I slipped the buoy at sunrise in Morrow Bay. It was of course overcast and chilly, the same as it had been every day except the one sunny day I was in port in Monterey. This is one of the moments that I love, however, leaving a port early in the morning at sunrise. There are very few people around, perhaps a few fishermen, and it is normally quiet and calm. I was lucky in that the current was slack, so getting underway from the buoy was easy, and I was quietly gliding down the river toward the sea and Point Conception. There were blue herons and white egrets in the early morning hunting for fish and once again nature was in all her glory.
Once again there was very little wind. I raised the sails, however as Point Conception was ahead I put two reefs in the main, but did raise the mizzen and let out the jib. I was ready. Or so I thought.
At about 8:30 in the morning as I was clear of Morrow Bay and about eight miles off shore I had my first whale sighting! Spectacular! I was sailing along and suddenly this huge glack and white fin comes out of the water off my bow and this monstrous creature appears. He or she was at least as big as Astraea, probably much larger, and it was a bit frightening but even more exciting. I have always wondered how people could slaughter these beautiful creatures. However as I watched the whale with total awe I could not help but think that once in a great while a large whale takes a dislike to a sailboat and will attack it, often sinking it. Fortunately this whale seemed to be in a better mood than that and was just enjoying it's day.
There was a GREAT BIG WHALE here just a moment ago.
The seas were on my beam with large swells and Astraea was rolling much more than usual. I was glad that I had been spending a lot of time in stowing everything away securely, however there were still a few bangs and crashes coming from below. Hopefully nothing important.
It was cold. Very cold. Overcast. However there is no rain today nor is any forecasted. Hopefully this forecast would hold out and this would be my first day of this voyage without rain while underway. I was so looking forward to Southern California!
There was not much wind, so cranked the engine up to about 2200 rpm to give us enough speed to pass Point Arguello by 3pm. The area between Arguello and Conception is where all hell normally breaks loose.
We passed Point Arguello and it was not so bad. There was maybe five knots of wind and we were actually motor sailing. However over a period of about half an hour all that changed and the wind started howling and in no time was at least 25 knots from the port quarter. Now a broad reach, or having the wind on the rear quarter of the boat, provides good speed, but is dangerous as if one does not carefully control the course of the boat the stern can move through the wind and the wind is then on the opposite quarter and, bang, the main boom goes flying across the cockpit and can actually break the boom and the controls that handle the main boom. This can be very very bad. Of course, being a fully fitted out boat, I have the latest boom brake technology to slow the movement of the boom when doing an "accidental jibe", or even intentionally jibing, however I had forgotten to rig it. Too late now. We were flying along at over eight knots, the wind howling in the rigging, Astraea was heeling at least 30 degrees and the water was almost up to the toe rails (the uppermost sides of the boat). The rule here is to let out some main sail to slow down the boat, but I was clutching the helm and it was taking all my concentration to keep Astraea on course and not jibe her in these heavy winds. What was making matters even more difficult was that the waters had become like a washing machine, with huge waves breaking all around us, mostly from astern, which was throwing our stern from side to side and making it even more difficult to control Astraea and keep her on a safe course. All hell had broken loose. The adreneline was flowing, and I was calling on all of my sailing experience and instruction, but I could not help also thinking "what the hell have I gotten myself into?"
This is one of those situations where the new solo sailor looks around and says, "I am on my own". There was nobody to help me. Nobody but Astraea. She is a great boat, and I knew that she could easily handle this if I could. I was determined to get us through this safely.
We rounded Point Conception at 8.5 knots under sail, two reefs, mizzen (which was not a good idea, but too late to take it down), and full jib. From the sailing guide I knew that there was a sheltered beach area just a few miles past Point Conception where I could anchor for the night and get out of the fierce NW winds. This anchorage, called Cojo anchorage, has been known since whaling days and is used for people to wait for the weather to be acceptable to go North, or for people to rest after coming South. I needed a place to rest. I was beat, and I did not want to sail another six hours to Santa Barbara, the nearest port, and enter there at night. I decided to turn into the shore and find this obscure anchorage.
Now this is totally against common sense, to turn toward the shore, now with 25+ knots of wind on the beam, and head at full speed toward sheer cliffs and crashing surf. It did not make sense, however logically I knew this was what I had to do. The sheltered anchorage was in there. Somewhere. The cruising guide said to look for a railroad embankment and the center of the anchorage was directly in line with a large culvert that ran under the railroad embankment. Well, what the guide does not tell one is that one has to be VERY close to the shore to FIND the damn railroad embankment. Fortunately as I was moving toward shore at full speed a large silver train passed down the coast. The gods were with me! I was able to see where it passed across the embankment and then disappeared into a tunnel. I headed for the shore with my heart pounding and my mouth as dry as cotton. If I screwed up I would find my boat and myself on the pounding surf under a huge cliff.
As I approached the shore there were no other sail boats there. This of course made me wonder, "is this the right railroad embankment"? After all the damn train runs all the way down the coast. However there was one large commercial ship at a mooring buy near the shore. I turned into the wind, turned on the auto pilot, and wrestled down the three sails that were luffing (flapping) noisily. With the engine on I headed toward the shore and what was, hopefully, the Cojo anchorage.
I had prepared my anchor for letting go, and as I was about 200 yards from the shore I put the boat into neutral and ran forward to drop the anchor. Now 200 yards sounds like a long ways. If one is running down two football fields it is a long ways. If one is heading toward a crashing surf at the base of 200 foot cliffs it is not very far at all. I let go the anchor brake and the anchor started to fall and then - CLUNK. It stopped. With about 20 feet of anchor chain and my large CQR anchor out it just stopped. The water was 30 feet deep, so this was going to do me NO good. I was just dangling a lot of chain and anchor into the water. I tried to pull up on the anchor chain to pull it up the hawse pipe and out of the chain locker, but it would not budge. Something was wrong down below in the chain locker. I ran frantically to the cockpit, then down into the boat, and forward to the anchor locker, which is forward of the v-berth inside the boat. The anchor chain was in a huge knot inside the anchor locker. Now when one has a bunch of line, or "rope", in a knot, it is usually a matter of working with it. This is not as easy with heavy (3/8" inch) steel chain. I dragged a huge ball of fouled chain out of the chain locker and onto the deck of the v-berth and stared at it. What the hell to do now? How am I going to untangle this mess!
I realized I had better run topside and see what was happening. Forunately the wind was blowing me away from the shore, but it was also blowing me directly toward the anchored commercial vessel. I engaged the engine and gave her full throttle to move away from the commercial ship and toward the pounding surf, with my anchor and 25 feet of chain hanging off the bow. Also, this is an area of lots of kelp. Kelp is huge thick globs of sea grass that grows from the ocean floor and is good stuff in that fish eat it. Kelp is bad stuff in that it can wrap around propellers and get sucked up into the cooling water system for the engine and cause the engine to stop. This was NOT a time to loose the engine. There was some lee due to the protection of Point Conception, but there was still a good 20 knots, even in the sheltered anchorage. (Sheltered is a relative term).
Lesson learned. When going into a dangerous anchorage have a second anchor on deck and ready to let go. After getting Astrea back closer to shore and away from the anchored commercial ship I frantically dug into the starboard locker in the cockpit and dragged out a smaller anchor and 200 feet of chain and rode (thick nylon rope) that is used as a second anchor or as a stern anchor (I have aboard a total of four anchors). I dragged the anchor to the bow, bent on the anchor chain and rode, and threw it over the bow. Of course the rode then jammed in a knot and was tangled on the bow as I had not laid out the line properly for it to feed over the side. With tremendous exertion and some luck I was able to get the anchor rode untangled, and the second anchor grabbed and the anchor line tightened and we were holding. Yeah!!!! Now it was time to try to get the primary anchor out. I ran below and dragged about 50 feet of anchor chain into the main salon of the boat and was able to get it untangled. I then ran topside and was able to feed out the main anchor and 150 feet of heavy anchor chain. We were now anchored with two anchors and we did not appear to be dragging. About 200 yards ahead the surf was pounding, almost as hard as my heart was pounding! The sun was setting. The wind was blowing. It was cold. I sat there on the bow, my chest heaving, my mouth as dry as cotton, my legs weak, and I thought of my cardiac surgeon who did my bypass about eight years ago. I think we just tested out her work, big time, and I felt that it was holding. I could not remember the last time that I had put such a physical demand on my body. I vowed that I was going to learn how to do things better and try to not get myself into a dangerous situation like this again.
It was a long night. I put the GPS on anchor watch, which would alert me if the boat dragged anchor, ie moved from her anchored position. The wind was still howling and the current was strong, but I had two anchors down. I set my alarm clock for an hour and slept. I checked the anchor, the weather, the GPS, reset the alarm, and slept another hour. I woke up every hour through the night to ensure that Astraea was safe. It was a VERY long night.
In the early morning at first light we weighed both anchors and headed for our next port. Point Conception was astern as we headed toward the Santa Barbara channel.
Looking toward Cojo anchorage. Not an easy place to find.
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