Log:
October, 2003
October, 2003
lunch
Compass course 130 SE, the California coastline lie 10 miles to my starboard side and the shipping channel was 3 miles to my port side. Haltered to the steel lifelines, I could occasionally attach the auto-pilot (a bungee cord to the steering wheel-a very low tech solution, but viable) to the wheel and gaze out the stern into the Milky Way. It was a spectacular night. I steered to Orion with his bow pointing the way.
My mind wandered to the enchantment that intrigues astronomers. Dark skies and a galaxy of unknowns, now where is the planetary system-KPAX? I listened to tunes from Cowboy Junkies and sang my heart out.
"The sky as still as a spinning top shooting stars drop like burning words from above. If I could just connect all these dots The truth would tumble like a Cynic vexed by love.
And yet people keep saying I'm miles from my home, Miles from my home."
When the Captain came up for his watch, "Not much to report, sighting of a cruise ship, cargo ship and a sailboat going north". At our back was a sailboat heading south, but quite far from us, closer to the coast than we prefer. John reminded me to error to the west, rather head towards Hawaii than the rocks. The girls sleep comfortably in their bunks.
The Captain's watch became 6 hours long, as I forgot to set the alarm as I slept until dawn. The benefit for him was he was able to watch sunrise. He looked more tired than he felt, but I noticed it didn't take him long to settle into a deep sleep. Luckily, he keep one eye open and watch from the pilot berth to the GPS and see how well I'm tracking an the boat without rising from pilot berth. Great to have good vision and everything set up so well that the Captain is always tuned into the crew. The pilot berth will fit anyone 6'10".
The morning was clear and again, calm. As we passed San Simeon, we needed to decide if we were going to stop into Port San Luis or keep going for another night. We were still motoring and the prospect of getting to the Channel Islands National Park, with its warmer weather and beautiful anchorages among the seven islands? Thinking forward, we were encouraged to keep going.
During the day shift we had shared our thoughts and feelings of the last month. John still held some doubts about the voyage and after I fell sick the night before, he really wondered if we should go find that patch of lawn and give it all up. I, on the other hand, felt too invested in this journey to give up. I don't have as many doubts, could be naïveté but, more likely it is just that the alternative of a day desk job and living in the suburb is not an attractive alternative to me at this time in my life. In any case, we had a familiar and wonderful time, sitting in the cockpit out in the middle of the ocean, talking, sharing and supporting each other. Connecting and conversing without those "business like tones or those romantic overtures, reminded us of why we enjoy each other's company. After all the months, actually years, of often independent focus on the preparations for the journey and our mutual commitment to the dream, we felt a bit in awe that we were actually living the dream.
Nightfall meant another night of stew and rice. "What's for dinner?" "Stew" " Oh, ok" said the girls. "Can we have a bag of M & M's to go with 'em?" Simple meals that stick to our guts are what we needed, and for me that meant a large pot of rice, my comfort food. We returned to our watch schedule. I retired to the pilot berth. The girls played a game of Oceanopoly and nibbled on M & M's. We find ourselves surprised and pleased with the enthusiasm and ease to which the girls are adjusting to the lifestyle. They seem to just flow with the routine, getting ready for bed and keeping their rooms tidy while under sail is no big deal.
I can report, that with over 500 books, 150 beany babies, 100 DVDs and a cabinet of games, we've had no propelling "stuff" while under sail. This was a big concern of the Captain. "It is not safe to have all this "stuff" on board, not to mention what the weigh will do to the speed of the boat." The bookshelves built by Job & Huib and the bungee cords are doing their job well. Huib would be pleased to know that my custom shoe closet, now holds 21 pairs of shoes. Yes, I'm still buying shoes; an addiction that has changed only slightly, from Ferragamo's to Teva's. We are secure within the boat and happy with our "stuff" and the boat's performance...well, it ain't to shabby to be getting 8 knots on a downwind sail of the California coast with full jib and main sail.
John came on watch at 3am. I felt so good, that the four hour watch seemed SHORT!!! Ah, the miracles of drug, were working!!! John had a spectacular night of bow watching with the dolphins that swam along side Encanto. As the dolphins darted and played, they created green phosphorous streaks of light, shooting in and out of the darkness among the ocean waves. John wondered if he should wake the girls, but he resisted. There will be a next time. By dawn we were within an hour of San Miguel Island, the first of the seven Channel Islands National Park.
encanto in monterey
The geese are flying south. Everyday, John sees boats leaving the anchorage and he is getting anxious. We will leave Monterey on Wednesday. We will miss Pacific Grove (great small town) and Ann. Ann has been incredibly open, loving and generous, as she can be.
Learning the craft of sewing was fun the first day. I had visions of sewing wardrobes and bags. Do they sew shoes?
We finished the Lee Cloths.
Over the next days we ran around getting more tools and gear to make the cutting of the sunbrella go easier and that was tiring, but ok. /we started to get to know the qualities of sunbrella.
We started the mattress covers. By mid week, we learned how sunbrella unravels, the zippers are very sturdy and thick, the material doesn't easily lie straight, and the two of them (sunbrella and zippers) bunch when sewn. Pressing seams reminds me of my childhood and my heritage. The Chinatown sweatshops and my grandfather's first job as an immigrant from China. The pins we use are his. I am caught between a flash back and the need to concentrate on sewing straight and pulling the fabric so it won't bunch with the zipper. I'd rather day dream, but concentration is required.
I flashed back to when I was 10 or 11; I had to rip out seam after seam when it just wasn't perfect. Precision, perfection, a beautiful product...remind me that is the goal. An artist and a craftsman, pays attention to every detail.
Ah, now I remember why I didn't like sewing. It requires precision, requires more concentration than I prefer.
In his support of my way, John shares the learning curve he went through to learn how to weld and working with steel. Encanto is made of steel. Essential that he learn this craft. Essential if through-holes were to be installed and wind generators were to be securely fastened on the stern. Essentially that he learn this craft and learn it well....Precision has its place, especially if we want the function to work to severe conditions, so it ain't always for beauty. Whether it be a steel platform or a YKK zipper, it all gotta perform, and perform well.
Morning. I'll give it another try, having learned a little more about sewing, the fabric, the tools and me. A reminder, yet again, that frustration is part of the learning curve. I tell the kids this. Now, I must remind myself.
A pot of soup brews, anticipation of warmth to my tummy. Enya fills my ears. I look up, to see the ocean and hear the seals. I am in California on a beautiful day.
Ann will be back in the late afternoon, so my time is my own. She is a good teacher with high standards and I appreciate her patience with my preference for the short cuts and speed rather than quality. Paying attention to the quality in life, in my daily life, is conscious living. Is it not?
John is teaching the girls on board;a switch in our roles. He is having a good time, long overdue. His work on the boat took him away from the family for a year, now he is enjoying that attention. They played a great game Oceanopoly where Sami was a millionaire and Gaby was in debt and mortgaging everything, just to stay in the game. I understand that their giggles rippled over the Monterey bay, playful as the stars and moon as it rose above Santa Cruz.
We will all reunite, Ann and the Amberchan's, for a farewell meal at The White House in Pacific Grove.
Pacific Grove is close to being the most perfect small town with just enough elegance and posh and lots of caring people. People remember our names in the Post Office, Stationary store, and of course the sewing store. It is nice to be able to walk to the ocean and the town center. Walk, no car necessary. A the pace is more to my heart. We now know why Ann lives here and her love for Pacific Grove. We love being with Ann and her hometown. We are grateful.
Too bad the real estate prices are beyond our means. We will continue our search...Ah, our search for the perfect small town, as we tour the world.
We watched as the ghost of Justin Marie dragged towards shore. The anchorage was as rolly as the open seas. Clutching my blankey, pillow and favorite retching bowl, I listened to the heavy, strong, determined footsteps of my Captain as he ambled up the steps to the cockpit. I could feel his watchful mind preparing for all encounters.
An anchor dragging has so much to tell. Every sailor has a favorite tale of anchors set and anchors drug. Was it set correctly, did the physics of the angle of repose set, Was the weight of chain on the sea floor sufficient to hold the hull above? Roll as we did, it was not clear what caused Justin Marie to drag.
Miss Moon was rising in the sky. She sneaked peaks as the gray fog and clouds filled the mystery of nightfall. At one point when I surfaced to look, I saw her beckoning the Justin Marie to join her on shore, like a siren, she had all her forces aligned; winds, tides and night's darkness working on her command. Justin Marie so small and so easily swayed.
She moved slowly, giving us enough time to worry. Neighboring boat, Phaedra hailed the neighborhood watch. He holds a calm voice, this Captain of Phaedra. He, like we, watched protectively over our homes. He confidently converses with one and then another of us. Finally, after an anchor watch of an hour, Phaedra hailed the Harbormaster to warn of Justin Marie's fate. She had dragged passed us all, about 300 feet, on her way to the south shore of Monterey Bay.
Then we all waited. Waiting is like breathing. Waiting for the United States Coast Guard to come. They determine the fate of the Justin Marie.
Another hour passes, or was it two? We, four, sit in the cockpit, life jacket upon our shoulders. Circling the Justin Marie is the Coast Guard, round and round. Seas are choppy and rolly, dark seas and skies; it is nightfall. A spotlight shines stead and intently, as intent as we watch, a mere 100 feet away.
Miss Moon dances with the clouds, fancing the tide to the wind, changing partners as she moves to make boarding Justin Marie difficult for the Guards. Circling the Justin Marie is the Guard, round and round. Reaching her is tough. Finally, a tow rope attached and the Justin Marie is pulled clear of Miss Moon. The Guards, drag her pass the sailing vessels: Anjuli, Sweet Witch, Encanto and Phaedra.
For the moment we are safe. The chill of a long night still hung. Should we anticipate more from Miss Moon? We roll and joggled back and forth. Miss Moon was not happy as her conquest disappeared with the Guard.
She would try again, this time with the vessel, Sweet Witch. Sweet Witch, her enchanting black aluminum hull begins to drift. Temptation. Drifting she comes within ten feet of Encanto. My good Captain standing watch, starts our engine, readys us for the stance. You-Us, Aluminum or Steel. Hull to hull.
Protocol, as we know it. First at anchorage, last to pull anchor. We were here first. Our anchor has held for a week. She who drifts should move, however, not all sailors read from the same verse and psalm. What will she do? What can she do?
Our engine roars, chest beating. My Captain at the helm.
I rose my head from my radio watch position in the corner sette. The girls stirred in their bunks. We waited, as if at a dual; for the flag to drop. My Captain's heavy feet stomped on deck. Momentary silence.
An engine roars back. Chain clattering on deck and an anchor dangles off their bow sprite. Sweet Witch was off, to the patch of light, where Miss Moon shone. We are clear of danger. What fate might be brought to them? What fate might be brought to them?
Then just as suddenly as the drift that sent them to us, the winds shifted, the seas calmed and the clouds broke into a star filled sky.
Miss Moon ascended to a tight spot above the groves, now distracted to the lands and the wolves of the forests, where her lore at full splendor is known.
anchor rode
Content with what he sees, My Captain called it a night; a "Goodnight" for all, even the Justin Marie. Though a mire stint from sunset to midnight, it felt like a very long night. We were weary and ready for sleep. Later, we would learn that on Sweet Witch they stay up on anchor-watch until dawn, unsure if they were next on Miss Moon's dance card.
My Captain, came to bed. We slept cuddled and nestled with each other, an ear to the sea and a sense of the roll on our hips as the hull swayed with the waves; ever aware of Miss Moon and her seductive desires.
By light of day, all was calm. All was well.