Night watch to San Diego

February 3,2009

Santa Barbara to San Diego, California


We leave the oil rigs of Santa Barbara behind

Zulu motors south. There is no wind. The seas are glass. We leave the oil rigs in our wake. A whale or two spout: A finale to our passage through the Santa Barbara Channel, with the islands of Santa Rosa and Santa Cruz taking bows.

The coast gradually curves in toward the south west as we sail through the San Pedro Channel. We stay close in, changing course to parallel the coast. What are we missing in Santa Monica and Los Angeles? What is behind the ribbon of yellow-gray smog? Three, four, five helium party balloons float by. Russ scoops up Bat Man. We missed the party. Who cares!

We’ll miss Catalina Island because daylight won’t wait until we get to Avalon. On we go southbound. Night falls. A low is in the making. We must beat the rain and wind. Cut through the glass seas under starry skies. The motor purrs. I’ll take the first watch from 8:00 PM.

“The masthead running lights and steaming lights above the lower spreaders are on.” Russ says as he goes below to sleep.

“Wake me if you need me.”

I look up and don’t see red or green anywhere, but take his word. We’re in the shipping lanes. I keep a sharp watch. The dolphins are by my side. I hear their breath and watch them on the port side. They are powerful swimmers and ride the bow wave. Their bodies shine in the moonlight. White bellies. Grey backs with spot markings on their sides.

The Automatic Identification System shows a cluster of ships off Long Beach and Huntington Beach on the MaxSea digital charts. Click on the ship image. Click on Mobile. Read their names and ship specs. I can tell how many nautical miles they are away from us. Click, click they move toward or away from us. I see one close by on the chart. But out on deck I don’t see it. Up and down the companion way I go checking the distance. Up again on deck. There it is! As big as a jolly island alight. All this time I thought it was part of the mainland!

Hmmmm here comes another one. Too close. It is coming in from sea toward Huntington Beach. I’ll keep going. No. Time to change course. 14 notches to port. It passes on my starboard quarter. A monster ship. Ships all around in the night. Then into the quieter waters off the coast of Newport Beach and into the Gulf of Santa Catalina we motor. It is nearly 1:00 AM. I’ll go another hour so Russ can sleep, ready for San Diego in the morning light. I’ll study the charts. Make hot tea. I’m getting numb with fatigue. BLAM!!!!

The prop we use to hold the navigation bunk pillow up for getting better air circulation into the refrigeration motor falls.

“Jesus Christ!” Russ yells as he shoots out from under the covers behind the lee cloth in a state of stark nakedness. Head out the hatch as if the Titanic has just hit the iceberg.

“What’s going on!!!!!”

“It’s OK. It’s OK. The prop for the cushion just fell.” I say in my calmest voice. I laugh at the comic figure he cuts. That will teach the Captain a lesson not to sleep without a “uniform” on.

In a sleep walk, he goes back to sleep until I wake him at 2:00 AM. We are abreast of La Jolla.

“Your watch Russ.” I whisper into his ear.

I crawl into the feathers behind the lee cloth semi-clad for comfort and fall into a deep sleep for an hour. There are voices in the cockpit! What is going on!!!?

Russ peers at a dark shadow to port. Suddenly the running lights of a black rubber zodiac come on and he is blinded by a spotlight shone in his face.

“Coast Guard boarding.”

“What the hell is going on Russ?” I am scared and startled and hear footsteps running up the port side.

I jump out of my feathers and start putting my pants on when I see the young man with wool hat and red-orange foul weather gear peering down at me from the cockpit shadows.

“I’m trying to put my jolly pants on!!!” I yell at him as he retracts.

“You’re scaring the bloody dickens out of me. What do you want?”

“Ma’m I’m just checking your vessel’s documents,” the young man gently states, petrified this crazy lady might lob a sweet onion at his head. Definitely no drugs on board this boat. Maybe there should be. Maybe the lady could do well with some valium: I imagine him thinking.

No sooner on board, they left after checking the running lights. Russ had put the anchor light on instead of the running lights. No wonder I never saw red or green. What did the big oncoming ship in the night think? Is this fool boat dragging anchor?

Daylight dawns and Russ calls. We are rounding Pt. Loma. I sleepily emerge on deck. A warship is astern. Make way. After you Sir! Into the bay. The night watch to San Diego has ended.We have arrived. Check in and moore at Shelter Island.

I put on Dance of the Celts……….

We stopped for a sundowner near the Coronado hotel.

“That is Mexico.” Russ points to the Coronado Islands, to the lights of Tijuana in the distance.

So close! I get butterflies. It beckons. The wind blows. There is no turning back. We will cut the umbilical chord Monday, February 16 and cross over, beyond El Norte. Time and whim will dictate direction: (1) either into the Sea of Cortez and down the Mexican mainland to Costa Rica, Panama, Ecuador and west to the Galapagos and Marquesas OR (2) fast track it leaving Costa Rica in April for the Galapagos and Marquesas. We’ll throw the dice with time and read the numbers. I will write and post more lines later.

Until then, I go to sleep at night thinking of dear friends Heike and Johnny in Sweden who lost their brother, Kjell and Jacky’s son Danny and Sheena, who lost their baby girl Sienna, and Kelly, Sarah’s friend, who lost her precious mother Rose. Peace be with their souls. Life is transient. Live it now.

My heart wrenches at saying goodbye to loved ones: leaving them behind, shutting down the cell phone. To those close to us in heart and mind, we’re thinking of you with more love as the nautical miles between us lengthen or shorten relative to you.

Stay well. Lots of love. Lots of laughter.