Nov 2: Catalina island at last! (sorry this is so long. I have had no internet for over a week, and a lot has happened!)

The faux electric tiki torches flicker on shore tonight at the boy scout camp at Whites cove on Catalina island. I am anchored off shore in No Bad Days, glad it is Wednesday and not Thursday. Thursdays are the day they bestow the Order of the Arrow award, when an honorable member of the Order, clad in loin cloth (a wash cloth tucked in his swim trunks) and war paint (toothpaste smeared in streaks on his cheeks) shoots a flaming arrow high up and into the water to open the ceremonies. ( At least that is how they did it at Camp Meriwether back in Oregon 40 years ago… maybe things are a bit different now…) I can see the headlines now: “Would-be ocean explorer rescued by boys scouts when boat bursts into flames during ceremony”.

Yes folks I finally got around to sailing out to Catalina island in my own boat. Like most of my adventures, this one started out as something else and got of hand. I left Dana 2 days ago thinking I would harbor hop for several days up along the coast, popping in on Newport, Long beach, Kings, marina del rey, Santa monica and santa barbara harbors. On the way back I “may“ head out to Catalina if conditions looked good. As I headed out of Newport on the second day of my voyage and saw Long beach ahead, with the air all brown and disgusting hovering over the harbor like the “thing that destroyed the human race“, I decided I really didn’t want to visit all those harbors anyway so today was the day to turn left and go to Catalina. The winds really didn’t pick up until after about 1 PM and at that point I was only about 2 miles off from Newport so I had a long ways to go, about 25 miles. I knew there was a good chanced I would not make it in before sundown and may have to spend the night out in the middle somewhere waiting until tomorrow. Even if I made it all the way across tonight there was no way I would risk trying to enter a strange harbor at night, especially a night as dark as this one would be, so I was prepared for the prospect of having to be tacking back and forth all night in one place a few miles off the coast, waiting for daylight. However, the winds picked up and we really flew. We made 5-6 knots almost the whole way, and completed the crossing in 5 hours. The new automatic tiller pilot worked like a champ, keeping a straight course at full speed while I trimmed the sails for optimum performance, fixed meals, checked the charts, changed into warmer clothes, and prepared the anchoring gear. Normally each of these activities would have required me to “pull over” and stop, losing any way forward and requiring much time and effort to recover my way ahead, but the auto-tiller let us keep going non stop. One big concern I had is that half way across the channel there is a shipping lane where the big ocean-going tankers come and go to and from Los Angeles harbor. It is about 5 miles across, with 1 lane for northbound traffic, a wide “separation zone” in the middle, and another southbound lane. Sort of like a freeway for supertankers. These monster ships are so big and high off the water they cannot even see a little boat like mine, even when I hang a radar reflector from the mast, and even if they could see me they can’t turn fast enough to avoid running me over anyway, so it is not a good place to spend the night bobbing about waiting for the winds to pick up again, and I needed to make sure I was across before dark. No problem. With me running at full speed I was across the ‘freeway” in plenty of time, and didn’t even see a ship anyway.

I pulled into Avalon harbor on Catalina island just about 6:30 PM as the sun was going down and it was instantly dark and I had to anchor by flashlight. I carry a big 2 million candle power torch for times like this (really: how they know it is 2 million? I think they just make that stuff up…) but it did the trick and I had no real problems seeing where to be and getting anchored. The water in that harbor is very deep, about 80 feet, so I needed to run out about 90 feet of chain and 300 feet of anchor line to make sure I would stay put for the night. I usually anchor in about 12 feet of water and only use about 70 feet of line so I had to rummage about in the storage lockers for a few more ropes to tie on in order to gitter dun.

The next day it was a real chore pulling in all that line and chain. For the first time I had to use my winch to pull it all up off the bottom and in and stowed on board.

My plan is to do a complete circumnavigation of the island, popping in to several of the bays for a night before I head back to Dana. I have plenty of food, water and fuel so I may spend more than a week out here.

Whites Cove is my next stop, and is a very nice place, with a nice pebble beach (private, for the boy scouts only!) , big cliffs rising up above, a big “bird rock” covered with snow-white guano, and sea caves to explore at low tide. And the boat scout camp to avoid. I spent the night and pulled anchor early to get on my way

OK, yesterday was Thursday, not Wednesday. I get confused out here. Good thing I didn’t get hit by a flaming arrow!. So today Friday I sailed out and up to Isthmus Harbor. Actually the wind was very light bordering on calm, so I bobbed about a lot and worked on my tan. I did few chores on the boat, and read a lot. I am reading “Horse Whisperer”. I didn’t care much for the movie but my boat neighbor was done with it and gave it to me and it is a actually pretty good read. I can’t remember who played the lady in the movie but I see Robert Redford in my head when Tom Booker says something profound about the psychology of troubled horses and how they help heal people ….

I bobbed along past a beautiful shoreline of big cliffs interrupted by the cool little beach coves of Hen rock, Buttonshell beach, Goat harbor, Ripper Cover, and Imperial beach. Each beach had several private mooring balls installed, and a few simple buildings set back in the groves palm and eucalyptus trees. Most of these beaches are leased to private clubs or organizations like the YMCA , Boy Scouts, or universities, and are off limits to anyone else coming on shore. OK to anchor out front as long as I don’t block their mooring and don’t step foot on the sand. major bummer.

The hills above the cliffs and beaches are steep brushy desert hills rising up to ridges where there are radio towers of every kind. Seems a lot like the Utah hills out in the west desert. In fact 20,000 years ago Utah it was probably just like this. All that flat area was under water and all the mountain ranges were then islands. The rocks, the cliffs, the steep cut gorges, the sparse desert vegetation, all seems very similar to Utah.

It was getting late, after 4 PM, and still no wind so I fired up the motor and steamed into Isthmus Harbor and dropped anchor. Catalina island is shaped like an “eight”, with a narrow isthmus separating the two lobes of land, and 2 harbors on either side of the isthmus. I was on the East side, called Isthmus harbor , with Catalina Harbor on the other side only a few hundred yards away.

More news later as I get a chance to explore. No internet access here so I am writing with the intent to post this when I can.

Saturday Nov 6. Last night a storm blew through about 1 AM. It was not unexpected but the winds did a very odd thing and came from opposite the expected direction. I was keeping my anchor watch all night, setting an alarm and waking every hour to take a look around. My anchor was well set and held well no matter which way the wind blew. Sometime during the night 2 boats anchored uncomfortably close too me and when I saw them I settled in to the cockpit under a sleeping bag to keep a close eye on things. We both bobbed around in the storm and came fairly close a few times, maybe within 20 feet or so, but then we would shift away again. I had set my GPS to alert me if I have moved more than “X” distance, (last night I set it to 50 feet) and it never went off so I assume it was them who were drifting so much. Or maybe my GPS was screwed up. I was not counting that out either. At one point I noticed one of them drift out to sea beyond the beam of my 2,000,000 candle power light. He ended up back nearby by morning so I guess he noticed and found his way back. Things were calmer by morning but we started drifting even closer than last night so I gave them a holler and a fellow crawled out too say good morning and we had a nice chat. His boat was named Junk Yard Dog but he had scratched out the word “junk” and over written it with “Ocean” . He introduced himself as Groovy and his black lab is Zachariah. He was about 30ish, and had a long beard pulled into a pony tail. He was from Illinois, had ridden a train and then a bus from there to the coast, and had just bought the boat, a Catalina 20, on Ebay for $76. He had been on it since July, about as long as I have been on No Bad Days. It seemed obvious that he did not have a “home slip” like I had, and was really a true vagabond cruising the seas. He wanted to end up in Japan, but was worried that perhaps this boat was not sea worthy enough to get him there. Hmmm. His traveling buddy, Andy, the one that drifted out to sea and back again, was in a similar boat called “the Bearded Lady” which seemed appropriate because it looked like it had been a long time since the bottom had been cleaned and he was trailing a long beard of seaweed from underneath. I had a nice chat with Groovy, (Andy never did join in) and I learned that we actually had a lot in common, in that he didn’t want to be bothered with motors and such and wanted to just sail. (but that was largely dictated by current finances. He said if I ever wanted to sell my motor cheap he would buy it…)

I pumped up my kayak and paddled into the town of Two Harbors, which consists of a general store, a restaurant, a small inn, a harbor office where you can rent moorings and water toys, and a few houses for the support folks. Nice small and quiet. I could see myself enjoying that place. The storm was still blowing and threatening rain but it never did rain and actually settled down and got nice by about noon. I took a short walk across the narrow peninsula to Catalina Harbor on the other side of the island. The land is very much like Mexico around the sea of Cortez. Steep cliffy rocky hillsides dropping down to the shoreline, fiord-like, with scattered scrubby brush and grasses, red rocky soil poking through, much prickly pair cactus growing. I took a bite of one of the pears. They are purple, about the size of a small lemon. Very juicy, I am not sure how to describe the flavor. A bit tart, Sort of slimy feeling in the mouth but not unpleasant. I would eat them again.

This was the longest walk I have taken since I hurt my foot in July. It felt OK but after about an hour it was paining me a bit. Still not to back to prime.

I got back to town and has lunch to celebrate my visit to Catalina. A patty melt on rye sandwich, French fries, and a beer. Mmm boy I do enjoy a nice grease-fest once in a while. I filled up my spare gas can (6 gallons) for $5.21 per gallon. I guess they know we are bit of a captive audience here…..

I paddled back to No Bad Days and discovered my new buddies Groovy, Zachariah, and Andy had left. I am sure I will run into them again. It is a small world. I spent the afternoon again trying to fix a chronic slow leak in my kayak. I seem to be having trouble finding a glue that will stick to this rubber material. I am on my 4the type of glue and still no success. Hmm. May have to send away to the factory. I also fabricated a little ladder out of PVC pipe and rope to make it easier to crawl out of the kayak up onto a dock. This little kayak is very seaworthy, feels steady and comfortable while paddling, but not at all easy to get in and out of. I think this little ladder will be just the ticket. I will test it out tomorrow.

Yesterday on the phone my dad told me he would like to come visit me next week. I am so excited to see him and show off my new little world here on the boat. I do need to make sure I am able to get back to Dana in time to meet him at the airport. Today I took careful notes of the weather for the next 5 days and planned out the rest of my trip and it should all work out fine. Tomorrow I plan to sail around the upper west tip of the island to the harbor on the other side of the peninsula, A 15 mile sailing journey. Or a 5 minute walk….

Sunday Nov 7th. I got up early to prepare for my passage around the west end of the island. I wanted to have everything ready to go by daylight, 7AM. I had breakfast, coffee, rolled up the kayak. The new glue patch seems to have held so far! I went to pull up the pig iron that I had slid down the anchor line and found its line hopelessly tangled with the main anchor line. I made the mistake of letting it all the way to the ground and the 2 lines twisted and twisted. I suspect that if it had dangled a bit off the bottom this would not have happened. I didn’t want to cut either one so I worked away on it and took about an hour and all my strength to get it sorted out. At one point I was holding up all the pig iron and the entire anchor chain and anchor all at once in order to make some a slack to get a knot undone. I will have to rethink whether there is a better way to do this. Some guys say just use one heavy anchor and lots of chain and don’t mess with these other messes. By about 7:00 when I finally had it all sorted out and was motoring out of the bay I was a convert to that simplicity idea.

I motored for about 2 hours, up past Rowlands landing, Emerald bay, Parsons landing, and on out to the western tip of Catalina. The western point is very dramatic with several tall rocks, with waves dashing up on them throwing a big spray high in the air. There is a flashing navigation light which I bet is a big comfort if rounding this point in the dark. Around the point, the winds and seas were still fairly calm. As I pulled around the corner to the south western side I was struck by how rugged the shore line was. Steep cliffs came right done to the water. There very few bays or beaches on this side, and it felt very remote and isolated. Where on the eastern side every inch of shore is lined with social camps and moorings, on this side there was nothing civilized like that. I saw a few fishing boats along the shore but I was the only sailboat. It was an odd feeling to know that to my right for 6000 miles there was nothing but ocean! All summer I have always had this curb called “Catalina” 30 miles out there as a boundary for my horizon but here, that was behind me and it was open ocean for a very long way! One of these days I would like to head out that way for a few days and , just see what it is like to be out beyond the sight of land and even the lights of the city, which seem to dominate the eastern horizon.

The winds picked up a bit and I killed the engine and sailed. The forecast was for cloudy skies and possible light rain but light winds too and that is exactly what we had. It was easy sailing with the wind over my right shoulder and I made good time along the coast. I was determined to make it to Catalina Harbor but wanted to make it on to Little Harbor if I could. There was supposed to be a big blow coming in tonight that might last a day or 2 and I wanted to make it as far as I could in case I had to lay over there a day for it to pass. I pulled into Little harbor easily by 2:00 and had it all to my self, which is good because it really is Little! The guide book says there is room for about a dozen boats here but I had a hard time finding room for myself! After I dropped my anchor and played out enough rope, I was feeling too close to a big rock in case we were to swing on the anchor so I pulled it all in, motored 50 feet away and did it again and felt much better. I revved the engine hard in reverse and felt I had a good set to the anchor. I wanted to prevent any swinging in here so I decided to use the kayak to place another anchor at an angle off my starboard bow. I planned it very carefully to prevent tangles and it worked very well, paddling over with the anchor in the kayak between my feet, trailing out line and chain as I went and dropping out the anchor when I got to the end of the line. I set the GPS anchor alarm to allow for no more than 20 feet of swing and so far, after many hours and a lot of bouncing later, the boat has not swung more than a few feet on the main chain, held steady by the supplemental anchor. Cool! I hope it is not a real pain getting it all back in when it is time to go. I suspect it may be. Hmmm.

I paddle on over to shore to take a look around. Little Harbor is a really cool camping area where people can drive into. There is a shuttle that can also drop them off so they don’t even need to bring a car over across the ferry. It is a very pretty area with sandy beach, grass, a few palms trees, picnic tables, a few water spigots. The hillsides above are more rounded, not too cliffy, covered with grass, low brush, and cactus. A group of kids on a bus were just leaving when I got there and left the place empty except for one car with an older couple still there. I hiked a bit to get a good view of the bay. It is a very enclosed protected area, with high cliffs on both sides of the bay opening enclosing with a pebble beach along the back edge. There are a few rocky outcroppings that interrupt the beach, breaking it into smaller sections. I scrambled up the tallest one for a better view looking down on my boat anchored there right in the middle, just like in the sailing magazines! Bummer I forgot to bring my camera over. I hope the weather is such that tomorrow I can come back on shore just for that!. There was one section of beach that was more open to the waves and there was quite a set of big breaking waves there, but it is more calm over where I am anchored.

But not totally calm. By the time I got back on board there was some swell starting to rock me around a bit and I know it will be a long night. Another sailboat entered the harbor just before dark and I felt bad that it looked like I took up the whole bay. They told me no problem and started to lay out their anchor over by the big rock that I had moved away from. They tried many times to get their anchor to set and it kept pulling! Looked like their anchor flukes were fouling in the kelp so the flukes couldn’t grab the sand. I was surprised because I didn’t seem to have any trouble getting mine to set the first time. They tried again and again for over an hour finally pulled out and moved on out into the dark sea. I assume they will head over to Cat harbor, only 3 miles away. But now I got to worrying about my anchor . It felt like it set, but I can never be too sure. I hope it really is . I am prepared to keep awake and watch all night and be prepared to move out it if starts to slide. I had dinner and got the boat all tucked in for the night, ready to go if need be. I will not make up the bed, just sleep in my clothes on the bench, ready for whatever adventure comes along. It is now 8:00 and all is well. The swell coming into the bay is pretty strong and I am rockin’ and rolling but we are well protected from the wind down in here.

Ok it is now Tuesday Nov 9. A lot has happened since the last paragraph. I am now on a mooring safely in Avalon harbor after the most harrowing 30 hours of my life. The boat did rock all Sunday night in Little harbor as expected, and Little harbor was not as protected from this storm as I expected it to be. There is a rocky reef that hooked around from the right to enclose the bay and breaks the seas during lower tides, but as the tide comes in and the water raised 7 feet, the waves drowned the rocks and pass on over and break on me! It was a very long night with the anchor drag alarm going off every few minutes. Most of that was caused by swinging back and forth, even though I had 2 anchors out. As they drug a bit some slack came in and allowed the swinging. I didn’t want to pull in that new slack because more “scope” (or the ratio of water depth to length of line out) is good to prevent or slow the dragging.

Morning came and the storm intensified., with stronger winds and higher waves. At least it was daylight and warm and I could enjoy watching it, but as I dragged little by little closer to shore I knew things would get uglier as the day went on. I knew that as the tide went out by about 4:00 PM I would then be in water barely a foot deeper than my keel. As a wave comes in and pushes you up, it is followed by a trough of that same measure deep that you drop into so even a 1 foot wave would bounce me on the bottom, breaking the keel and rudder. Not good. I was in no danger of myself getting hurt, since the shore was right there 100 feet away and I could easily swim to safety, but the boat could be destroyed. Even then, since it was a sand beach, with only a few rocks here and there, there was a chance that the boat would just sort of wallow sideways there in the shallow water and take some water damage but after the storm I could paddle an anchor out into deeper water and winch her back out, pump her dry and float her out. She would survive but everything would likely be damaged by then water. Not good number 2

I was running all the scenarios through my mind. I needed to get my boat back out further from shore into deeper water, but getting those anchors pulled and the boat moved and anchors back out again all by myself seemed impossible. As soon as I pulled the anchor up off the ground before I could it up on deck and back to the engine to maneuver was afraid I would be swept into the rocks, and after watching those guys last night try again and again without success, I didn’t hold much hope that I would enjoy my beginners’ luck again of a good anchor holding first time.

Another possibility was just letting the anchors go and make a break for open ocean, taking my chances out there. I have heard that sometimes a boat is safer out in the ocean than near shore since there is nothing out there to run into! Many times, if boats know of a storm coming, they leave a sketchy harbor and head out to sea as far as they can so they handle the situation out there with nothing hard to run into. However, I was already stuck in a sketchy harbor in the middle of this storm. And this was the dreaded “lee shore” that shipwreck stories all talk about, where the wind pushes you onto the shore rocks and I would be headed out into a bigger storm than I have ever been in before and was not sure how well I could handle it alone. It would be very difficult if not unlikely that I could make it out there against the wind and waves and live to tell about it. Hmm, what to do, what to do.? I felt like that poor guy in Kansas watching the tornado come towards him. Does he run to save himself, or stay and arrange a few more cables over the top of his mobile home to keep it from being blown away in case the twister does hit it? It may not even hit him but who knows? My boat may not even drag any more and all would be well. Hmm what to do what to do?

I fretted with this all day, preparing a few things in a dry-bag to take to shore with me if I had to abandon ship. It was odd, with the sun shining so warmly and possible destruction of my home just a few feet away and getting closer.

Finally at about 2:30 I couldn’t take it any more. None of the options seemed good, so I picked up the 2 way radio and for the first time in my life I called Mayday Mayday and requested help. It was a bit of a “hail Mary” action actually, because these marine radios are good for “line of sight” communication only and I was on the remote side of the island, not sure if anyone could even hear me. I was surprised to be responded to by San Diego Coast guard. It was a pretty bad connection but we could make out what each other was saying. They patched me to Los Angeles Coast Guard who patched me to Isthmus Harbor (on Catalina ) Coast guard and I explained what was going on. Within about 15 minutes a yellow truck pulled up on the beach in front of me and 2 Baywatch rescue guys ran down the beach in red wetsuits and dove in the water and swan out to me. They had driven 5 miles from Isthmus harbor over on the other side of the island. (good thing the island is thin at that point!) I thought they only helped swimmers but here they were helping me save my boat! I was just then talking on the radio to the San Diego coast guard guy who had called me back in 15 minutes as he had promised and I told him thanks but I had to go and let down my ladder for the Baywatch guys. These guys were total studs, I must say. I’ll tell you when I grow I want to be a Baywatch guy. Forget Pamela Anderson and David What’s his Hoff. These are the real deal. They swam out, came on board, we had a quick pow-wow, and came up with a plan to get all my anchors (just as they had pulled up to the beach I had tossed out another one, with no hope that it would help since it was so close to the boat, “no scope” as we say, but it seemed better than doing nothing.) and secured on deck and then we would decide on step 2, which would be either move me out into deeper water and reset all 3 anchors, or decide whether to head out into the storm and make for Catalina harbor. I never did get their names but there was a younger one and an older one (“old?” I don’t know, he had grey hair anyway…) and both fit as Olympic athletes and they really knew their way around a boat in a storm. The younger one dove back in, swam over to where my anchors were, dove down, pulled them up, and swam them back over to me. WOW! He treaded water next to the boat and handed me up a 15 pound anchor at arms length over his head. Twice! Meanwhile the other guy was helping me get all the lines situated so we didn’t have total chaos on board. Somewhere in all of this frenzy the older fellow asked me “So what is the name of your boat?” and I said “No Bad Days” and he smiled and said “hmm except maybe for today eh?“. We had a good laugh… sort of a nervous laugh though. We were ready to pull the last main anchor when a harbor patrol Sheriffs boat pulled into the bay. This was a fairly small looking boat but had lots of horsepower. He has 2 250 HP engines on the back and seemed pretty darn capable of getting around. We had a quick radio pow-wow with him and decided that things were such that it would be feasible for me to motor over to Cat Harbor, 3 miles away, and he would stay right there with me. I had my engine running now and the Baywatch guys pulled up the last anchor and stowed it while I held our position in the bay with the motor. The wind and wave were really roaring still but I was doing OK. I thanked the Bay Watch guys profusely and they said “hey no problem, this is fun for us” and before I knew it they were jumping off and swimming back to shore. Like “Who are those masked men?” At least I got a chance to thanks them. I headed out of the bay, careful to pull wide around the rocky reef, and hung a right turn, dead into the winds and waves, towards Cat harbor. The moment I pulled around the corner of the reef all hell broke loose, pardon my French. The waves were 20 feet high and steep, and as I climbed up over each one and down the other side, my stern would be so high in the air the propeller was only spinning in air. Not only was this was giving me no forward motion but at the same time was burning up my engine. It was obvious I was never going to make to Cat harbor when the radio crackled again, the Baywatch guys were still on shore watching and they suggested that either I come back in and they would help me get my anchors set again, or that I could turn left and run down wind all the way around the island to Avalon. Much much longer, but since I would be going with the wind and waves rather than against them , it was more possible. I feel like a real wiener-boy saying this but I confess I really couldn’t face another night in Little harbor. If I heard that anchor drag alarm go off one more time tonight I would crack for good. I was at the end of my rope. The Sherriff boat guy, whose name again I never did learn, the hero known only as “Sheriff boat Bravo 187”, said he would be willing to escort me all the way back to Avalon, which I have learned now was about 15 miles. Along with the Baywatch guys Bravo 187 is my new hero. We chugged along by motor at about 5 knots and he stayed right there with me the whole time. It was ultimately to take us 3 hours, and the sun went down in the middle of it. The southern shoreline was every bit as rocky and desolate as the West side, but since we were going with the wind and waves rather than against them somehow it didn’t seem as harsh. We passed Church Rock at the very southeast tip of the island, with its navigation light flashing every 6 seconds to warn us off, right as the sunlight was going out to total black. At that point I could hear, but no longer see, the rocky shoreline to my port side, and I was just following the course marked on my little GPS, and staying close to the flashing blue lights of Bravo 187. I actually did think about letting out some jib sail and letting the wind help me along, after all I was in a sailboat, but the boat was actually pretty hard to control in those conditions as it was and we seemed to be doing OK, so I decided to keep it simple and just kept motoring along. I had filled the gas tank earlier in the day, part of my “get ready for anything” preparations, and normally I would expect to be able to motor for about 1 hour per gallon and I have 6 gallons in one tank, but in these extreme conditions I didn’t know if I was using more gas than normal, so I began to worry that I would run out, probably just as I pulled into Avalon harbor, right? I had plenty on board in spare cans, but to add more to the tank I would need head off shore a ways, pause, refill the tank while pitching about wildly, and then move back along. The tank has a gauge on it that doesn’t really work very well, but I gave it a shake and it seemed to still be about half full, so I was still on track for my “1 gallon per hour” guess. (I made it to Avalon with plenty to spare.) We passed a rock quarry operation along the shore, with several unlit mooring buoys scattered about, and tug boats hauling barges in and about Some of their lights were blinding me but I just hugged the stern of Bravo 187 and we got through without hitting anything.

Finally the lights of Avalon came into view and I radioed Avalon harbor Patrol and asked for a mooring assignment for 2 nights. I said that as dark as it was I would never be able to find the mooring float in the dark but they said no problem, they would meet me at the harbor entrance and escort me to a mooring. I called Bravo 187 and asked if I needed to give him any information about me or fill out any forms or pay anything, and he said “no, happy to help, just have a nice night and be safe!” I thanked him again and off he went. I hope he didn’t have to go all the way back to Cat harbor tonight (but if he did it would probably only take him about 20 minutes if he was not babysitting me!). Words cannot express the respect and admiration and thanks I have for these folks. They are total heroes. The next time you see a cop or a fireman or a Baywatch guy, give them a big collective thanks for me!

Safely in the Avalon harbor, I tied up to the mooring hawser, a big rope loop attached to a 500 pound block of concrete on the bottom of the bay below me that wasn’t going to drag one inch, and for the first time in over a week I fell asleep not worrying about the anchor drag alarm going off or setting the clock to wake me every hour to pop my head for a quick look around. It was total bliss.

This morning I awoke to the sun lighting up the town of Avalon and the bay. It really is a beautiful place. The waterfront is mostly gift shops, galleries and restaurants, all in an older style, with nary a McDonalds golden arch, Payless shoes or Starbucks sign to be seen. (I did see a Vons Market sign though. What is this placing coming to?) The hillsides above are partly covered with houses that look like what I would think an old Greek seaside town would look like, with each house built on the steep hillside above the next, some white stucco, some brightly colored with blue or red or green, and red tile roofs. The hillsides above the houses are a dull green with desert brush and grasses. A carillon bell up on top of the hill chimes every hour, and even the old casino building doesn’t look so ugly and out of place this morning. I tidy the boat for a few hours, pump up the kayak and paddle in. I forgot my wallet so I am not tempted to buy a $3000 bronze sculpture of a mermaid. It is Tuesday, when the giant cruise ship on its way to Ensenada Mexico stops by and the place is pretty busy. There is no wharf big enough for them to tie up to here so it anchors out about half a mile and little shore boat taxis shuttle folks in and out to have lunch, ice cream, stock up on Catalina sweatshirts and straw hats. A guy is playing guitar and sings for the crowds, and a little girl is dancing in the sand next to her mom and dad sunbathing. A very pleasant day. I meet and visit with Larry and Cindy, from Sturgis North Dakota from the cruise boat. Very nice folks, traveling with their daughter and her husband who seem to be having a tiff about something. They too have a dream of selling the bar in Sturgis and getting a sailboat and taking off. “hey Cindy” he says pointing at me “this guy is living our dream!”

I am still trying to figure out what all I learned by this little adventure I have had. I maybe should have stayed on the “safe” side of the island knowing a storm was coming. Once over there, though, I know I should have anchored in Cat harbor instead of Little harbor to wait out the storm. (But Little harbor looked safe. Hmmm) Once I was in the situation, I am still trying to figure out how I could have accomplished getting my anchors reset by myself. Many people cruise in boats alone and seem to figure it out. I still have so much to learn. After watching the Baywatch guys swim around and handle the anchors as they did, I think I could have done it too. I think I could have swam another anchor out to the far side if the bay, use it to winch myself away from the beach, and then set the other 2 anchors in better places. Even though I am also now more confidant in the types of weather conditions my boat can handle, in hindsight I think it would have been more prudent to let the Baywatch guys help me reposition my anchors and stay put. Hind sight eh?

I was telling a buddy tonight that I think the worst part of all this for me at the time was just the NOT KNOWING what to do. In the middle of it, not knowing what would work, what would be possible, what was “best“. I may never know what was best, but it turns out it was all possible, and they all could have worked. I hope to use this experience to avoid being in that situation ever again, but if I do goof, I think I have a much better and stronger experience base to work from. You know what they say about how you get good judgment from experience, and you get that from poor judgment!

Wednesday Nov 10 I came back to Dana today. I got an early start, and motored much of morning. The forecast was for “variable winds in the AM, with West winds in the afternoon.“ Turns out there was no wind for several hours, and when it did pick up it was from the south! I made good time, sailing the last half, and tied up here by 2:30. Big deep breath and a nice rest.