The Taco Traveler

10:45 AM
I had a very good night last night, with plenty of sleep in 20-minute bursts before my iPhone countdown timer would wake me up for a radar/AIS/light check. I usually set the timer for 25 minutes, and occasionally fall asleep about 5 to 10 minutes into the timer, I think. Anyway, I feel pretty fresh, but my eyes are sore. I'm going to bypass Morro Bay and instead go straight for San Luis Obispo and just anchor out. I don't really have a need to go ashore, but we'll see. Mainly, I just need to anchor for some good sleep (and anchoring practice, as I haven't yet anchored Chemistry (II).
 
I have to say, I really love AIS. It's so comforting to be able to look at my Nobeltec charting and see all the AIS targets all around me and know their size, heading, speed, destination, etc.... I've got a screen grab from last night where I had no less than nine AIS targets (mostly container ships) in my vicinity but much farther offshore. I'll upload a screenshot when I can. I'm having trouble uploading it because both Picasa and Blogger want to resize it for me, and it's a GIF with text, so a resize screws it up.

After a beautiful sunset this morning, I rested a bit more, snoozing in the rays of the rising sun. There's been almost no wind since yesterday late afternoon, so we've been motoring along at 7 knots (2500 RPM) for 16 hours now. After snoozing a bit, I decided to throw out the fishing line with tuna jig. Not 5 minutes later the reel was spooling. It had to be something big because I had the tension set pretty tight. I went back (carefully) and tried to reel it in, but it was very very strong and wasn't coming along easily. I tried to keep tension on but it got away, which is probably good since I'm not absolutlely positive it was a tuna. I'm a bit close in for tuna, but who knows.

Shortly after the missed tuna(?) I got more company, as a pod of dolphins came by and cruised along in my bow wave for a bit. I wasn't able to get a picture as I was heading directly into the sun so all the camera saw was glare. They weren't relly playful anyway - just swimming and not surfacing much. Then a seal cruised by and leaped out of the water to get a better look at me. Needless to say I was much too slow for a picture of his jump.

I'm about 8 miles offshore at almost the latitude of Morro Bay. Need to get some work done, so I'd just as soon keep going rather than sit in a marina or at anchor and work. More later.

4:45PM
At anchor in San Luis Obispo. This is the first time I've anchored this boat. Not the first time I tried; I tried up near Seattle at Port Ludlow, the night before she went in for the mast step overhaul in Port Townsend. But on that occasion the chain was all gnarled up in the chain locker and wouldn't come out. Today I had the same problem after the initial 30 feet or so, which was sort of scary since the bottom depth was 29 feet, so I had about the worst amount of chain out possible: long enough to drag along the bottom, but not long enough to bury. If I hadn't been able to force additional chain out by banging on it, and if I'd been drifting towards other boats, I might have had a problem. Anyway, I got enough out, but I'm not sure how much. The windlass has issues (primary issue being I'm not aware of all its features/quirks) but I can't get it to go out; I can only make it bring chain in. I know the previous owners deployed the anchor from the cockpit (he even told me how many feet/sec the windlass pays out (1 ft/sec)). So I have more playing around to do before I'm completely comfortable. I also need to repaint the markings on the chain so I know exactly how much is down there. There are marking on there now, but I have no idea if it's marked every 40 feet, 50 feet, 100? I lost track of length there on the bow tugging and kicking trying to get the tangled chain out of the hawsepipe.

Anyway, I'm having a margarita, eating some chips & bean dip, and getting ready for a bit of soup for dinner before going for a nice long sleep (unless my GPS alarm wakes me to say the anchor is dragging - ugh). It's pretty windy out there, but my anchoring spot is pretty well protected, and the anchor is a slightly over-sized plow (50 lbs) for this boat. Plus the tide is going out (non-boaters, look up "anchor rode 'scope': water depth's effect on". :) Ugh, check that. The wind has shifted and now is trying to blow me towards the pier (one of the piers; this bay has 3 piers). I've got about 400 feet between me & the pier, so if I do start dragging hopefully I'll get to the motor quickly enough. I just let out more rode (increase the scope), and I appear to be holding pretty well. I hate the idea of re-anchoring. I'll probably double-check and test the GPS anchor alarm, and in any case I'll not sleep as well as I could have with no wind.

I leave tomorrow mid-late morning for another 20+ hour run. This time to Catalina or somewhere therabouts. Hoping to hit San Diego by Sunday night or early Monday.

TT

It's 9:15 on Wednesday morning, November 13, and I'm within an hour of setting off for San Diego. Stowing stuff in case the ride is bumpy and getting ready to turn in the key and borrowed 50 Amp to 30 Amp pigtail. I need to get to San Diego by Monday evening for a Tuesday the 20th flight to Seattle for Thanksgiving. Here are two of many possible itineraries:
 
Route 1:
Leg 1: SF to Monterey (91nm / 12 hrs) Wed 10am to Wednesday 10pm
Monterey Bay Marina + Monterey touring
Leg 2: Monterey to San Luis Obisbo (125nm / 17 hrs) Friday 10pm to Saturday 3pm
Just sleep
Leg 3: SLO to Catalina (172nm / 24 hrs) Saturday 3pm to Sunday 3pm Catalina
Leg 4: Catalina to San Diego (82nm / 12 hrs) Sunday 3am to Monday 3pm
Leave San Diego for Seattle Tuesday 12:30 pm.
Notes: Nighttime port entrances. No room for bad weather (though bad weather very unlikely). No time to stop & relax, really, at ports.

Route 2:
Leg 1: SF to Morro Bay (185nm / 24 hrs) Wed 10am to Thursday 10am
Leg 2: Morro Bay to Catalina (185nm / 24 hrs) Friday 10am to Saturday 10am
Santa Cruz Island approx 110nm (15 hrs) would arrive at midnight Saturday for a rest at anchcor if necessary.
Leg 3: Catalina to San Diego (82nm / 12 hrs) Sunday 3am to Monday 3pm

I'm leaning towards Route 2, with bigger legs & fewer stops. But we'll see. I'll update the blog along the way, as I'm sure I'll have internet or at least phone for some of the trip down the coast. I don't plan on getting more than 20 miles offshore, and for most of it I'll only be about 5 or 6 miles out.

I've got some things to say about San Francisco, now after having spent more time, but I'll leave that for a separate entry.

TT

Once again, I've thrown my itinerary out the window and will need to stick around San Francisco for the rest of this week and through the weekend, after which I will fly to Florida to visit the boys and R will take a much-deserved holiday. After I return here to S.F. on 10/12, I'll begin the next stage of the trip, but that will only take me as far as San Diego before it's time for a trip to Seattle for Thanksgiving (11/20 - 11/25). Then, I'll be in Florida again from 12/9 to 12/19 while R goes on travel. Wow, that's a lot of flying for a sailing trip!
 
So, as I suspected it might, it's proving to be a part-time endeavor actually re-locating the boat farther south. That's the beauty of flexibility, I guess. There's work to do, there's the boys missing me and needing me with them more, and there's my need and desire to experience everything a place has to offer: a few more restaurants, the Jeff Wall retrospective at SFMoMA, Angel Island, the wine country.... Sure, I stand by my earlier posts about San Francisco being a rude and disagreeable city in general, but a georgeous tour guide can bring a little light into any old place. ;)

TT

There was a time when I thought this city would be as far as I got on this trip. That I'd get here and love it so much that I'd decide to just re-settle and work, finish building the thing (the web site / technology) I've built, get a nice condo and start the bi-coastal life where I'm with the boys in Florida for two weeks and here for two weeks. If you've read my previous entry, you know that it only took me about fifteen minutes of walking to decide that this place isn't what I imagined it to be, and now I'm left wishing I could just wrap up the four or five people I've enjoyed of the hundreds I've encountered and just take them with me to somewhere that I can only hope is better, less emotionally taxing (not to mention less income taxing). But I don't know, maybe those places will suck, too. And if they do, I guess I'll move on. Or we'll move on.
 
Maybe I'm the reincarnation of the Ancient Mariner who once, many millenia ago, killed the albatross. And now, as penance, I'm forced to wander the earth and tell people how shitty their city is, and that they should stop being such dicks:

Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, though Wedding Guest!
He prayeth well who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.

He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.

Well, that's how Coleridge told it, anyway, with all the praying and the loveth-ing. But it boils down to this: Insensitivity is a crime.

At some point I expect I'll find a place that isn't too bad. A place where people don't accost you on the street and ask for "money for alcohol research" or sleep in every other doorway, where joggers make an effort to spit almost anywhere but the sidewalk, where there's warmth, and light, and good food, good people.... And probably, still, I'll move on. I hope it's always my fortunate privilege to wander the earth and seek out more of those places. Or, more accurately, more of that warmth, more of those people.

TT

When I was in first grade, I lived in Foster City, California for a year. I don't even remember what we were doing here, but I'm sure it had something to do with some work my dad was doing. I remember a park down the road. I remember a front yard made of decorative stones in the shape of a star. I remember a late night at Candlestick Park watching Vida Blue pitch, coming home really late with an airplane the flew around a stick. I remember my school being nearby and once playing at the playground when there was a guy there playing guitar (back when we didn't worry about single guys playing guitar on a playground). I remember walking across a bridge to a store that had those little sticks of wax with sugar-water inside. And I remember falling in love for the first time.
 
Her name was Heather, and I hid around a corner and jumped out to kiss her one rainy day when she and another first-grade friend walked by under an umbrella. I remember sitting in my room on a bedspread speckled with little Russian soldiers dancing that Russian soldier dance, counting my money because I wanted to just give it to her. My mom convinced me to buy her something nice, instead, so I bought her a plastic ring from a machine. It was purple.

So maybe I had some sort of adolescent fascination and unrealistic expectations for this town, but frankly, I'm disappointed to see what it's become. Yeah, sure, you can never go home again, but come on. You can't make eye contact? You can't return a smile? You can't acknowledge a "hello" or "good morning?" After nearly two weeks of nothing but friendliness amongst the southbound cruisers and the hometown Eurekans (with the exception of a few fishermen), I'm just not used to people who have no class. Today on the dock I saw a man wearing a goofy commodore's hat (ala Thurston Howell III) without even a hint of irony. He was walking towards his big but shitty motoryacht, and he scowled when I smiled at him.

I have a new theory about this town: it's so proud of its "differences," its ability to look past all the little eccentricities that make all its individuals individuals, that it's decided to just look past everyone. It's almost clique-ish. It's as if it's gone and separated itself into these distinct groups that all say: "You do what you like in your own bedroom, pal. But I'm going to be over here with my people, and I don't feel obligated to associate with you or whatever you may be." And to be completely honest, I've fallen into the trap, too. There were more people I could have smiled at, been approachable to while walking down the road, but come on... it's San Francisco! What would that dude think if I smiled?

I'm leaving this place on Monday. It's not warm or clean or beautiful enough to be this pretentious. It's just not a nice city. Sorry for all the people who are nice, but so far, from what I've seen, your city is filled with a bunch of dicks. And you're making me feel like a dick.

TT

Click to see Photos for this entry
 
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

Update 2/18/2008: Updated this for the 6th time, removing all legs prior to Puerto Vallarta. Also updating to allow for shorter trips (single-handing again) and to add places as recommended by friends I've made along the way. Currently in Panama City, FL visiting the boys. Boat is in La Cruz de Huanacaxtle, near Puerto Vallarta.

February 28 -- La Cruz to PV (day sail)
Approx 10 miles. Visit PV for nightlife & etc., get autopilot fixed.

Early March, 2008 -- PV to Zihuantanejo
Approx 420 miles. Including Tenacatita, Barra de Navidad and Manzanillo.

Mid March, 2008 -- Zihuantanejo, Mexico to Hualtulco, Mexico, to Playa de Coco, Costa Rica
Approx 1200 miles. Way offshore to avoid high winds coming off the Gulf of Tehuantepec (Tehuantepecers, heh heh... really - that's what they call them) as winds from the Gulf of Mexico shoot across the Isthmus of Tehuantepec through a narrow gap in the Sierra Madre mountains - picking up speed and spilling into the Pacific. The very end of this leg also crosses the Gulf of Papagayo, where more high winds occur.

Mid-Late March, 2008 -- Cruising Costa Rica's Pacific coast
After clearing into Costa Rica at Playa de Coco, we'll spend between 8 and 10 days making our way down to Golfito.

Late March, 2008 -- Golfito, Costa Rica to Pedregal, Panama.
After returning from Florida and celebrating the new year, we'll depart Golfito on a 100-mile hop around the Punta Burica into Panama and the Port of Pedregal. After clearing in at Pedregal, we'll cruise for 360 miles of islands and coastline including the Islas Secas and the Archipelago de las Pearlas before joining the rest of humanity waiting to get through the Canal sometime before the end of January. I'd hope to not have to rush through this part, as I'm not sure when I'll transit the Canal again. Assuming a Florida base for the foreseeable future, I'll see plenty of Caribbean islands and could cross the Gulf of Mexico for the Yucatan or Belize, but transiting the Canal from East to West will probably happen only one more time -- when I go back through to cruise the South Pacific. And it sounds to me like the Pacific coast has more to offer anyway in the way of nature, and a cruise of this coast won't be complete without a couple of river journeys where we can anchor and wake up in the middle of a jungle.

Late March, 2008 -- Transit Panama Canal
Need to leave a little buffer here, as you can't schedule an exact date/time for transit... basically we'll just show up at the Balboa Yacht Club and they'll tell us how many days we'll have to wait.

Early April, 2008 -- Colon, Panama to Punta Gorda, Belize
About 920 miles north up the Caribbean Sea to Belize. This could be the harshest part of the trip, with potential for battling currents and/or wind for a long passsage.

Mid April (Spring Break?), 2008 -- Belize
About 160 miles of Belize cruising inside the barrier reef, from Punta Gorda to Ambergris Cay. Boys spring break is April 7-11, so they might join me here for this easy cruising?

Mid April, 2008 -- Belize to Cozumel, Mexico
About 190 miles

Late April, 2008 -- Depart Cozumel for Panama City, Florida