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The city of Oceanside in San Diego County is located close to one of the largest Marine Corps Bases in the United States according to my guide book. On our way to its marina late on the afternoon of 28^th October we saw nothing of this but we did see and hear our old friends the sea lions – a familiar and welcome sight (to me anyway).

They have been allocated their own floating dock on which to ‘beach’ close to the marina berths. The day after we arrived, most of them had abandoned this little square dock and decamped to the floating platform at the end of our pontoon. I had heard them barking in the night and thought they sounded a lot closer than they should have from their dock. Below is the reason why.

Oceanside is a nice enough city, although not as pretty and compact as Redondo. It was a bit of a hike into town to get to the nearest shops and the beach and pier was an hour away on foot. We did a fair bit of walking in Oceanside for the short time we were there. Returning early on the evening before we left, Paul had another confrontation with stubborn sea lions. Two of them had laid themselves full length across the pontoon, blocking our path to the boat. Stamping his feet and clapping his hands merely caused them to stare disdainfully at him without moving an inch. Every time we made a move to walk towards them, though the bigger of the two raised its head and bared its teeth, emitting a warning growl for good measure. I couldn’t help laughing. Eventually we had to resort to the water hose treatment – much to their disgust – before we could get past. Images of Oceanside below.

To add insult to injury, they were more vocal than usual during the night, barking and splashing very close to our hull, yet from the moment we got up to prepare to depart from our berth, they went quiet. I think they are more intelligent than we’ve given them credit for! I still love them though. We were on our way by 9am bound for San Diego with the Santa Ana wind blowing sufficiently to allow us to put the sails up and have a bit of peace from the sound of the engine for an hour or so. As we motored towards our berth in San Diego just before 5pm we could see people on the pontoon ready to take our lines. Two of them were Brenda and Clay who we had met in Monterey. It’s always nice to see familiar faces when arriving in a new port.

During a chat with the Uber driver who took us to the DHL collection office the morning after we arrived, Paul asked him if he could recommend some places we should visit in the city. One of the areas he mentioned was one that I had read about and liked the sound of, so after collecting his parcel we headed to San Diego’s Gas Lamp Quarter.  Our guide book describes it as the epicentre of urban ultra-cool: quaint and romantic by day and rocking by night. We had no wish to go clubbing in its ‘hip’ clubs or trendy bars, so opted for the quaint daytime vibe instead. The district used to be San Diego’s main thoroughfare but descended into sleaziness in the late 1800s when legitimate businesses moved away from the wharves and warehouses. The gas lamps at that time illuminated streets populated with seedy saloons, brothels, opium dens and gambling halls (legend has it that Wyatt Earp operated at least three of them). The area only just escaped the wrecking ball in the 1960s but local preservationists were keen to protect the historic district and The Gas Lamp Quarter Association, formed in 1974, ensured that its oldest buildings remained untouched. Still, it was hard to imagine how it was in the 1800s when we strolled around it. The red-brick streets are dotted with trendy bars, and pavement dining is set up outside the modern bistros, while several fronts of historic buildings have recently been decorated with old fashioned facades. The street lights have been tastefully recreated in 19^th-century style though, it was just a shame we didn’t get to see them in the dark.  

As it was Halloween there was no shortage of people dressed up, parading the streets in horror costumes sporting painted faces and brightly–coloured fright wigs. Passing one restaurant we were startled when a man bounded out in front of us and asked if we were ‘in need of a hug’! I assumed him to be one of the staff but he could just as easily have been another passer-by because the combination of Halloween and the district’s reputation for attracting eccentrics ensured that there was plenty of colourful characters around. We politely declined his kind offer – he wasn’t to know he couldn’t have picked two people less likely to eagerly accept an embrace from a complete stranger.

From there we walked to the waterfront, another ‘must see’ according to our Uber driver. The maritime museum located there incorporates three historic ships and would have taken hours to do it justice. We contented ourselves with gawping at the huge aircraft carrier, (USS Midway Museum) on the Navy Pier in San Diego Bay.  I had never seen a war ship before and marvelled at the fact that such a huge vessel – which frankly looked a bit higgledy piggledy with parts and platforms jutting out at angles all over its top decks – could move at all let alone with several aircraft on top of it. Apparently it was the largest ship in the world when it was built in 1945 and was too big to fit through the Panama Canal. We resolved to visit it before leaving San Diego. The other thing that caught our eye was the 25-foot ‘Unconditional Surrender’ statue on the promenade next to the warship.  This iconic image of a sailor embracing a nurse on VJ Day in 1945 was captured by a photographer during the celebrations and as we would say today ‘went viral’ when it was published. The sculpture seems to be very popular with tourists who flock to replicate the image. I was interested to read that the sailor who claimed to be the one in the photo, died in 2014 aged 86 and was purported to have spent the last years of his life charging women $10 to photograph themselves kissing him on the cheek!

We spent a couple of days anchored in the charge-free area of the marina a few 100 yards from the pontoons to make room for the boats booked on the annual Baja Haha Rally, so it wasn’t until Sunday 3^rd November that a space became free and we moved back to the pontoons for a four day stay. We were now able to make use of the bikes again. San Diego is well set up for cyclists with designated lanes allocated on its main roads and it’s not too hilly a city. It makes shopping for provisions easier and we get to see more of the area.

On Monday we, along with others from the marina, gathered on the green expanse overlooking the bay to watch the start of the Baja Haha Rally. About 200 yachts were positioned on the water waiting for the starting gun that signalled the beginning of their journey to Mexico. The ceremony and humorous interactions coming from the participants and the organisers on VHF reminded me of the start of our adventure on the Atlantic Rally crossing back in 2006.

San Diego’s Old Town was our next sight to see. Another value for money Uber took us to The State Historic Park, the site of San Diego’s original settlement (America’s first on the West Coast), known as The Birthplace of California. Anything focusing on 19^th century life is of interest to me and this attraction recreates the city’s beginnings and has historic dwellings, reconstructed and original buildings, museums, and a Mexican-style market place with old style shops and restaurants. Paul did some Christmas shopping of all things in some of the shops there. It was fascinating to see the reconstruction of early settlers’ homes and to look at a genuine Wells Fargo stagecoach. There was even a haunted house! Whaley House is southern California’s oldest two-storey brick building (1856) and people have apparently reported seeing members of the original family still ‘living’ there along with a boat thief who was hanged on the site before the house was built. Paul said it was all nonsense and it was too late to go in there anyway. Shame – I would have enjoyed seeing a genuine 19^th century ghost. Pics below of the day.

California operates daylight saving time too, but the clocks went back a week later than in the UK. The period between Halloween and Bonfire Night in the UK always heralds the start of the Christmas build up for me. The shops in San Diego had been full of Halloween cards and decorations and now cards for Thanksgiving on November 28th lined the shelves, with a small area given over for Christmas stuff. The sunny warm days meant that it didn’t even feel like autumn to me, let alone a need to begin preparing for Yuletide festivities. This didn’t stop Paul heading off to the Post Office on November 6^th to post the Christmas presents he had bought and wrapped for people back home. He wanted to make sure they went from the US and we were still uncertain about our departure date for Mexico. We needed to leave our berth on the 7^th but still hadn’t secured a place in Ensenada. With only one free day left, it was time to visit the USS Midway, so after the parcels had been sent off we got on the bikes and cycled all the way to the waterfront – a distance of about five miles. This was mostly on flat roads thankfully, and we stopped a few times to look at things so it wasn’t too arduous despite the warm day.

The warship itself was expensive but it was undeniably good value for the admission fee. Everything you could possibly want to know about life on board the gargantuan vessel and the fine details of aircraft carriers was covered. Audio guides narrated by Midway sailors were provided and it was possible to sit inside fighter planes and play with the controls. Kids and adults of all ages were lapping it all up on the day we were there. I must admit it was quite thrilling to sit in the cockpit of one of the actual World War 2 fighter jets, and to sit inside a helicopter. Some of the staff were men who had served on the ship and they welcomed the chance to answer questions and chat with visitors about their time in service or on statistics and engineering queries. We read about the character (Maverick) that Tom Cruise played in the film Top Gun – interestingly there are special Top Gun Movie Nights when the ship hosts a party for people who wish to watch the film under the stars. Home to 225,000 sailors, The Midway was finished just a week too late to serve in World War 2 but it was used in the Vietnam conflict and during The Gulf War where it was the flagship of Persian Gulf air operations in Operation Desert Storm.  

We were amused by the robotic character placed behind a desk who acted out a scenario to inform visitors about the stresses involved in the busy day to day running of life on board. His narration could only ever come across as corny.  A gift shop and a café has taken up part of the enormous main entrance deck – the goods on sale were very highly priced but I guess if anyone wants a bomber jacket like the one Tom Cruise wore, it’s worth every cent to buy it on the Midway and in the city where it was filmed.

It was dark by the time we emerged from the bowels of the ship so it was a ride home in the dark and as always when the sun sets it was a cold evening. The effort of cycling this time warmed us up rather than made us sweat. When we got back to the boat it was time to plan our departure the following morning for Ensenada. We would be in the Mexican part of the Pacific Ocean sometime on the 7^th November. Another new country for me.

Kathy  

So the song by Albert Hammond goes. Well it hasn’t – rained that is. I actually can’t remember the last time it rained. The song does go on to say that it pours; ‘man it pours’. However, since we will be leaving this part of America in a few days’ time I think it’s safe to assume we’ll see no rain. The days have been delightfully clear, bright and sunny, with chilly mornings and evenings but bearably hot during the day. I think I’ve discovered my ideal climate here. We can now congratulate ourselves on completing a voyage down the whole of the west coast of America. Mexico beckons shortly, but we made the most of our Southern Californian sojourn. It began with a little bit of drama during the night of October 16th.  We’d left Morro Bay that morning with an early fog that cleared after a couple of hours. No engine, the sails were up and moving us along at a good 5 knots of speed so it began peaceful and economical, if a little bit rolly. We’d bought ready-made burritos for dinner in case conditions were bumpy. I’d never had one before, not being a fan of Mexican food and the burrito didn’t really convert me. Furthermore, it burned the roof of Paul’s mouth after being in the oven for an hour as directed. It made me laugh when he remarked that nothing vegan should need that long to cook. Maybe they’ll be better in Mexico…

The autohelm had been repeatedly steering us off course and had clearly developed a fault, but the wind vane had been doing a great job all afternoon. The wind began to drop while I was on the first night watch and without the wind it struggled to keep the course. Paul’s watch, therefore, had to begin earlier than it should because I had to call him to sort it out. I was dubious about going below to sleep considering that the autohelm was having a problem steering. I figured we might need to take turns hand steering on shorter watches for the duration of the trip. Paul said we’d see how things went and without expecting to, I did fall asleep. It was a fitful sleep – the combination of the bouncy motion and the noise of the engine filtered through my dreams so that I felt I was being thrown around in a tumble drier. I woke to hear the wind blowing hard and rattling the sails and sheets around up above but I couldn’t see or hear Paul. I lay there trying not to panic and was just about to go up when he appeared in the cockpit, calling my name and telling me he needed me on deck. I knew it must be urgent but had no idea what was happening. The boat was listing to starboard at a sharp angle so I struggled to keep my balance getting my outdoor gear on. Paul was battling with the headsail sheets and I could feel that we were speeding along too fast. I couldn’t stop myself asking if we were in danger which didn’t go down too well, but I was half asleep and he did look anxious. I asked what I needed to do and received the answer that I could either sort out the furling line on the bow or take the helm to steer us away from an oil rig! I stepped into the cockpit, and a wave hit me side on as I stood to look ahead (that woke me up). I was confronted with the surreal sight of a huge and extremely brightly-lit oil rig seemingly a few feet away from us. It was like something from a science fiction film – think giant robot – and I had to take the wheel while struggling not to fall onto the starboard guard rails which were almost in the water from the angle we were at. The noise of the whistling wind and the flapping sails was frightening but not as scary as the oil rig getting ever closer. While Paul was on the bow I lost sight of him and had to keep screaming out for him to let me know he was still there. After what seemed like ages he returned and managed to get reefs in the main sail while I steered but I soon became disorientated by the oil rig’s bright lights and the sharp listing and before I could correct it the course had gone awry which culminated in the boom shooting over to the other side – a crash jibe!  This minor disaster necessitated more steering and instructions shouted above the noise of the wind before things finally settled down. We still had the faulty autohelm to deal with, but Paul effected a temporary repair and the rest of the journey passed relatively smoothly. There were no other vessels around and no more oil rigs. The gale abated and I was never as pleased to see the sun rise that morning 😉

Despite the alarming events of the night, I agreed to steer us across the choppy bar at the entrance to Oxnard Marina, but it was such a small one we were across it and in calm waters before I even had a chance to worry. The day was sunny, clear and calm and the marina, complete with resident sea lions was a welcome sight: it was hard to believe we’d experienced such rough conditions the previous night. It’s a huge marina so the passage to our berth took us along a long stretch of water with pontoons on either side of us. I was amused to see a group of sea lions basking on the stern platform of a posh super yacht (the ‘For Sale’ sign it sported didn’t specify that it came complete with sea lions).   

Once berthed, we left further exploration until we’d caught up on sleep. There was also a fair bit of sorting out and a few faulty things to fix, so apart from our customary provisioning trip it wasn’t until Saturday 19^th October that we set out on a full day of sightseeing. The sight I particularly wanted to see was Spahn Ranch in Chatsworth, about an hour’s drive from Oxnard. No longer a ranch (it burned down in the 1970) it used to be a movie set where Westerns such as Bonanza were filmed in the 50s and 60s. The site is notorious for being where the Manson family lived for two years from 1967-69. Given this, it’s hardly surprising that it isn’t advertised or indeed signposted. It took a combination of research and (my) existing knowledge to locate it on a map. Paul had hired a car for a few days so our trip began once the location had been programmed in to the satnav. We drove off later that morning with the air conditioning on, sun visors down and the car radio tuned in to…I would have loved to say a station playing suitable music for a road trip in the LA vicinity but unfortunately the ones we found didn’t really meet that description – too many irritating adverts. 

Despite our careful planning, it proved very difficult to find Spahn Ranch, even with the aid of other crime boffins online who had visited the spot and uploaded pictures and videos to YouTube. Looking at the landscape surrounding us, it was easy to see why it was ideal for Western productions. Rolling hills and valleys in a remote spot with creeks, caves rugged terrain and lush wooded areas – it also provided the ideal out of the way place for Manson’s hippie commune. The almost blind owner was unaware of their more malign intentions and activities. Eventually we parked the car in the car park of a church as near as we could possibly be sure that the ranch had been situated, and followed a path through the woods across the road. Paul studied pictures and videos on his phone of a group’s previous visit and we actually matched some of the images with those we were seeing. We found foundation stones and other clues that we were in the right area and spent an hour exploring and taking pictures, seeing no one else the entire time we were there. It felt a bit eerie to be in such an empty and abandoned spot which had once been full of action with people and horses and old wooden buildings. Now it is more like a woodland trail in the countryside but not unpleasant for that. As we left the site and emerged onto the road a man in a car parked there stopped us and asked if we knew the way to Spahn Ranch as he and his daughter were having trouble finding it. His daughter, who looked about 15 was the one who was keen to find it and listened intently as I described what we’d seen. It seems the fascination with Manson is ongoing.

The next day’s road trip was to a place associated with the more positive aspects of the hippie era. Venice Beach is where Jim Morrison of The Doors used to hang out, along with several other notable musicians, poets and performers. It had been the centre for The Beat generation from the 50s and has gained a reputation as a place for the creative and artistic, which naturally includes delightful eccentrics. I had actually been there in 1983 but at that time, to my shame, I was unaware of its cultural relevance to so many of the things that I came to admire and revere later in life. To get there we drove some of the way along the Pacific Coast Highway which overlooks the Pacific Ocean from great heights with stunning views. We also went through the scenic beauty of Malibu with its affluent neighbourhoods, magnificent houses and picturesque boulevards, a mere stone’s throw away from golden beaches. Again, it was a perfect day weather-wise to see all these things; sunny, clear, and warm.

We headed straight for the famous boardwalk, arriving there around 2pm when it was thronging with people. I found it captivating from the outset. There was so much going on and so much to look at it was hard to know what to do first. Stalls, shacks and shops lined either side of the boardwalk – the beach side was interspersed with street artists and performers and vendors selling handmade crafts and jewellery, while the park hosted skaters, dancers and skateboarders. The air was filled with the aromas of traditional culinary beach fare along with a wide variety of fast food to satisfy every taste. There was an almost celebratory atmosphere all along the two mile boardwalk and in the park. Upbeat music drew us to an area where some roller skaters were performing so we sat on the grass and watched them for an hour but I could easily have stayed there all the rest of the day. The music was great and there were some spectacular dance moves from some of the characters. Paul took some video footage of them which he edited for a great piece that captures just how entertaining it was (link is included in his blog).

Venice has other delights to marvel at which I had missed on my last visit. We walked to the inland part of town and found ourselves in the canal district. Pretty little bridges spanned the waterways and almost all of the elegant houses in the streets alongside the water were tastefully decorated for Halloween. We took lots of pictures as we meandered through this Venice – named for the more famous Italian city but which has totally different charms to admire. We stayed long enough to enjoy the sunset, which as can be seen below was pretty amazing.  

Ventura is only a short drive from Oxnard so while we had the car I couldn’t resist suggesting we go for a drive on ‘Ventura Highway’. This is the title of a song I used to play a lot in the 70s by the band America, who also had a hit with ‘Horse with No Name’. The beach at Ventura is a much more sedate and understated affair than Venice. Fewer people and miles of quiet, largely empty sandy beaches.  We saw a few strollers and some children enjoying the late afternoon sun.  

From Oxnard we motored to Redondo. The journey took most of the day (23^rd October). There was no chance of sailing  on this windless day and we hadn’t gone very far before a police boat motored up to us to advise us to change course as we were heading for a region used as a firing range. We didn’t need telling twice! We were joined by dolphins leaping either side of the bow for part of the journey which Paul managed to capture on film (again, on his blog). Around 5pm we could see the breakwater where the mooring buoys were located and once again the unmistakeable sound of sea lions honking reached our ears and made me smile. The mooring buoy we grabbed was different to those we usually tied to. These had poles with ropes attached so the pole had to be hooked first in order to tie the ropes to the boat. I steered us to it and Paul made quick work of securing us – close enough to the sea lions’ pontoon to smell their fishy aroma.

As we make our way further south we are nearing the Tropic of Cancer and it’s definitely feeling warmer in general; well the butter is getting too soft to keep out of the fridge anyway. Considering such Mediterranean-like warmth it was a case of another day, another beach on Thursday 24^th. Redondo Beach didn’t get much of a write up in my Lonely Planet guide. It’s described as an ethnically diverse, working class beach town notable for its pier before going on to recommend its two wonderful adjacent ‘sister’ South Bay beaches. We liked Redondo Beach. The dinghy park is near the ‘notable’ pier and the wharf was a typical fisherman’s wharf with fishing boats and people working on them, except that the surrounding boardwalk was lined with cafes and bars that appeared to be aimed at locals as opposed to tourists. The pubs had character – one we passed was full of men who could only be workers and fishermen. Similarly, the beach itself was lined with residential buildings on its promenade with the main hub of bars and restaurants in a spot near the town centre. I guess this is what the guide meant by a ‘working class beach town’ but for us this was a positive factor. We had lunch in one of the town bars overlooking the beach before our usual supermarket trip.

Redondo Pier took on an enchanting aspect once it began to get dark. There are over 50 dining, shopping and entertainment venues on it and the subtle, pretty lighting and vibe emanating from them act like a magnet. We dinghied over to watch the sunset and have an evening walk along it. (Pics below).

Our next stop proved to be something of a disappointment. Santa Catalina is an island approximately 30 miles southwest of California and is only 22 miles long and 8 miles across at its greatest width. It’s a nature reserve and a popular getaway for Los Angeles residents and is purported to have great hikes, cycle routes and wildlife. The journey there had been one of the smoothest and trouble-free yet, despite some concern about the Santa Ana wind hampering our progress. In fact, there was no wind at all so we motored for the six hour passage and picked up a mooring buoy at 2 o’clock on Friday 25^th. No sea lions here. In fact there wasn’t much of anything! Looking at it from our buoy, positioned on the remote west end of the island at Two Harbors, I could see a tiny cluster of buildings in the middle of the isthmus, and parched low hills on either side of it. There were no signs of life on the boats moored around us and we were directly opposite some lorries and trucks in a small industrial quarrying site. Two Harbours is admittedly the ‘second’ centre of population with only a few hundred people, while Avalon, the main town is the more ‘happening’ resort with a larger population. We planned to check that out the following day.

Meanwhile we got in the dinghy for the short distance to the shore and had a look around. With very few cars on the island, it was very quiet ashore. We walked along the path to the centre of the isthmus, passing closed up and empty buildings and the usual signs forbidding you to do lots of things. First, Paul went to check us in at the tiny harbour office and came out visibly shocked at the coast of an overnight stay on the mooring. At $60 it was more than some marinas, and we were told we’d need to ‘check out’ of the buoy area by 9am. Walking around didn’t take long. We looked at a house that had been used for a film starring Joan Crawford in 1932 (pictured below), and read about the bison that inhabit the island. Fourteen of the creatures were brought over for the filming of an American Western in 1924 and had remained there afterwards. Apparently the scenes with the bison never made it into the film and it was deemed too costly to transport them back. There are about 150 on the island now but we didn’t see any. We didn’t see any other animals either. A sign told us there are island foxes, Californian ground squirrels (ah, so that’s what the squirrels are here), and four types of mice. We might also spot a Southern Pacific Rattlesnake; I’m pleased to say we didn’t see that! Apart from some resort facilities, a few late-in-the-season holidaymakers and a small shop, we didn’t see much else and I felt the place lacked atmosphere. We went back to the boat, hoping that Avalon would be better.   

The next day was spent a few feet away from the mooring buoys in the free anchorage area. Paul explored the shorelines in the kayak while I had a relaxing day on board. The VHF kept broadcasting alarming ‘pan pan’ updates about people getting into trouble at sea. There were reports of boats drifting uncontrollable towards rocks, life jackets seen floating in the water and yachts that had gone aground and been abandoned. I found myself captivated by the updates and thankful that no one died. Part of those dramas had been down to the infamous Santa Ana wind, which Paul had been keeping up to date with on the weather forecasts. His feeling was that it would be fine for us to move around the corner to Avalon the following day since it was only a short distance and we could always return to the anchorage if conditions got rough.

On Sunday 27^th that was exactly what we did. We woke to a chilly and blustery morning and heard warnings for small craft thinking of journeying in the area. The advice was not to go anywhere. Paul said it would be fine as we would be within the shelter of the island for the short distance so we weighed anchor late in the morning and motored out onto waves heavy with swell and 18 knots of wind. I couldn’t help thinking of the yachts who had got into difficulties the previous day. Not long after we’d set off Paul said we would have to go back. The coastguard had broadcast a report stressing the dangers for vessels heading to Avalon due to the severity of the Santa Ana wind. Since it was cold, rocky and very windy, with yet more vessels calling in with distress calls to the coastguard I wasn’t sorry to return to the sanctuary of the anchorage. Unfortunately this meant we had missed our chance to see Avalon because we had a berth booked at a marina at Oceanside near San Diego (Santa Ana wind allowing).     

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.