iconic American sound with its ‘clanging’ refrain.

We got off at the Safeway stop for our first US supermarket shop in over a year. At least this time I knew what to expect regarding the high prices but it was still hard not to flinch when converting dollars to pounds (especially in this current political climate). The wide range of products and superior quality is just as captivating though. Before waiting for the trolley to go back we took a walk further along the track towards the sound of honking coming from the sea lions we’d been told about. A little too far away to see clearly, we could tell there were hundreds of them basking on the empty pontoons, jostling and fighting and they are never quiet. Warning – there will be a lot more sea lion reports and pictures in future blog posts.

On Thursday 5^th we got on our bikes and cycled across a long and very busy bridge to the town of Warrenton about 5 miles west of Astoria. We felt in need of the exercise after days on the boat. The bridge spans Youngs Bay and is part of US Highway 101, the 1,540 mile north-south Pacific coastal road that runs through the states of Washington, Oregon and California. Road trips have been, and still are such a major part of American culture, I hope we get to do at least one while we’re here (to Arizona and the Grand Canyon would be an ideal one). Huge lorries and fast cars sped past us on the rather narrow cycle track. It wouldn’t be a good idea to wobble or topple on this road! We stopped to look at a group of big white birds gliding across the water as one, like they were forming a living raft. We guessed it might have something to do with scooping up fish.

Our trip naturally took in a couple of shops (or stores) on the outskirts, and then we cycled through the town of Warrenton itself (pop. 5,050). It’s mainly a fishing and logging town, fairly small and neat and charming. It looked typically American to me. The ride back across the bridge was even more hairy due to its being rush hour, and the noise from the speeding traffic was literally deafening. By the time we got back we’d been out for over five hours, most of which had been cycling. I felt saddle sore and heavy-legged for a day or so afterwards.

We had a cultural couple of days after all that exercise and took ourselves off to the Astoria Maritime Museum on the 6th. It had rained heavily during the night and was damp and chilly in the afternoon so a museum seemed the ideal place to go. Unlike in the UK, museums here charge admission fees but this one was well worth the money. It was here I learned more about the notorious Columbia River bar we had crossed. Films of it formed part of the exhibits and showed it at its worse, with waves of 30 feet causing chaos and distress. There was also an A-Z list of all the boats that have been lost or destroyed on it over the years. The admission fee included a walk around a decommissioned lightship. We got the chance to see what life was like for the crew on the Columbia lightship. They had to endure long stretches of boredom, monotony and rough weather in winter that prevented supplies reaching them, as well as having to ride frequent gale-force storms when they guided ships to the bar. She was replaced by a navigational buoy in 1979, and now there are only channel markers to guide us over it. They seem to do the job, though (thankfully).

At the time of our visit there was a cruise ship docked opposite the museum which looked a lot more attractive than the typical huge cruise liners. This was the luxury paddle steamer Queen of the West and we stood to watch her being loaded with a staggering amount of provisions for her next voyage. The weather had improved when we came out so we cycled the length of the coastal track for another look at the sea lions and then into town via the inland main road to look at some of the architecture on the hilly streets there.

The Heritage Museum was our visit for Saturday. Here we spent an interesting couple of hours ambling around the exhibits reading about the town’s history and its notable events. It was surprising to discover Astoria had experienced some Ku Klux Klan intervention in the 1920s. I read later that the museum used to have a mannequin dressed in the distinctive white, hooded outfit but it’s no longer on display, presumably due to objections. We finished the day with a drink at one of the waterside pubs adjacent to the trolley track. Pics below of the day.

Our stay in Astoria was stretching into a longer one than we expected because of the need to consider tides and weather for the journey to San Francisco. It would be a 5 day passage from there, and the forecast was for lots of rain over the next few days which wasn’t a very attractive option. We decided to visit the Sunday street market and think about it later. As soon as I saw the market I knew what Paul’s opinion would be. I wasn’t disappointed – something along the lines of ‘overpriced tat and some muddy veg described as organic’ ;-). Still, I bought some of those veg and browsed the tat before we cycled to Safeway for provisions, having made the decision to leave for Newport the following day. The promised rain showed itself as a heavy downpour just as we began the ride back and it soaked through our clothes within minutes. That evening our marina neighbours invited us aboard their boat for a drink and a chat. They were going home to Portland by car in the morning and kindly gave us all their leftover fruit and vegetables.

Monday 9^th was another full day in Astoria due to the heavy rain which had continued throughout the night and didn’t stop until midday. I took the opportunity to do the laundry and make use of the marina’s drier while we had the chance. We finally left our mooring at 5pm on the 10^th September on a clear, bright and sunny afternoon. This time when we crossed the bar, I didn’t even realise it. I was down below making vegetable pasties! There was a pretty strong swell too. I bet there aren’t many people who can say they were cutting out circular pastry shapes and spooning filling onto them while being lurched around on a notorious killer bar. Here are the finished results anyway. Left in the oven to stay warm, they made a tasty and convenient hand-held ‘at sea’ dinner.

Before I took the 8pm watch, Paul called me up to the cockpit because he thought he’d spotted whales in the twilight. By the time I got up there they had disappeared but what I did spot, which had us both laughing, was a group of brown heads. Some curious sea lions had come to look at us – four pairs of huge round eyes with long lashes were wide open as if in outrage at such an invasion. I kept an eye out for the whales during my watch. I had the benefit of a bright moonlight path to light up the surface but didn’t spot any. Newport would our next destination as we continue our southerly voyage down America’s west coast.

We left Astoria on the 10th September 2019 for Newport. Astoria was good, great shops and a lovely waterfront. The people there have been very friendly. Before we left we visited the heritage museum where Kathy checked out wheelchairs, she liked this model.

Also in the Museum they had pictures of the old hospital and below the hospital governors meet, this won’t mean much if you’re not from the UK, but Jeremy Paxman doesn’t seemed to have aged at all since then

The trip to Newport meant leaving in the late afternoon so we could cross the bar on a weak flood tide. Then an overnight sail to Newport, however the timings meant we had to cross the Newport Bar at the worst time. Thankfully the weather was mild and so although the waves looked scary it was fine in the middle of the channel. Once we were under the bridge it was a short hop to the marina.

Newport is a lovely town, with 2 lighthouses and a beach. We managed to fit in all the highlights in a day’s walk around town.

One of it’s main attractions is a group of concrete pontoons built for the sea lions. It’s a tourist draw alright, and quite amusing, however after 20 minutes we decided we should get ready for an early start to get out to Crescent City. The weather forecast wasn’t going our way.

Our trip to Crescent city was uneventful, we sailed half way but the wind turned to the south and we ended up motoring the rest of the way. We saw very few boats on the way, but at night the fishing vessels seem to have very bright lights, I must find out why, but they are like football stadium lights pointing forward from the bow.

Crescent City is good, as there is no bar to worry about, but plenty of rocks all the same. The lighthouse below, as you approach the harbour isn’t on the Navionics chart, which is a bit worrying.

The marina was wiped out by a Tsunami from Japan in 2011 and has been rebuilt to be the strongest on the west coast. The piles and pontoons are very sturdy and twice the normal size.

We arrived on Kathy’s birthday so went in hunt of a restaurant that might have a vegan offering, sadly Crescent City doesn’t excel in this area, and poor Kathy ended up with an ‘eat all you can’ Salad bar in a seafood cafe. She actually quite enjoyed it, she is going to have to wait until we get to San Francisco for a present from me.

Well the pontoons at CC are great, but we didn’t get to sample any of its other delights (if they exist?), as we needed to head on early the next day in order to escape some strong southerly winds that were on the way. Also it was pouring down and the rain was predicted to last 3-5 days. I took the opportunity to check everything was ok at the back of the engine, gearbox oil and water pump, as they had had a good thrashing since I had them in bits in Sointula. I was very disappointed to find the water pump I rebuilt with the help of John in Sointula was pissing sea water out the back end. We couldn’t continue with this problem. I guessed the Lip Seal had broken, and as this was what we had just replaced, I guess the damaged shaft is the problem, so I need to buy a new pump, at around £300.
Fortunately, due to me messing up on the last replacement pump kit order, I had another spare kit which included bearings and a lip seal, I just wasn’t sure if I had the tools to replace it on board. As it turned out it was quite easy and 4 hours later the pump was back on the engine and running fine without any leaks. The oil cooler I replaced also seemed good along with the gearbox oil level. However the Impeller hadn’t fared too well, I’m not sure why, as it was also new back in April, only 200 engine hours ago.

So at 7:30AM we left Crescent City for Fort Bragg / Noyo River.
I kept a close eye on the water pump for the whole passage and it seems to be holding up. Hopefully it will get us to SF where I can get a new pump ordered and fitted. We had to motor the whole way, but once around Cape Mendocino the wind dropped and the sun shone bright, it really felt like we had arrived in a new country, suddenly for the first time in a long time it was t-shirt weather.
We were assigned a berth, B5, by the harbour master, but ended up mooring three times before we found the correct berth. Mostly due to the complete lack of signage on the pontoons.
There is no fuel available here, so I’m going up river in the dinghy to another harbour where I can get fuel tomorrow.
We are only two days from San Francisco now, but it may be Sunday or Monday before we get there, as we are going to checkout the state park at Drakes Bay.

Paul Collister.

Thursday 15^th August – Still in Walter’s Cove, halfway through the month and it seemed we were finally rid of Fogust’s fog. It was blisteringly hot by mid-morning when we got in the dinghy and motored over to the shore on the other side of the cove. Paul wanted to get an idea of the water’s depth for when we leave and also to have a look in the little store in the Kyuquot Native community village which we’d been looking at through the binoculars. The water is crammed with huge, sprawling seaweed plants (kelp) and I was afraid they would get tangled in the outboard’s propeller but at least the water was clear enough to see any large rocks. We tied up at the dock outside the store at the same time as a lone kayaker and had a chat with him. Hailing from The Netherlands, he had been kayaking his way around Vancouver Island for five weeks and had almost completed his journey. He told us that one night he had encountered a mother bear with cubs scarily near his tent while camping in the woods and that he often heard animal noises near him at night. We all went into the store, which was low on stock at that time but we bought cold drinks and chocolate bars and sat on the pontoon to chat some more with our new Dutch friend about our respective journeys.

An hour or so later we tied up at Java the Hutt café to make use of their wifi. The owner lives up to his description in Waggoners Cruising Guide as one of the friendliest people on the coast, who makes a point of chatting with all his customers. He told us that the building used to operate as the village school house. Overhearing this, a First Nation lady sitting at a nearby table with her family looked across and informed us she used to attend the school back in the 70s and that she hailed from the village we’d just come from.

We also learned that everyone looks forward to Thursdays as it’s the day the Uchuck III arrives with supplies for local shops and businesses. For that reason the café would be closing early so we wouldn’t be able to have dinner there as planned. We opted for a late lunch at 4pm instead so that we would be back in time to watch the Uchuck dock just along from our berth. The boat also brings guests for the resort and fishing lodges and later on we sat in our cockpit watching the bustle and activity early in the evening as passengers were met, greeted and taken off to various lodges and boats, while cargo was unloaded onto skiffs and carts to be distributed around the island.

Next day we waited for the shop to open at 1pm and stocked up with a few more provisions before leaving, along with Robert and Vanessa, at 2pm for an anchorage at Dixie Cove. There was enough wind for Paul to get the headsail out, so I made the most of the peace and the gentle motion to sit at the bow enjoying the warmth and the stunning views all around me.

For Good took the lead on this trip and were already anchored in the outer cove when we arrived at 5 o’clock. We went further in to the inner cove and just as we were setting the anchor, a motor boat sped up alongside us to warn that they were logging in the forest opposite and not to be alarmed by loud explosions. I’m glad he told us because the noise when it came about 30 minutes later was extremely loud and seemed to me to shake the whole boat! Thankfully there were no more after that one. We dinghied over to For Good with some beer to discuss the trip for the following day, getting back to ours just before it got dark. Despite the warmer weather it gets very chilly once the sun goes down, and it seemed ages before we got back into the warmth of the boat.

As discussed with Robert and Vanessa, we would be heading for Rugged Point at 10 on Saturday 17th, a short trip to a spot with some good beaches and recommended woodland trails. I was most interested to read in Waggoners that bear and cougar prints had been spotted on the beaches there. Luckily, since we planned to spend some time on these ‘spectacular’ beaches, the weather improved from cloudy to decidedly hot and sunny as the morning went on. At 11 o’clock we anchored opposite a beach with several tents pitched on it.

The four of us dinghied over to the long beach, greatly excited to see a black bear ambling along on the adjacent beach. After hauling the dinghies up the beach we discovered the trail entrances weren’t located on this particular one but I was thrilled to see that there were paw prints, which Robert and Vanessa were able to confirm were indeed bear and cougar prints. Before heading off to the next beach, they went back to their boat to pick up their bear spray!

We enjoyed almost four hours of beachcombing, walking, sitting in the sun, chatting to other visitors and taking pictures. The trails involved pulling ourselves up by ropes on some of the steeper parts! Back on the beach we were keen to find a sand dollar. A lady we spoke to had informed us she had seen one nearby. Vanessa described them to us and not long after, she found one which she was kind enough to give to us as a souvenir. Hard to believe it’s actually the skeleton of a type of sea urchin; it looks so much like someone decorated a stone with an exquisite flower. Robert said he thought one of the animal prints looked like it might be a wolf; I marvelled at the fact that we had been walking in the same habitat of so many wild creatures.

Early on Sunday morning, the fog I thought we had seen the last of, returned and caused some uncertainty about whether we should move on or not, especially as the coastguard had warned of gales in the area. Then it started to rain! Still, we concluded it was ok to go (despite Paul’s casual remark that in the worst case scenario we would just be blown onto some jagged rocks). The waves bounced us around immediately we left the shelter of the anchorage. From our skimpy beach clothes of the day before, we now had to pull on thermal layers, oilies and hats and gloves. Before long, the waves were pushing and pulling us in a side-to-side motion that was annoying but bearable and we’d certainly endured worse. I just hoped Robert and Vanessa weren’t finding it too uncomfortable. We listened to every weather forecast that came through (often too distorted to make out) and discovered it looked likely the rough conditions would continue for a few more days but would probably get no worse.

After negotiating our way through a narrow gap and avoiding the many rocks in the area, the shelter of the anchorage, as always, provided respite from the elements and by 1 30 we were settled and secure in Nuchalitz Provincial Park. It was too overcast and chilly to go exploring so once Paul had been over to see how For Good had fared on the journey, we shut the hatches and got on with the enjoyable pastime of relaxing.

Tahsis, the port of call for Monday 19^th had a very enticing description regarding facilities on offer in Waggoners. We could expect wide ‘cell’ coverage (note how I have become used to using that word instead of mobile), WiFi, shore power, water, fuel and a huge supermarket. All things we take for granted during daily life in the UK, which although are not missed terribly when they aren’t freely available, does make you appreciate them after a period of doing without their benefits. Robert and Vanessa left the anchorage at 9am but as Paul wanted to have a look at the abandoned First Nation village referred to in the book, we said we’d meet them in Tahsis. I hoped I hadn’t made a mistake electing to stay on board to catch up on other things as he dinghied off to explore, especially as he was gone for quite a while. It turned out the abandoned village wasn’t much to look at but he had loved walking on the sand spit at low tide, observing the sea creatures, birds and shells.

I offered to make some toast when he returned. We’d been doing this the old fashioned way, using the grill part of the oven: you know…it involves actually having to turn the bread over to brown the other side! Halfway through, however there was a small whoomph-like explosion which kept repeating after more attempts to light it. Paul concluded later that it was broken and a bit too risky to fix. We improvised and used an oven shelf atop the flames on the gas rings. Never mind, we said, at Tahsis we could bring the toaster back into use using the shore power. There was no wind so we motored all the way, passing tiny communities nestling at the bottom of steep-sided mountains.

Just before two we could see Westview Marina in the distance and I thought then that it didn’t seem as big as I had expected. Paul called ahead to check they had room for us and they provided directions for the fuel dock. We had to look for a green building with a red roof, which to someone who is red/green colour blind isn’t a whole lot of use. Robert came to greet us as we were filling up to tell us we’d be berthing just behind them on the pontoon. It was only a short distance away. Robert took our lines and we tied up. Now for the chance to catch up on internet stuff, I thought, expecting to see the Rogers telephone signal displayed on my phone. It wasn’t there – in fact no provider was displayed, and for WiFi it seemed we’d have to go to the café, while connecting to shore power would prove too expensive just for the the luxury of toasting bread. Things didn’t improve much after that…

We arranged to go with Robert and Vanessa in the marina’s courtesy car to the supermarket at 4 30. Paul went on ahead to find the rubbish bins while I went to the restaurant to check out their menu for dinner later.  Stepping out into the bright sunlight, I spotted Paul on the bridge leading to the car park and strode out to catch up. I didn’t notice the gap between the restaurant building and the pontoon and walked on assuming I was on solid ground. I must have stumbled through the gap with my right foot, tried to regain my balance and only succeeded in tumbling back so that my right side hit the restaurant wall and then all of me sank into the water. As often reported in such accidents, it seemed to happen in slow motion but was probably very fast to the onlookers, including Paul, who rushed to grab my hands and pull me up as soon as I resurfaced from the narrow gap. I still had my bag on my shoulder and could taste salt water in my mouth. My first thoughts were about what might be in the water and did I swallow any before wondering if my phone was in the bag. Once I was back on terra firma and had assured the small gathering of people that I was ok, Paul checked my bag to confirm my phone was indeed inside it. Restaurant staff appeared with two towels to wrap round me and Paul led me away from the scene of my mishap back to the boat. All I wanted to do was wash the water off me and rinse my mouth out, remembering with horror that a fish-gutting table had been fairly near the spot where I fell in. I was aware of a vague pain in my left leg which intensified as the evening went on but it felt good to be clean again. My phone was put into what I termed the ‘intensive care bag’ (pictured below) which someone had given Paul as a gift due to his propensity for dropping tech equipment in the water. I was surprised that it had come on at all, but time would tell if any permanent damage had occurred. (Update – Paul refused to give up on it and finally managed to fix it completely on September 5^th.)

A little later than planned, we met Robert and Vanessa in the car park and piled into the 4×4 car for the short drive to the centre of Tahsis. Despite my little accident I was looking forward to stocking up on provisions and maybe finding a bar to have a much needed drink. When we got there we were all disappointed to see that the ‘supermarket’ was little more than a store with the usual hiked up prices and limited stock. We picked up some basics anyway and decided to go back to the marina’s ‘Island Attitude Coffee Café’ for a drink and something to eat once the shopping had been put away. My leg was hurting pretty badly by then but I guessed it was just bruised or strained from the bashing it had taken. We all enjoyed the food and had a great evening chatting about the day’s events and future stops before I limped back to the boat. Paul managed to get us a bit of Wi-Fi so I was finally able to make contact with family and friends.

Next morning, waking at 4 45 I felt nauseous and immediately wondered if it was due to anything I had inadvertently ingested from the sea water but Paul laughed away my concerns about parasites and worms. He did tell Robert and Vanessa we wouldn’t be leaving until I felt a bit better though and recommended they go on ahead. By midday, still limping a bit but not as queasy, we negotiated the boat out of a fairly tight spot and motored away from Tahsis, en route to Ewin Inlet.

It was a cool and cloudy day and Paul said it was cold in the cockpit. I stayed below still fighting off occasional waves of nausea. Robert called on the radio to let us know there was a black bear on our port side. I came up to look and could see it so clearly I was even able to make out the wind blowing its thick fur. They came over in the dinghy once we were all anchored and we sat in the cabin drinking and chatting late into the evening as it rained heavily outside.

We spent all of Wednesday 21^st August at Ewin Inlet in order to sit out a spell of rough weather. Looking through the binoculars early in the afternoon, we spotted that the Beneteau anchored near to us had two cats on board, playing on top of the boat’s canopy. During his kayak trip, Paul had a chat with the co captains, Carla and Kevin and returned to tell me they had invited us, along with Rob and Vanessa for drinks later that afternoon. We hitched a ride with them for the short dinghy trip over and spent a pleasant evening on board their boat Gargoyle getting to know Carla and Kevin and their delightful Devon Rex cats, Sam and Dean. I wished I had taken my other phone across to get pictures of the cats, but I’m even more wary of damaging devices now. They had such striking eyes, and were very entertaining with their playful antics. They make great boat cats I’m told ;-)…

Four boats in the Ewin Inlet anchorage planned to journey to Hot Springs Cove the following morning. One of these had arrived late the previous afternoon. The guy on board told Paul he’d been having engine trouble and had had to return to the inlet to work on the problem. Paul spoke to him before we left to check he had got it sorted and to let him know we were all leaving shortly in case he needed help. It turned out he would be heading our way too, later in the day and it seemed likely we would all meet up there at some point. It was a beautiful sunny morning but we’d heard it was quite rough further out in the Pacific. Gargoyle left first and Kevin told Paul he would let him know if conditions were rough out there. For Good were next, and we weighed anchor just after 10.

We estimated it would be a 6 or 7 hour trip and Paul was keen to get sailing so the mainsail was hoisted as soon as we had cleared the inlet. As the day went on, nice as it was to be without the noise of the engine, the waves were high enough to be causing a ‘pitching and tossing’ motion and through radio chats with Robert, it became clear they weren’t having a very good time of it on For Good. Their engine had failed and it was too choppy for them to set their sails in the strong ocean swell. Noticing they were falling further behind, we turned around to check they were ok. It was decided the best course of action would be to abandon plans for Hot Springs Cove and make for the closer destination of Hesquiat Bay. At 6pm both we and For Good anchored there while under sail. That was a first for me and I hadn’t heard Paul tell me we’d be doing it so it caught me on the hop a little. It had been a long day for all of us and it felt good to be secured for the night. We agreed to see what conditions were like before making a decision about where and when to move on.

Friday 23^rd August dawned with uncertainty about what to do. There was only a small window of opportunity weather-wise in which to leave for Hot Springs Cove even though it’s only a short distance away. Robert was still working on the engine problem so we thought it best to stay where we were for another day. We watched a black bear from the cockpit for a while but it was turning out to be a grey, chilly day. Paul took the dinghy out to explore the possibility of an alternative anchorage and I took the opportunity to make some bread as we were running low. Last time I had made bread it hadn’t turned out terribly well but we suspected it had something to do with the yeast not being fresh. This time, both loaves came out really well. We planned to give one to Robert and Vanessa that evening but they decided on an early night in preparation for the next day’s journey. We had a film night instead!  Paul discovered he had downloaded Gandhi as well as a few other films we’d forgotten about. I only lasted an hour before falling asleep, and it’s a three hour film so it looks like we’ll have to watch in in ‘episodes’.

The weather didn’t look too promising the next day; chilly, foggy and wet. Robert called at 8 30 to say they were setting off for Hot Springs Cove and would see us there. We set off at 9 and the weather had improved by 10 with rays of sunlight making the waves sparkle and it got steadily sunnier and warmer from then on. Paul pointed out that we were now leaving the wilderness behind and were heading towards more built-up and populated areas. Hot Springs Cove, however, didn’t appear to be crowded despite its description as a popular tourist destination. We did see tour boats, float planes and a few other anchored yachts, but there was plenty of room for us in its picturesque cove. We anchored near to the shore on the First Nation village side. On the other side we could see the camp site and the entrance to the park with a boardwalk leading to the hot springs.

Although it was midday, we decided to wait until late afternoon to do the 1.25 mile long walk to the springs, following the advice in Waggoners that this would avoid the summer day tripper crowds. We were glad we did when Robert and Vanessa returned from their earlier trip and said it was hard to move freely at the springs for all the people gathered there. We set off at 5 30 when the temperature was pleasantly warm after the heat of the day and the light was beautiful from the sinking sun.

The boardwalk begins shortly after entering the forest. Waggoners provides the history of this useful and artistic path. Before its construction, the route to the springs was a muddy, difficult trek or accessible only by boat, so locals and visiting boaters began contributing individual planks to create a boardwalk, originally from sections of logs on-site. Inscribed on these were the names of boats along with dates and messages. In time the original pathway had to be replaced with brand new 2×6 wooden planks but the tradition of carving words remained. BC Parks allowed people to pre carve planks and leave them with park rangers for later installation and then sold bare planks for the same purpose.  They make an impressive sight and it’s impossible to ignore the names and messages as you walk along. The boardwalk program is no longer in operation, however due to good old ubiquitous health and safety regulations.   

When not scrutinising the planks, the rainforest around us provided its own attractions. The trees were spectacular, as you’d expect in Canada. Their roots were the stuff of fairy tales, spreading out far from the base of the huge trunks to form intriguing shapes and hollows. The branches at the lower part of the trunk were as big as some of the smaller trees, and they too formed irregular and bendy shapes. In the early evening light it was truly a magical setting, especially with the heavy covering of leaves only letting chinks of light through above us – and all the better for having it mostly to ourselves. Pics below.

We knew we were near the springs when the smell of sulphur began to permeate the air and wisps of steam were visible a little way ahead. A few more people were around now, beginning to make their return trip along the boardwalk back to the camp site or hurrying to make the departure of the last tourist boat. We stopped to read a sign near the springs that explained they originate from a fault deep down in the plates, which made Paul think immediately of earthquakes.

Undeterred by the prospect of earthquakes, however, he wasted no time in getting changed and stepping gingerly down into the hot, sulphurous steamy water. The pool itself is quite small, located amid a bed of jagged rocks, but at intervals waterfalls of hot water cascade down from the upper rocks to create a natural shower. Apparently people used to bathe nude in there and wash themselves with soap and shampoo but all this is now banned and swimming attire is required. Watching him sit there enjoying the force of the hot water on his head, back and shoulders so that it felt like a massage, I wished I’d mustered the courage to join him. Still, it was pleasant enough to sit in the evening sunlight and watch pretty blue birds with distinctive black mohican crests flying around, which I’ve since found out are called Stellar’s Jay. Try as I might though I could not get a good picture of them. Instead, here are some of Paul enjoying the springs.

There was no need for an early departure the following day. We hadn’t settled on anywhere to definitely head for next so popped over to For Good to discuss destinations. Bacchante Bay was the place we decided on, and little did I know it would prove to be one of the most stunningly beautiful location I had seen so far. The three hour passage began at midday, and the weather remained clear, bright and sunny. By 1 o’clock Paul had all three sails up and we sailed peacefully through beautiful steep forested hills, where the trees displayed every shade of green you could imagine. Even though we made slow progress when the wind dropped, it hardly mattered when we could drink in those exhilarating views. Added to this was the exciting prospect that at any moment we might spot a bear.

For Good was sitting at anchor when we arrived at 3 30. Their dinghy was missing from behind the boat and we spotted it on the log-strewn beach opposite. Behind the beach was a grassy meadow, leading into lush forest – unmistakeable bear territory: Robert had clearly wasted little time in going ashore to explore the area. Looking around, once we’d secured the anchor it was easy to see why. In this secluded haven we were surrounded by thickly forested cliffs, the highest we’d seen yet. It was extremely quiet and still, with only the odd ‘plop’ of fish jumping to break the silence. A snow-capped mountain in the distance completed the breathtaking scenes. I was content to sit and stare, but for a closer view of the rocky inlets at the bottom of the cliffs, Paul got in the kayak and spent ages paddling round the shores.

The four of us finished the day sitting in our cabin drinking and chatting and swapping the results of our homemade (or boatmade) baking sessions. Vanessa brought some delicious cookies and I gave them a loaf of another successful batch of freshly-baked bread.

Monday 26^th August, a bank holiday in the UK, began for us with the delightful sight of a black bear ambling along the beach in the early morning sunlight. In such an enchanting location, with sights like that I think all of us were tempted to stay longer. We were all in need of replenishing various items for our store cupboards though so we stuck to our plan of leaving at 9 30 for Tofino so that we could hit the shops. Not long after departing, Paul took us on a short cut around an island that turned out to have some alarming shallow patches and rocks that looked a bit too close for comfort (‘we will be fine’, he said). It was worth it though because it turned out to be very pretty. Luckily we saw it before the fog descended around midday. I positioned myself at the bow to keep a lookout for buoys and boats.

We knew it would be shallow water on the approach to Tofino so we all stuck rigidly to the route mapped out on the chart. Buoys near the marina were emblazoned with the word ‘shallow’ on a bright pink surface – perhaps for those who hadn’t researched the area. For Good had called ahead and booked us a place in the marina where would be rafting together on a pontoon fairly close to that pink buoy. We would go in first to tie up so that we’d be on hand to assist Robert and Vanessa with their first rafting. Despite the three of us (not Paul, naturally) being anxious about the decreasing depth the nearer we got to the pontoon, we rafted the boats together with no hassles.  After checking in, we met at a bar in Tofino’s main street for some well-earned refreshment. The town wasn’t what I had expected at all. We’d heard it was a tourist town, prone to crowds and noise. Waggoners warn of experiencing culture shock from its commerce, loud engines, traffic and tourists. Maybe I was imagining somewhere like our busy UK seaside resorts, some of which can be garish, noisy and shabby – especially in high season. Tofino is none of these – it’s elegant, charming and picturesque, surrounded as it is by wild natural scenery and beaches; while its lakes, inlets and the ocean make it popular with surfers, kayakers and sea-life enthusiasts.  Tasteful gift shops, shops selling sporting essentials and inviting cafes and bars line the main street along with art galleries and museums. It was busy and vibrant, yet even after the tranquillity we’d come from it was pleasant and definitely not loud and rowdy as I’d been dreading. I felt sure I was going to enjoy our few days in Tofino.

We spent three days on the pontoon making the most of marina facilities, going for walks, replenishing provisions and trying out the restaurants. On the 29^th we decided to move out into the anchoring area at Duffin Passage until conditions were favourable enough to move further along the coast. The current was very strong and it took us two attempts to set the anchor. The water all around us was choppy but it was just about cope-able, and even though noisy float planes regularly took off and flew closely overhead, I was content to stay put rather than go out in that current again. Robert and Vanessa bravely chose to weigh anchor and seek a more calm location to ensure a peaceful night.

For Good ended up in a place called God’s Pocket and we met them there a couple of days later. The current was not as strong as when we anchored but we had a bit of a shock not long after we’d left the anchorage when a fisherman coming from the opposite direction warned us that there was a submerged rock to watch out for. Paul quickly located it on the chart and said we would have missed it anyway. The water was shallow and we were surrounded by whirlpools and eddies which made it impossible for the autohelm to steer so Paul had to take the helm while I kept an eye on the depth and looked out for crab pots for the hour long journey. The current got so strong at one point, that we were effectively not moving forward and Paul had to increase the revs to push us on. It was a relief to be in God’s Pocket (that’s a phrase I never though I would say) and spot For Good sitting on calm, still water in a pretty location. We spent an enjoyable last evening of August on their boat chatting for hours, since sadly they won’t be joining us on our trip down the west coast and we’d be heading off in different directions the next day. We will be keeping in touch, though and hopefully will meet up on future journeys. This turned out to be a lot sooner than we expected…          

Kathy