The Taco Traveler

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It's Friday morning, October 26, 2007, and what a couple days it's been. I'm sitting on Chemistry in the South Beach Marina at the Embarcadero in San Francisco after having a shower and breakfast, and giving Chemistry a good bath, too. I apologize for not posting last night when I got in here safely, but things couldn't be better.

As I posted in a previous log, I left Eureka about 1pm on Wednesday, my friends Greg and Kevin on Passing Wind II to follow soon behind me after fueling and giving their rebuilt engine a good test spin. Since they started a couple hours behind and were in a slower boat I didn't expect to see them again until San Francisco. I tried radioing them a couple times on the VHF Wednesday afternoon and night, with no response, so I assumed I was just way too far ahead. I was shattered to hear on Thursday morning, as I was approaching Bodega Bay, a Pan-Pan call from the Humboldt Bay Coast Guard announcing that they were receiving an EPIRB signal from Passing Wind II located about 50 miles southwest of Cape Mendocino (almost to the latitude of Fort Bragg, which I'd passed Wednesday night about 11pm). As I can't help but create backstory when I only have a piece of information, I had to assume that since there was no radio distress call, and just the EPRIB was activated (which could happen automatically depending on the model if there was a catastrophic event), that they had been run down by a freighter - the worst of all possibilities, and something we'd been joking about only hours earlier.

So there I am around the latitude of Bodega Bay, feeling euphoric about my experience, feeling pride in my boat and the immense satisfaction when the sun came up yesterday morning and I'd survived the night of big winds and fairly big seas, and never felt out of control of any situation. And then I hear this Pan-Pan call and my heart is broken. I was already 90 miles away from their location, and it would have been a ridiculous 5 knot upwind bash (at least 18 hours) to get to that position, so all I could do was radio the Coast Guard and offer them any information I had: who was aboard, that they had a life raft with hydro-static release mounted on the cabintop, that they'd had engine trouble and had rebuilt the engine over the past few days in Eureka.... And wait.

Before hearing that news I'd been pretty tired, but decided that rather than cross the bar at Bodega Bay and transit the narrow channel, I'd rather get down to Drake's Bay and anchor out, and then head into San Francisco this morning. So I kept going, and listening to the continuous Pan-Pan reports every 30 minutes about Passing Wind II's EPIRB activation (as well as a couple others - it was a bad night to be in a small or less-than-storm-worthy vessel).

I went around Point Reyes yesterday about 1 or 2pm, took a brief peek into the bay that was much much larger than I'd expected, and blowing very hard from the northwest despite the fairly big hills protecting the bay, and decided that San Francisco was doable. By this time I'd had 2 or 3 catnaps of about 15 or 20 minutes each (any time I closed my eyes I set my phone alarm to go off in 30 minutes), so I was wide awake and felt like San Francisco was now a very attainable challenge. I went through Bonita Channel and the Golden Gate came into view, and felt elation for myself and sadness for my friends. And when I finally passed underneath, I said a little prayer for Greg and Kevin (though not a praying person, I believe in the power of positive thought; prayer is just the easiest way to say it, unless of course you follow up that word with a big parenthetical statement explaining why you're using that word - sheesh).

I arrived at the South Beach Marina at the Embarcadero (the marina right next to Pac Bell Park, where the Giants play) about 7pm. Pulled into the slip, hopped off and tied off perfectly (solo docking a 43-foot sailboat isn't easy, and always gets my adrenalin pumping), came down into the cabin and relaxed for a few minutes, then immediately started tracking down a number for the Humboldt Bay Coast Guard to try to find out what happened to my friends. Turns out they'd been pulled off the boat by helicopter yesterday afternoon. It was probably around 4 or 5pm, but I don't remember when I last heard the Pan-Pan call. The duty officer I talked to didn't have the full story, but he said basically they got beat up by the weather. So they abandoned Greg's boat 50 miles out, and cancelled their dream of sailing her for a year down south to Mexico and maybe farther, then over to Hawaii, then north to Alaska. I haven't talked to them (Greg's cell phone is probably at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean with his boat, and Kevin doesn't have a cell phone). I wish them the best and maybe I'll still see them again - hopefully their experience wasn't so bad out there that they don't want to give it another try.

Update 10.27.2007
Just got this link from Dick Dato, another friend from Eureka, that recounts the events and the rescue: http://www.times-standard.com//ci_7285727

So what now? I'll be here in this marina for at least 7 days, working on "work" and working on the boat, seeing friends.... But I'm not sure. I'm planning a trip to see the boys probably from Tues Nov 6th to the 12th or 13th, and then there's Thanksgiving in Seattle.... If I stay more than 4 days and don't have time to get to San Diego by November 4th, then I may be here until after Thanksgiving, if I can find the slip space.

TT

I like Eureka - don't get the wrong idea by the title of this entry, but jeez, it's been a while since I was on the water. I could have left yesterday, but there are always a few more things to take care of. Namely, I hadn't yet had good enough weather to install the vinyl with the name Chemistry and the hailing port on the transom, so I did that yesterday and now I'm legal. This morning it took about an hour to get fuel, as there were 3 fishing boats all filling up at Englund’s so I had to wait (good hovering practice). Greg from “Passing Wind” came along to help me because it’s a pretty ugly fuel dock with pilings (not set up for cruisers, really). Then after that my autopilot was freaking out – turns out at some point the sensor arm for the rudder angle indicator came unglued from the rudder arm. Yes, glue. :\ Anyway, my neighbor Kevin came over and diagnosed it right away and fixed it in about 5 minutes with a couple of hose clamps, and I was ready … again.

I motored out of the harbor and across the bar about an hour ago, and fiddled around with the mainsail just making sure I could raise/lower it with no trouble, since there are some big winds forecast for tomorrow. I hope to be sitting in Bodega Bay (either at the marina or at anchor) by noon tomorrow, so I should beat those big winds to port. In any case, they'll be blowing from almost straight behind me, which is a heck of a lot more managable then trying to go into them. Yes, I'm going against my own vow to not "race weather into port" but I can't be a weather weanie this whole trip, and I know that Chemistry can take it.

At the moment I’m motorsailing at about 7 knots (6.9 – 7.5, depending on the swells/wind) so I’m making really good time already. The wind is only 8-10 knots apparent (probably about 13-14 true) so the sail is slatting a bit. Another 5 knots would be nice, but I really want to keep the motor going and make great time. Considering this is my first time single-handing offshore, I don’t really want to be out here to the point of exhaustion (and my insurance won’t let me single-hand more than 24-hours at a time anyway). I see lots of sunshine right on the other side of Cape Mendocino, but after the Cape the wind will be right from behind instead of on my quarter, so I’ll probably have to rig the whisker pole. After Cape Mendocino it’s about 95 miles down to Point Arena, then another 55 to Bodega Bay.

Almost out of range – I’ll post more later.

TT

Outside of this storm that's battering the west coast, there's not a lot going on. Pretty much just working on the boat and waiting for another weather window so I can make my way past the next two stops (Fort Bragg, CA, and Bodega Bay) into San Francisco.
 
The main thing I've discovered since arriving in Eureka last Sunday night is that the "cruising lifestyle" isn't just a dream anymore. Having never been the "neighborly" type when I had a real neighborhood, I didn't know what to expect as far as the "boat neighborhood" thing goes. Suffice to say, I'm a polar opposite on the water. In the suburbs I always felt like I wanted to associate with neighbors, but not necessarily be friends with them; say "hi" on the walk to the mailbox, set up the occasional play date for the kids, keep an eye out for any weirdness when you know they're on vacation. But keep them distant ("good fences make good neighbors"). But when cruising, I find that I love the interaction, the dock-side talk about engines, water systems, weather, which places to anchor, which marinas to visit.... It's a much different sort of neighborhood. Here, everyone is generally living the same life. Everyone is still interesting, of course, but everyone here has in one way or another, to some degree, come to a similar conclusion: that they wanted to see different things and live a different life than they can live on land.

I hosted my first "cruiser's potluck" the other night, and could have stayed up all night with my new friends, plying them with wine and culling out more and more stories and talk. These are amazing and interesting (and downright nice) people who are all heading south towards Mexico, and in some cases beyond. Nowadays, when everyone has a blog and a cell that works internationally, I expect to run into them again down the line.

And this is only my first stop since leaving Port Townsend. So much to come.

TT

It's hard to know what to write about, sometimes, at least to an audience of friends and family reading this thing and experiencing the trip along with me, vicariously. Sometimes I feel like Andy Rooney (or, on a better day, maybe Jerry Seinfeld), stating the completely obvious just because it happens to occur to me: "Did you ever notice how you feel full after you eat a lot of food? What's with that?" Sometimes, though, the things that are blatantly obvious become too familiar and are interesting to call out, like in an old essay/speech I wrote for my little sister's wedding when I noted that the appliance brand Frigidaire, if you've ever thought about it, says, simply "frigid air." Duh. Can you imagine the internal company conflicts when they started to make ovens?

I've been noticing a lot of those details, lately, with all the time I’ve been spending by myself. Those little bits of life that escape us in the everyday, but sometimes need to be acknowledged. Things as simple and beautiful (and yes, clichéd) as the stars, planets and galaxies you see on a clear night at sea. I tried to describe this idea to a friend the other night, as some sort of Zen exercise I read about several years ago where they teach you to feel and taste and live every moment, starting with the very simple act of eating a raisin. One single raisin and you're supposed to eat it for like five minutes.

Anyway, I felt one of those moments hit me today sitting at my table, sipping my coffee and waiting for the first lunch course at a restaurant here in Eureka called Hurricane Kate’s (“Dining with a Twist”). A lady walked in, very distinguished, very nicely dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and grey slacks, very little makeup, nicely done hair. She looked great but didn't look like she took hours preparing herself. In short, she was beautiful, and she seemed to be about seventy years old. I gathered that she ate there almost every day, because the waiter/host said, in a friendly and familiar way, "Where's the old guy?" She smiled a bit, but with a hint of worry, and I couldn't hear exactly but I imagined/lip-read she said something to the effect of: "Oh, he won't be coming today. He's not feeling so well." She's someone I would have loved to have a meal with and talk to. And it wouldn’t be unreasonable to recall that little-sister wedding essay again here, as at the time I was enthralled by a particular song in the Counting Crows’ song “Long December:” All at once you look across a crowded room to see the way that light attaches to a girl. That line was a touch-point in the wedding speech, and comes to mind again now, thinking about this beautiful older lady who still glows. Like all hopeless romantics, I imagine myself – many years from now – with someone like that. Someone who in her seventies will still look amazing and will still go about her day, but will love and worry and never be far from me when I’m not feeling well enough to go with her to lunch.

And on a lighter note…. The experience at Hurricane Kate's kept getting better, as the food was amazing, too. After some great coffee (French press), I had the Mulligatawny stew which was very flavorful and I won't be able to really describe it so I won't even try. For the main course I had a Margherita Chicken sandwich that was probably the best chicken sandwich I've ever had. Grilled chicken with roasted poblano peppers, avocado, romaine, tomato, cilantro pesto aioli and jack cheese. And the side put me over the top and made the meal in itself blog-worthy: Sweet potato fritters. Three balls of deep-fried sweet potato that were so good I had to take the last one back to the boat. I finished the sandwich, so it was like asking the waiter to wrap up my five remaining french fries for later, but it's worth it. Well, after just thinking about it again I had to finish it, and it's not quite the same when cold, four hours after it'd been cooked, but it's still very flavorful and ... great. I need more descriptors if I’m ever going to be a food critic. Anyway, when the fritters are fresh they’re crispy on the outside and warm inside like a Krispy Kreme doughnut, but perfectly spicy and sweet-potatoey. I'll be back there again, probably at lunch... hoping to see the lady there again.
 
TT

Note: I've expanded on this a bit in an "I Saw You" episode.

We got to the harbor marker at Humboldt Bay last night around 9:30. It then took about 40 minutes to make our way across the bar and up the channel into the marina. The bar crossing was easy, as there was a slight flood tide and very small swells, but I'm glad Capt Rich was running the show. I feel confident that I can manage a bar crossing like that - in fact, I played along in my head as if I were doing it myself ("okay, I see the next set of range markers lining up; I'd turn 20-degrees right... now") - but it was good to have an expert do it the first time. Here's a view of the Humboldt Bay bar. The City Marina is in the upper left, just above and left of the smoke stack. This bar's got a nasty reputation when the swells are up, but of course I'll wait for good conditions to leave. Here's a nice model of the bar conditions that I'll use to plot my escape. You can see that at the end of the model (currently Thursday 10/18) the waves will be hitting the north jetty at about 18' and the swells even in the middle of the channel are 14'. There's no way that bar is passable then. For a longer range look, check out stormsurfing.com's prediciton model of Cape Mendocino for the next 180 hours. Note especially the predicted swells at 06Z Saturday (that's 6:00 AM Saturday GMT/Zulu, which is 11PM Friday PDT). Yes, those are 28 foot swells they're predicting. Now you know why I'm in port, and why I may be here for more than 10 days.
 
Anyway, last night after we got in we tied up on an outer pier for the night, and I made some more spaghetti. Woke this morning after a 9-hour sleep and Capt Rich was all packed & ready to go, so I got up and we moved the boat into my assigned spot which will be my home for the next week or so. Then we settled up finances, I thanked Capt Rich for his excellent help on my first ocean voyage, and then he got into a taxi and I started walking to town for some breakfast.

Eureka is a decent little town. The "Old Town" area has some nice little restaurants I'm looking forward to checking out this week. There was also an adult "toy store" I walked by that had some interesting costumes in the window for something like an 18th century duke and cortesan. Like Dangerous Liasons. Cool, but I'll pass for this Halloween. And of course on the way back I fell into the "browsing the chandelry" trap, and ended up buying all sorts of stuff for the boat. I needed most of it (oil, grease, antenna mount, 2 Lewmar Synchro blocks to better rig the yankee and staysail roller furling, a couple tubes of 3M 5200 marine sealant) but I'm not sure I needed to spend $75 on tuna fishing gear (3 jigs @ $13 each, $35 for 10 stainless hooks!). Oh well, if I get even one nice tuna out of it it will pay for the gear.

In the chandelry (Englund Marine) I saw some photos on the wall of breakers around some large fishing boats as they crossed the bar. The guy says that was winter of 2000, and when those photos were taken was actually the best conditions they'd had for a while. Ugh.

TT