San Simeon or Bust!

It was one of those classic days from everyone's childhood memories, warm and sunny, baby blue sky with a scattering of cotton balls as far as the eye could see. Except also with a dash of wind, to make it a true sailor's delight of a day. The forecast had said it would be too light, but it was just right. As I inched my way up the mast in my climbing harness for a final check of the rigging, I chided myself for not having taken care of all these last minute tasks sooner. The boat wouldn't be ready until tomorrow, and I was missing the start of the good weather window.

At the top of the mast, I finished checking the fittings and looked down. Hmm, I thought. Maybe I should have rigged that safety line after all. Jean-Michelle, the French representative in Moss Landing, was standing on the dock next to Cadence, looking up, shouting something and gesturing with his arms, but I couldn't quite make it out over the wind. He looked quite tiny down there. Somehow, we agreed to postpone our conversation to a more, er, convenient time.

Dressed up in my foul-weather gear and all by my lonesome, I finally left the dock at four o'clock the next afternoon, April 26th, and set off into a cool 15 knot headwind, beating southwest toward Monterey. Just before rounding Pacific Grove around seven o'clock, the wind was upwards of 20kts, 25 apparent (from sailing into the wind at ~5½ knots), and I put the third reef in the mainsail. Just as I got back to the cockpit, an adult humpback breached full out of the water not even 100 yards dead ahead and plunged beneath the waves, fluke held high. A thrilling sight to behold, but alarming as well. How many more were with him, concealed by the 6 foot whitecaps all around? Another two water spouts told me he was not alone, and 'boat meets whale' is never a good scenario for either of the parties involved, so I immediately altered course. Thankfully that was the last I saw of whales for the night.

Four miles south of Carmel I was becalmed in a tossing sea, despite a consistent 20kts of wind all along the coast, according the the buoy reports. Tossing sea quickly led to a tossing tummy and the temptation of the Stillwater Cove anchorage in Carmel was hard to resist, but I hardened my resolve, started the motor and swung the bow southward. 20 minutes later the wind returned, in spades.

Seasickness has a way of sapping one's desire to live, turning a casual day sail into an ordeal to be survived, and a prudent sailor into a careless slob. I managed to get down a couple of tins of fruit, but my appetite was fickle at best. Nonetheless, there's always work to be done on a boat, especially during a shakedown sail and, sick or not, you've gotta man-up and do it. Cruising at 6½ knots with bursts to 9 down waves, it was a sleigh ride under jib alone, until the wind lightened around daybreak. I put up the light wind genoa for a few hours and bagged a golden hour of sleep until the wind returned for the finale, a good 18 knots of wind which took me right around Point Piedras Blancas and into the anchorage at San Simeon. Dropping the hook in the sheltered sandy cove around 3pm, my hunger came on with a vengeance, and mac and cheese never tasted so good as it did that afternoon.

Point Piedras Blancas, a.k.a. Dodoo Rock

(Not quite as grand as I'd imagined)

Rubbing the sleepers from my eyes, I awoke from my nap to see the evening stars twinkling bright through the open hatch. Outside, the steam from my tea rising to the heavens, I looked up at the soft white arc of the milky way splashed across the sky with no orange city glow to drown it out. Silhouetted against all that stellar splendor, Cadence's mast looked very small by comparison, very small indeed.