Road and Ocean

On passage with Rafiki

November 17, 2014December 6, 2016 Chris TannerLeave a comment

Bahia Santa Maria to Puerto Los Cabos
195 miles, 33 hours

0400 Wake up. Dead calm. Don’t want to get up. Do we HAVE to leave now? I left my alarm on the chart table so I’d have to actually get up and turn it off – thinking that once I was out of bed it would be easier to stay out. Wrong. Straight back under the covers and I’m asleep again. It’s so peaceful, the only noise is the sound of the surf on the beach in the distance.

0530 Wake up again, the boat is rolling a tiny bit. Poke my head up through the hatch – there’s still no wind, but now I’m awake and we really should push off. I slip some shorts and a tee shirt on, and flick on a bunch of switches on the dash. VHF radio and instruments for the boat, water pump and gas for a cup of coffee for me.

0545 Anchor up and we’re off. I turn the anchor light off, and the masthead tri-colour on. Looking up to see if it’s working, I see the bright half-moon sat on the top of the mast.

0600 Spent half an hour trying to get my laptop working properly. It boots OK, but shortly after startup the touchpad stops working. Fortunately I can still find my way around using keyboard shortcuts, and finally once I’ve uninstalled and re-installed the touchpad driver, we’re back in action. While I’m sorting the computer out, we pass a couple of fishing trawlers, creeping slowly along hauling their nets behind them. At first I’m not sure if they are anchored or moving, I can’t assume they are showing the right lights or shapes to indicate what they are up to. Gradually we get close enough for me to see the towing lines in the half-light through the binoculars, so I steer clear and pass them with plenty of room.

0650 Feel a breeze coming from the land, is it strong enough to sail? This is a sailing boat, gotta try and sail. Optimistically take the sail ties off the mainsail, but have second thoughts before raising it. Having the main up when there’s not enough wind just means that it flaps and slams around, which is noisy, tiring and doesn’t do the sail any good at all. The numbers on the display say the wind is between 5 and 10 knots – really not enough to sail. Sometimes we put the main up just to stabilise the boat, to stop it rolling, like a fin in the sky, but it’s not too rolly at the moment. Rose is still asleep in the vee berth in the bow, I figure she’s comfy enough, I’ll leave the sail for now.

0710 The first gallon of water is spilling over in the galley sink. When we have the engine on for any long period of time, we run the watermaker to top up our tanks. So far we’ve not used the tanks much, we’ve been motoring so much and have been refilling a load of plastic bottles and putting them back in the fridge. We both had showers last night and used a good few gallons then, so I’ll keep the water coming as long as we have the motor on, transferring a gallon at a time into the stern tank under the berth in the aft cabin. Making 3 gallons an hour, I have to remember to go and get the water every 20 minutes.

0720 Mainsail is up. Breeze has increased now, showing between ten and fifteen knots. Yup, we’re sailing! Time to get the jib out and hopefully turn the engine off. We’ve got just under 200 miles to San Jose del Cabo, which at 5 knots will take us about 40 hours. It’s early on Friday morning now. Rafiki doesn’t do more than 4.7 knots with the engine running, unless I really crank the revs up, so we need wind to make it into port before midnight on Saturday.

0730 The jib is out, but even with the engine on we’re only just making over 5 knots. I throttle back a little to see if the engine’s actually making any difference – yep, it is, so we’ll leave it on. If we didn’t have a schedule and could spend a week drifting down the coast, I might turn it off and just go with the wind, but with Dan and Mel turning up in 3 days, we need to get a wriggle on. I look up and spot a couple of buoys off to starboard, and realise I’d completely forgotten to keep an eye out for fishing floats! We really don’t want to run into a net or a line and get tangled up. Fortunately, I’ve never run into lines at sea. Rafiki has a deep fin rudder that would probably catch on anything we sailed over, so we need to be vigilant. If the engine’s on then the propeller is spinning, which makes it potentially much worse. I really don’t want to have to go over the side and sort out a tangled prop. When it’s dark, there’s not much you can do – you just take your chances and trust in lady luck, but when it’s light and the seas are calm, there’s no excuse. Slap on the wrist.

0750 Checked emails via the sat phone. Just one – a reply from the office with guidance as to what to work on next. I’ll get down to some coding after breakfast.

0800 One of the trawlers we passed earlier is overtaking us to port, between us and the land which is now a couple of miles away. Barra de Pacifico II is the name painted in old Spanish style script on the bow. It’s got its nets hauled up, looks like they are ready to pull in the catch. Sitting in the rigging are perhaps fifty big, black birds. Every now and then one has a flap around and I think I recognise them as frigate birds. Long, slender wings and a distinctive long forked tail. Looks like a couple of pelicans hitching a ride too. Wind has dropped off to almost nothing, so I’ve rolled the jib away. The main isn’t so easy to drop and hoist, so it’s still up – I’ve rigged a preventer line from the boom forward down to a strong point at the base of the shrouds to stop it flapping around too much. Even the slightest roll of the boat is enough to get the sail flogging back and forth. Each time it comes to the end of its flap there’s a strong tug, so the idea is to stop it flapping as much as I can. Since it’s been calm for most of the night, there’s hardly any swell, so the rolling isn’t so bad. A few days ago, between Ensenada and Turtle Bay, we had a load of wind, generating swell, which then dropped off leaving us just wallowing around. Had to take the main down then as it was really tugging hard.

0850 Splash! “Wooooooah, Rose, look at that!” Off in the distance a whale is breaching, powering itself up out of the water, arching over onto its back and crashing back down into the sea. We watch it for half an hour as it works its way towards us, but it’s still a long way away. Maybe a humpback? I’m not a whale expert, and you only get to see a small part of it at a time. Small dorsal, white patches on the underside of the tail, sharpish head…. Checking the guide to Pacific sea mammals, it could be almost any of them. Our best whale sighting so far! Still no wind … chug chug chug.

0945 Crossing the entrance to Bahia Magdalena (“Mag Bay”), we get a breeze from the east. Enough to get the engine off and cruise along nicely at 5 knots or so. Hopefully this will keep up and it’s not just wind coming off the bay.

0950 Without the clanking of the engine, it’s possible to hear all the other boat noises. There’s a new “click” coming from the stern area. Every new noise needs to be checked out, to make sure it’s not the start of a problem that’s going to become more serious. Maybe it’s the autopilot – since I fitted a new tiller arm in Ensenada I’ve been keeping a close eye on it, but so far everything has been spot on. I pull a bucket, line and fenders out of the cockpit locker so I can crawl back into the transom cavity and take a look. With a torch, I watch it move back and forth for a while. There’s a tiny bit of play in the joints, but nothing new, and nothing noisy. All OK. Coming back on deck I realise that the sound is coming from the open water tank filler! Since we put a few extra gallons in, the surface of the water must be slapping the bottom of the tank. Reminds me to put the cap back on the filler.

1010 It was just wind coming off the bay. We slow down as we pass the southern point, speed down to just 2 and a half knots. At this pace, we could walk to San Jose in the same time, and it slips our ETA back to Sunday night. No Bueno. Engine back on. We’ve got enough fuel to motor all the way to San Jose if we have to – I bought a 40 litre / 10 gallon tank from a guy in Turtle Bay to add to the couple of smaller cans I bought in the USA. So we have 40 gallons on board, enough for 70 to 80 hours of motoring, which at 4.5 knots would take us over 350 miles. Rose comes on deck with a bag of wool and a look of determination. Knitting time!

1050 Wind fills the sails, and we start to nudge 6 knots. Time to get the engine off again. The apparent wind, the wind we feel over the deck regardless of what the true wind is doing, is about 12 knots. It’s that magic 10 knots that Rafiki needs to get sailing over 5 knots. I’m busy on the computer writing up a “man overboard” process. If the worst should happen and I go over the side, crew need clear instructions. We haven’t done any drills yet, which I feel pretty bad about. The excuse is that we’ve been pushing hard to get south – a lot of sailing, so each time we come into port or anchor we just need to rest.

1130 MAN OVERBOARD! I waited for Rose to finish a line of knitting, and then launched a fender over the side. Rose furled the jib, got the engine on and then I spotted a fishing trawler coming full pace at us not more than half a mile dead ahead. She spun the boat around, we motored upwind and picked up the fender pronto, avoiding getting caught in the fishing boat’s nets. Good drill. Easy conditions this time. Next time I’ll throw a fender when we’re going a bit faster and the sea is a bit rougher. And I’ll try to time my “fall overboard” to be at the end of a line of knitting. The wind has backed to northwest, which is the direction it’s generally been coming from over the last few days, when we’ve had wind at all. Still not strong, but enough to coax us along. I’ve poled the jib out to port, the opposite side of the boat from the main sail. Was tempted to put the spinnaker up – we’ve only just got ten knots of wind and it’s almost dead astern. I got it up on deck and then decided against it – hoping the wind will pick up to power us along with just the jib. So far, it’s not looking promising. At least the pole is up, ready for the spinnaker, if I change my mind.

It’s another cloudy day. Light grey, clumpy clouds covering the sky all the way from the land in the east to beyond the western horizon. Over the Baja peninsula is clear sky, with a small cloud bank lining the peaks. The clouds don’t look menacing, or indicate that the weather is going to change. Enough to keep the direct sun off though which means it’s not too hot. However, if the diurnal wind cycle needs the heat, I’d rather they burnt away and we got some breeze.

1215 We pass a blue hulled yacht motoring north, passing between us and the dry, barren land. Rose reckons it’s a bit bigger than Rafiki. It’s moving pretty quickly, better than we could do into the wind with our pathetic little folding propeller. Through the binoculars I can see a couple of people on deck. I wonder what their story is. There’s not much between here and the southern tip of the peninsula, so they will have left Cabo a couple of days ago, motoring nonstop into the wind and waves. Not much fun. I’m guessing they are taking the boat back north to the USA – a long way away. We’re definitely going in the better direction with the wind behind us. I think the day’s breeze has set in now; we’re regularly clocking over 6 knots and the water is fizzing around the boat. 6 knots is still less than ten miles an hour on land; a reasonable cruising speed on a push-bike, yet out here on the surface of the water it seems a lot more. After a while, it’s easy to tell the difference between four and six knots just by the sound of the water. At four knots, we still have another 42 hours to go. At six, that comes right down to 28. I’ve extended the spinnaker pole to its “spinnaker” length today in an attempt to catch more wind. So far, we’ve been poling the jib out without extending the pole. Hard to say whether it makes a difference without doing a side-by-side comparison, just like so many other aspects of sail trim – you know the theory, you make a tweak, and hope you’re going faster because of the change you made, rather than just a change in the wind. Rose is putting balls of fresh dough in a tray ready to go into the oven. It’s gonna be smelling gooooood soon!

1320 Mmm. Tasty lunch of fresh rolls, ham and Branston Pickle. Quick call to Dan to make sure he’d received info that we’re not going to be able to make it all the way round to La Paz for their arrival on Monday. They’ll come down on the bus. Music on, sun out, wind pushing us along at a decent pace, all is good. I feel like I should get some sleep before tonight’s watches, but I’m not tired and slept well last night. Will get down to some work instead.

1530 I’m getting on with some work below, Rose is on watch. It’s starting to get a little rolly as the wind builds the seas up. We’ve had to alter course off to port by more than ten degrees as the wind has backed. Rose gives me a shout. The jib is starting to flap again, in the wind shadow behind the main sail, which means the wind has backed a bit further. We could either alter course to port to keep the sails full and the speed up, or deal with the sails. I reckon that if we gybed both main and jib, get back on course 20 degrees to starboard, we’ll be happy. So we pull in the jib, get the pole across and ready on the other side, gybe the main, and then get the jib out again. Lovely, just what we needed. Back above 6 knots, on course. It’s getting hot. Being on the laptop below is a nice respite from the heat – there’s no breeze but it’s out of the sun.

1615 Time for a cuppa. I passed Rose’s up to her in the cockpit, and nestled mine against the low side of the galley work surface. I should have known better.

1800 The sun has just set, which means it’s time to turn on the navigation lights at the top of the mast, and prepare ourselves for the night. I’ve managed to get a load of work done this afternoon – more than usual. The sea has been kind, and the wind consistent. Since we gybed we’ve been gently rolling from side to side, powering along between 5 and 7 knots in about 15 knots of wind.

Now that the clocks have changed – we’re in Mountain Time – sunset coincides much better with dinner time. A few days ago sunset was 5pm, which was a bit early really. Which is a bizarre concept. Why should a number on a clock dictate when we can or should eat? And yet it does. However hard we try to extricate ourselves from the structured time-driven day, and to run our lives by the sun, we still keep coming back to linking events with times on a clock. I think the only way to truly disconnect yourself from time is to turn all clocks off, but that’s not practical on a boat where we get it beamed down non-stop from the GPS satellites. Anyway, it’s my turn to do supper. I’ve put some tomato soup on, which we’ll eat (drink?) with the rest of the rolls Rose made earlier.

1900 Supper’s inside us, and it’s time for me to get some sleep. Generally so far on night passages we’ve been fairly casual with the watch schedule, each staying awake for a few hours until the other wakes up. We’ve not had any nasty weather, only a few hours at a time when the wind has dropped off leaving a lumpy swell behind it, which has made watch keeping much easier. It’s just been a case of watching out for other ships’ lights, and keeping an eye on sail trim. There’s not a lot out here. No commercial traffic, and the fishing boats we’ve seen have all be centred around coastal villages. Right now we’re out in the middle of the most south western bay of the Baja peninsula, perhaps 15 miles from land, and the only other boat around is a motor boat, also heading south. They were anchored at Bahia Santa Maria with us last night, but left a few hours after. They will have caught up when we were motoring slowly this morning – now we’re almost keeping station with them.

Tonight we’re going to try a different watch tactic. Rose is going to stay up as long as she can, and I’m going to sleep. When she’s done, I’ll take over, and hopefully take us into the dawn. It feels like we’re going to have a good night of wind – we’re far enough offshore for any dusk land breezes to have had their effect, and we’ve not seen much of a change. Fingers crossed for a fast, smooth night.

2300 Back down below after spending perhaps 45 minutes trying to get the boat settled. In the end gybed the main which did the trick.

0030 Wind has veered twenty degrees or so, and picked up. 20-25 knots apparent, from the port quarter. Glad we gybed the main when we did, we’re now flying along on a broad reach. Looking up from my sprawled out position on the saloon seat, I can see the instruments, and we’re regularly doing 8 knots plus. Time to put a reef in. I pop up on deck and get the job done. Rose says she’s doing fine and can keep watch for another hour. As I prepare to get my head down again, the moon appears over the eastern horizon like a slice of orange. It’s half full, and lying completely on its side, sunny side down, dark side up. Looks like it’s being chased up into the sky by the sun which will be along in a few hours.

0245 I’m having a dream where the boat is lunging back and forth, up and down, and nobody can get any rest. I wake up. It’s real, the motion of the boat is different. Sudden lurches, smaller, more fitful movements rather than the easy-going roll we had earlier. Rose has done a great job staying up this long, it’s time for me to leave la la land and get on watch. As is typical about this time, the wind drops. I take the reef out of the main. Soon, Mr Fish is hanging lifeless from the solar panel frame. Mr Fish tells us what the wind is doing; he’s a small kite that Rose bought from the Bristol Kite Festival years ago. When Mr Fish says no wind, we put the engine on. I roll in the jib, and turn on the donkey.

ssssshheeeeew. Shooting star! Another slug of coffee. Mainsail slatting flapping and clacking back and forth, not much I can do about that. Hope Rose can sleep. If it gets to the slamming stage, I’ll take it down.

0600 Sailing again! Trying to be as quiet as possible, I shuffled forwards out of the cockpit onto the foredeck, tethered into the safety line that runs down the side deck, to change the spinnaker pole across to the other side of the boat. Because there’s a small “baby stay” going down from the front of the mast above the pole attachment point, the pole has to come off completely in order to switch it over, so it’s a bit of a hassle. I don’t succeed in being quiet, which wakes Rose up – she comes to check I’m OK. Now, with the jib poled out again and the full main, we’re making the most of the morning breeze, and the engine is off again. Dawn is just starting to light the sky up, showing the outline of tall mountains – Baja Sur – the southern tip of Baja! On the horizon, just under 40 miles away, is our turning point, Cabo San Lucas. After that, we go east and north up into the Sea of Cortez for a couple of weeks.

It’s really warm and humid, I’m back in tee and shorts, having layered up into a fleece and thoroughly unnecessary wet weather jacket overnight. Out of habit, and also because it’s got decent pockets where I keep a torch, knife and PLB (emergency locator beacon).

Today brings a cloudy sky again, which is going to be great for keeping the sun off, let’s hope it doesn’t kill the wind. At least motoring for a couple of hours has topped up the batteries fully. When the engine is running I also turn the fridge up to max, getting a good frost going on the cooler.

0830 The wind has veered again, now blowing a decent 15 to 20 knots from the NE, and we’re heading directly for Cabo on a beam reach. The sky has almost cleared of clouds. I left the pole up when I switched … DOLPHINS! I just heard the squeak of a blowhole over my shoulder, I’m going up to the bow to watch.

Maybe ten of them. Small black ones. Didn’t stay for long. Don’t think I’ve seen these guys before. But can’t really tell what they, using our wee guide leaflet. So yeah, I left the pole up earlier when I switched the jib over to starboard for reaching, but I reckon this wind is going to stay with us for a while so I’ve taken the pole down.

1100 Nearing the cape. Ploughed through a load of sport fishing boats, had to take the boat off autopilot to steer between everyone’s lines. Lots of dolphin swimming and jumping.

1200 Wind getting frisky, Rafiki making solid eights down some of the waves. Probably the “cape effect”. Went up to the mast to put a reef in, and while I was up there decided that two was more sensible. Speed down to 5 knots now. Could be faster, but we’re not racing and I don’t want to push the boat hard at this point.

1300 WHALE! A few whales around us, nothing close, until a couple of spouts dead ahead. They disappear and a large whale appears off to starboard, casually making its way south in the 30 knot+ wind. Waves are picking up, lots of whitecaps.

1320 Coming fast past Punta Cabo. Frigate bird above, coughing something up, chucking it around then trying to swallow it again. Loads of fishing boats around. Boat creaming along, regularly in the sevens. Wind gusting high 30s.

1400 Having lunch, nearly ran over a sea turtle. “Tortuga del Mar” I guess. Haven’t done any Spanish lessons today … was supposed to be doing an hour a day, but somehow the days just float by…

1630 Hot, slow slog to the finish line. Soon after rounding the point, the wind dropped, the sea flattened and Mr Fish said “time for the engine”. We’ve been motoring a couple of hours now, one more hour to go. With no wind, the sun is scorchio! I’ve washed the cockpit and scrubbed a load of tiny rust spots away. Something to remember: NEVER do any ferrous metal angle grinding near a fibreglass boat. Even if you’re diligent in washing all the metal particles away, there will be some left, and they will leave rust spots. I was grinding a steel washer for fixing the backstay in Turtle Bay (then found a stainless one and used that instead, otherwise we’d have huge rust streaks all the way down the stern).

Lining the beach all the way from Cabo San Lucas to San Jose del Cabos are hotels and holiday apartments. Some are huge, futuristic looking monsters straight out of a sci-fi movie. From out here, there’s no sign of damage from hurricane Odile that struck last month. Hard to imagine what that must have been like.

1800 Managed to turn the engine off for the final approach to Puerto Los Cabos marina, a beautiful sail in calm water as the sun was setting. Radioed the marina, found our slip and tied up next to a guy called John on his stout little 27 footer. Shared some pasta and stories, and then bed.

Hola Mexico

November 16, 2014December 6, 2016 Chris TannerLeave a comment

Goodbye USA! After just over a year here, we’re moving on. The sail from San Diego to Ensenada in Mexico is about 60 miles – a decent length day, and wanting to arrive before dark to avoid lobster pots, we left as the sun was starting to rise and wake the city up.

2014 11 05 1100 Tiller arm — Fairly heavy engineering project – fitting the new autopilot tiller arm at the docks in Ensenada. Lots of bronze and stainless drilling, sweat and muscle

2014 11 05 1200 Edson tiller arm — Autopilot tiller arm in place, bolted through the rudder post. Not much room for working down here!

2014 11 06 1000 Leaving Ensenada — Leaving Ensenada after a couple of nights. Checked into Mexico OK, did a days work, then onwards

2014 11 06 1800 Moonrise — Moonrise – full moon over Baja

2014 11 07 0600 Split second before dawn — Moments before dawn the next morning, on our way down to Isla Cedros

DCIM100GOPRO — Rose capturing The Last Crumpet before we eat it for breakfast

Then from Cedros, we had a day sail across to Turtle Bay. Left early in the morning so that we’d get into Turtle Bay by dusk. Next morning, getting into the dinghy to go ashore for fuel, I noticed that the backstay chainplate had cracked welds – not good! Spent an hour or so ashore mulling over options; get a new part in from US, get something made here, get this one welded here, carry on with jury rig … ended up going back to the boat, taking off the backstay and chainplate, and taking it into town. Turns out the town’s stainless welder is up in Ensenada with the start of the Baja 1000 race and not back till Sunday. Erk, we’ve not got time for that. After a few hours of chasing people around town we finally catch up with a guy that can weld stainless and he fixes it up. Relief.

2014 11 10 1200 Backstay off — Backstay chainplate removed

2014 11 10 1200 Backstay chainplate — Welded back together – looks messy but I think it’s stronger than when it was new

Once the boat was back together, we filled up with nearly 40 gallons of diesel, hoping that we don’t have to use much of it! From Turtle Bay we had another 230-odd mile leg down to Bahia Santa Maria, a cove tucked around the corner out of the north westerly winds. Sailed almost all the way! Couple of nights out at sea.

2014 11 13 Bahia Santa Maria — Rafiki at anchor, Bahia Santa Maria

We arrived at night, maybe 0400, got some sleep, and then spent the day relaxing. Had a great swim. In the evening, went ashore, our first dinghy landing in the surf, and wandered on the beach.

2014 11 13 1800 Bahia Santa Maria — Bahia Santa Maria

Next morning, about 0500, we left for San Jose del Cabo, around the southern tip of the Baja peninsula. See On Passage With Rafiki for that leg, typical of the sailing we’ve had all the way down from Ensenada – though further north we’ve had less wind and a lot more motoring.

Los Angeles to San Diego

November 3, 2014December 6, 2016 Chris Tanner2 Comments

Now that it’s light, I can clearly see two separate sets of swell; one coming in from the south and another from the northwest. The southerly swell must be coming from a storm out in the pacific somewhere, and the north westerly swell is being driven by the local winds over the last few days. Waves from one swell meet waves from the other, combining to form a nasty steep face and often a spiteful little breaking section of white water. It’s uncomfortable, but there’s fortunately enough wind to hold the boat heeled over which reduces the rolling a bit. Every now and then a larger wave from the southerly swell comes along from the right, lifts the bow and takes it off downwind, the sails lose their power and we go through a few rail-to-rail rolls before coming back on track.

9 hours ago my alarm went off at midnight. I could hear rain on the cabin top, and the wind in the rigging sounded strong. Didn’t want to get up. But we’ve got a 75 mile leg down to San Diego, and I want to arrive before it gets dark tonight. Turning on the instruments and poking my head outside, it turned out that it’s not so bad. Time to go. I cast off the mooring at Long Hook on Catalina Island, and motor into the dark drizzle, unable to see anything apart from the little ship icon on the rain-spattered chart plotter, guiding me out to sea. For the first couple of hours, there’s no wind, and to stop the main sail slamming back and forth and probably doing itself some damage, I get it down. Without any sails up we’re rolling all over. Ugh. At about 3am, the wind kicks in, 20 knots from the northwest. I experiment with the sails to try and reduce the rolling, but nothing really works. The wind is dead astern, so the jib is pretty useless, flapping in the wind shadow behind the main sail. Having just the full main up in a lumpy sea isn’t great for the boat’s balance, but the autohelm is doing amazingly well, steering way better than I ever could, hour after hour. I reefed the main down when the wind rose to about 30 knots, and then just after dawn shook the reef out and unfurled the jib. We’re now cruising along at a decent 6 knots, still rolling but much more comfortably than before. Fewer of those southerly waves coming through. Rose is snoozing below in the sea berth, and San Diego is coming up over the horizon.

We spent a couple of days in Marina Del Ray, Los Angeles – a day working and a day exploring on rented bikes, along Venice Beach to Santa Monica. Almost every dock we’ve stayed at has had a team of sea lion hanging out nearby. Noisy, disgusting, smelly beasts. They bark almost all night, release vile smells, and make a mess everywhere. On the guest docks here, they were only a few yards away, a cacophony of shouting, snoring, burping and wheezing. I’d be happy never to see another sea lion again. Also at the dock was a pretty little green boat we’ve seen a few times since Morro Bay. Clearly a boat going places. On board are a couple of buddies sailing south to Mexico, one then flies to Aspen in Colorado for a winter season, while the other continues sailing around the world. No doubt we’ll bump into each other again further south.

I took the opportunity to rig up the exposure canopy on our dinghy to make sure everything worked, and I knew how to set it up. The inflatable canopy, along with a sea anchor to hold the bow into the waves, turns it into a life support vessel should we ever have to abandon ship. Strong, unsinkable, and easy to deploy. The canopy is now tucked away inside one of the compartments in the dinghy, hopefully I’ll never need to get it out again.

We left the marina yesterday morning and sailed across to Isla Santa Catalina, picked up a local mooring for a few hours, painted our faces for Halloween, watched a movie, and then got a few hours shut-eye before continuing on to San Diego.

Monterey to Los Angeles

October 28, 2014December 6, 2016 Chris Tanner1 Comment

Last Wednesday we left Monterey harbour reasonably early in the morning, for the 120 mile leg down to Morro Bay.

For most of the day we powered along under double reefed main and poled out jib, under cloudless skies. Dolphin and sea lion playing in our bow wave is now becoming a regular event, but today they didn’t stick around for as long as they have done before. Plenty of huge kelp islands floating around kept us on our toes, I’m not sure how much we’d pick up if we ran straight over one – but some of them look pretty solid. Not much we can do at night of course, but may as well dodge them during the day.

2014 10 22 1400 Kelp island — Kelp Island

Stunning sunset.

2014 10 22 1900 Sunset — Nature’s evening performance

Overnight on one of my watches we were visited by more dolphin, but this time I could only hear them, and see fizzing sparkling shapes of phosphorescence under the water. No moon meant it was fairly dark, so it was just the stars, the boat, dark waves, and a mind blowing sub-sea light show.

2014 10 23 0700 Morro Bay — Dawn approach to Morro Bay

The wind kept up through the night, which meant we arrived off the Morro Bay entrance a few hours before dawn. I didn’t fancy trying to find our way in during the night – the entrance is known for swell, rogue waves and currents. So at 0400 I started long tacks back and forth across the bay, waiting for light. For an hour or so before the sun rose, we had a solid 30 knots of wind, which made things a little more tiring. As the light strengthened, we motored into Morro Bay, past the breakwater where large swells where crunching away at the huge boulders. Glad we waited. It would have been OK coming in at night, but finding a place to anchor would have been a bit harder. Once we got the hook down, we both fell deep asleep for a couple of hours.

2014 10 23 0800 Morro Bay Arrival — Once inside the breakwater, all is calm

2014 10 23 0730 Morro Bay — Waves pounding at Morro Bay. That’s Morro Rock. The big one.

We dropped the dinghy in, rowed ashore and spent the day exploring Morro Bay and the surrounding beaches.

Next morning we woke to thick fog. The odd light from the town forced its way through the greyness of early dawn to reach us in the middle of the anchorage. The still, misty damp night has left a thick dew on deck, soaking the cockpit cushions we left out. The bay is silent, apart from one or two fishermen leaving port for the day, puttering past in their small boats. We’re not far behind them, pulling up our anchor and motoring out, past Morro Rock, the base of which is now only just visible below the cloud. The waves have died down since we came in, but there’s still some swell coming through. No wind though…

2014 10 24 0900 Morro Bay departure — Leaving Morro Bay in the fog

But within an hour or two, the engine is off, the sun is out and we’re sailing again. We’re due to round Point Conception late in the afternoon – the “Cape Horn of California”. It’s got a reputation for being gnarly, with strong winds and lumpy seas, and marks the beginning of the warmer and calmer waters of Southern California. We didn’t quite make as far as the point before dark – at Point Arguello (the point before Conception) I headed below for a couple of hours rest before the night ahead and Rose took command of the ship, sailing along at a decent 5 knots under just the full jib. I fell asleep instantly, and before I knew it, a couple of hours later in the early hours of the morning, we were around the corner and into the Santa Barbara Channel, dodging oil rigs. My turn on watch again, keeping the stars and waves company for the rest of the night.

Dawn over Santa Barbara was stunning – the sky bleeding with over-saturated reds, oranges and pinks.

We decided to pull into the marina here so that Rose could get some work done. It’s also pretty tiring doing a night sail, and we’ve tended to find a marina rather than an anchorage after each leg longer than 100 miles. Marinas come with showers and guaranteed flat water, which means no rocking at night. But there’s a price tag, and it’s not so idyllic being parked in among hundreds of other boats. Plenty of time for remote anchorages when we get to Mexico.

We explored Santa Barbara for a couple of days; our first taste of Southern California. Not as brash as I expect LA and San Diego will be – but still with the characteristic palm-lined beach front, surf dudes and yoga mat-toting girls. After a night in the marina and a morning working, we popped out to spend the night at anchor east of the pier. Managed to sneak a quick kayak in before dark. I picked up some rope and PVC pipe from a hardware store in town to make a boarding ladder – realising that with the dinghy on the stern, we can’t get the swim ladder down, and can’t get on and off the boat!

2014 10 26 1830 Santa Barbara pier — Under Santa Barbara pier

2014 10 26 1845 Getting back aboard — Trying to get back aboard a rolly Rafiki

Rolly. Really rolly. Strong winds out in the west end of the Santa Barbara Channel (around Point Conception) were pushing some decent swell through the anchorage, which made for a very uncomfortable night. The boat was rolling so much I had to move into the main cabin in order to lie sideways (athwartships) and be tipped head-up, head-down rather than rolled sideways. It’s a bit more comfortable like that – you don’t need to be constantly working muscles to stay in position, which makes it a bit easier to sleep. In the morning, we made the short 27 mile hop across to Santa Cruz Island, where we spent last night.

2014 10 27 1730 Santa Cruz Island — Approaching Santa Cruz Island

2014 10 27 1815 Smugglers Cove Santa Cruz Island — At anchor in Smugglers Cove

Rafiki is sat rocking at anchor in Smugglers Cove on Santa Cruz Island, creaking and squeaking. Every now and then when a larger set of waves rolls through, we rock a bit harder, ropes clank on the inside of the mast and the boom swings back and forth making the spring in the vang squawk like an old trampoline. A few seconds later, I hear the waves hissing on the shore just a few hundred yards away. The sun’s just gone down, and Rose is getting dinner ready. Smells amazing. I’m feeling fresh after a swim in the crystal clear sea, checking our anchor, testing the new underwater camera and just enjoying being in the water. It’s warm enough for just boardies, for half an hour or so anyway – amazing.

2014 10 27 1815 Fish and sunlight — Fish, sunlight

2014 10 27 1830 Rope ladder — Pro-looking rope ladder, works a treat too. Yes, I cleared the prop as well.

We’re getting into the rhythm of things – being on the boat at anchor, making passages, stopping in at marinas and generally moving further southward. This morning just before dawn I hauled up the anchor with the windlass and motored out of the bay into the brightening skies, east towards Los Angeles, while Rose got our morning cuppa sorted. Passing Anacapa Island, the sun rose to join us. It’s amazing how fast it shoots up out of the sea; within seconds the whole disc is well above the horizon and warming everything up.

2014 10 28 Dawn Over Anacapa Island — Dawn Over Anacapa Island

The 56 miles to Marina Del Ray took us just over 12 hours, half under engine power and half with the spinnaker up. I’m glad I picked that up off eBay – it’s going to save a lot of dreary donk-donk-donk-donk engine running as we head south with light winds behind us. Pretty photogenic, took too many pics…

Arriving at the guest dock, Rose goes forwards to kick the fenders off the side, just like we do every time we come into port. This time the splash was a bit louder than normal. Fender overboard! I spun the boat round and we rescued our lost man without trouble, then docked the boat in a visitors slip. Sea lions on the docks AGAIN. Shouting noisily, making a ruckus. I think we’ll still sleep pretty well.

Waiting for weather

October 21, 2014December 6, 2016 Chris TannerLeave a comment

Change of plan. We were due to head down to Morro Bay this morning, a 24-hour trip, but a couple of things have led to us sticking around in Monterey for another day. The forecast is still showing significant swell coming in from a large storm off Alaska, which is due to die off tonight. Large swell like this out in the open ocean isn’t generally a problem, but it might be uncomfortable – especially with the winds forecast at 20-30 knots. The wind is coming from the same direction as the swell, which means it’s not going to be the worst case of wind-against-swell, but that’s still quite a breeze. Also, Rose has received more information by email that lets her get some illustration work done, and with a deadline of the end of the month it makes sense for us to stay here for a day where it’s calm and we have internet.

Here’s what the wave forecast looks like for today (bright green : 4-5 metre swell off the coast of Big Sur, central California):

… and for the same time tomorrow, down to a more reasonable 2-3 metres:

Sitting here in the marina, in the sunshine and calm breeze, it doesn’t feel like there’s much weather out there, but we’re tucked right in the corner of Monterey Bay where it’s more protected. Let’s see what tomorrow brings!

Southbound

October 20, 2014December 6, 2016 Chris TannerLeave a comment

We’re on our way! 150-odd sea miles from Alameda, we’re tucked into a visitor slip in Monterey Harbor. The trip from Tiburon took just under 24 hours. At 8pm on Friday, after dinner at Sam’s Café, Rose, Ali and I sailed out under the Golden Gate Bridge in a nice breeze – which unfortunately dropped off before we’d cleared the shallow area outside the bay, which meant we were motoring into a large choppy sea without the wind to stabilise us. The boat was rolling, pitching and twisting over every wave, which wasn’t comfortable. But soon the wind picked up a bit, and as we got further out into the Pacific, we managed to sail for a few hours. Wind from the south again, like our last trip to Santa Cruz! It’s supposed to come from the north around here … but a cold front is passing through so again we’re close hauled, tacking down the coast. In the early hours of the morning the wind dropped off again, so the engine came back on.

2014 10 17 2100 Golden Gate Bridge — Adios, San Francisco!

Ali and I took casual turns on watch through the night, Rose taking some rest below, not feeling too hot after the early bumpy ride. Our first Pacific dawn was pretty good – the sun very briefly splashing the bottom of the clouds with pink before poking its head up over the land.

2014 10 18 0700 Dawn — Ali snugged up warm after a night at sea

2014 10 18 0700 Southbound — South, to Mexico!

About mid morning we were motoring along, rolling with the glassy swell, gradually making way towards Santa Cruz. I looked aft and saw a load of disturbed water, almost as though there was a puff of wind catching us up. Dolphins! Hundreds of them, riding the face of a wave, jumping clear of the water and looking very excited to see us. They stayed with us for about half an hour, riding the bow wave and getting a good look at us. At one point they all charged off to the left together, did a big loop around, and approached us again from astern. Magic. Looking in the book later, we think they were the Pacific Common Dolphin. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a large pod.

At lunch time, off Pt Ano Nuevo, the wind picked up from the north – whoopee! We rigged the jib out on the pole to starboard and the main on a preventer to port, and enjoyed classic downwind sailing all the way to Santa Cruz at nearly 7 knots. Hopefully it’ll be like this all the way to Mexico…

We spent the night at the fuel dock in Santa Cruz, and then met Kate and the kids in the morning – they’d driven down from San Francisco for the day. Family time! We headed out into Monterey bay to see if we could find some whales. No luck this time, but we had a great sail in the sunshine and wind.

Dropping off the family back on the dock at Santa Cruz, we made a sharp turn around and dashed south back across the bay towards Monterey – making the most of the sun and wind. The 20-odd miles took us just over 4 hours, starting off as a reach before the wind backed a bit. Close hauled we still made our course, and on the way saw a pod of Risso’s dolphin – huge things that we thought were whales until we checked the handy guide given to us in Monterey Harbor. As the fog closed in around us at sunset, we saw spurts of vapour from another great beast, and then the flukes of a huge tail disappearing below the surface. Whales! Rose thinks they were gray whales. So much wildlife out here.

Just before arriving in Monterey the fog cleared and the wind dropped, leaving us to motor gently into the harbor under a starry sky – about 8pm. It’s noisy and smelly – the pontoons opposite are heaving under the weight of sea lions, barking and shouting. Rose rustled up some pasta and then I crashed out, exhausted.

Today has been a relaxing day around the harbor and town, a bit of work in the morning, stocking up on more snacks from Trader Joe’s, and sorting pictures. We’ve not really made a dent on the snack stock that we got a couple of weeks ago, but something in me says we are going to be needing all the treats we can get for morale and energy over the next few days. Healthy tasty snacks = happy energetic crew! Tomorrow morning we leave at first light for Morro Bay, about 110 miles south.

2014 10 20 Track — Alameda to Monterey through Sausalito, Tiburon and Santa Cruz

Full circle

October 17, 2014December 6, 2016 Chris TannerLeave a comment

Almost a year since we moved to the USA, we’re back in Sausalito. We spent last night in Clipper Yacht Harbor, only a couple of slips down from where we spent winter and spring. Familiar territory. It brings our time here in the bay to a good closure, and we’re now ready to move on.

The past month has been heavy on transition – a bridge between travelling in the van and voyaging on the boat. Tonight we head out under the Golden Gate Bridge and make the Big Turn Left, south towards warmth, adventure and a whole bunch of new, exciting experiences!

There have been a number of things to get done to make the boat ready, Rose has been doing some illustration for the BBC, and I’ve squeezed in a short trip to the UK for work. We’ve gone through another cycle of purging possessions to try and thin things down a bit, and I took a few things back with me to leave at mum’s place. Being back in the UK office full time for a week was strange. It felt like I was starting a new job, learning lots of new things – and coupled with the jet lag, it was pretty exhausting. I’m joining the development team for a while, going back into the code. I moved on from this years ago, got used to handing over to a team of engineers, and in some ways picking up the tools again feels like a step backwards. But there’s still a lot of work to be done, and it’s going to be great being able to contribute while also traveling.

2014 10 10 Removing CA registration — Removing the California registration, she’s now a British Ship!

2014 10 07 0700 Dawn dew — Heavy dew in the mornings, and a chill in the air. Time to head south.

Last weekend we came over here to Sausalito to pick up Shane and Amanda for a weekend of sailing, and to make sure everything was working OK on the boat. New dinghy, new outboard engine, spinnaker and chart plotter all needed a shake-down. All systems go! For our tender, we ended up buying a Portland Pudgy, which is a hard plastic boat that, with an inflatable “exposure canopy”, also doubles as our life raft. Unsinkable, unbreakable, and no worries about non-inflation. I’ve heard too many stories about inflatable rafts not opening, or leaking, having spent months baking in their canister on deck. It’s a load heavier than I was expecting, and the original plan of storing it on the foredeck was going to be troublesome, so on the way back from work last week I popped into the local used parts shop to see if they had any davits (crane arms which fix on the stern of the mother ship). They did! So Thursday and Friday were consumed by a last-minute heavy engineering project to get them installed, with monster backing plates, and some custom stainless steel brackets. It’s now easy to drop and hoist the dinghy. And now that we have the extra weight on the stern to balance the chain and anchor on the bow, the boat has almost leveled off.

While anchored off Angel Island on Saturday evening, we performed a naming ceremony for Rafiki. When changing the name of a boat you need to make sure you’ve got Neptune’s approval, and also his sidekicks the four winds. Boreas, ruler of the North Wind, Zephyrus, of the West Wind, Eurus, of the East Wind, and Notus of the South Wind. According to legend, the name of every boat is recorded in the “Ledger of the Deep”, so we first needed to purge it from that with a de-naming procedure – which involved writing the name down on a metal washer in water-soluble ink and throwing it into the sea along with a generous dose of champagne. More champagne thrown into the sea on all points of the compass, a load of weighty god-appeasing words, and we’re all clear. Rafiki is ready to sail the oceans!

Just before we left Alameda for the last time, we stopped in at the pinball machine museum – what an amazing place. They have over 85 machines, from the mid-fifties through to modern times, all free play once you’ve paid your entrance fee. Rose and I were hooked, and spent hours flipping ball bearings around.

This morning we motored the dinghy around the corner to Bayside Café for breakfast with Joe and Brooke, and did some laundry. I need to pop into town to pick up some spare tools, pay a cheque in, get the AIS system working properly, and then we’re off to Tiburon for the afternoon and evening.

Arriving and leaving

September 26, 2014December 6, 2016 Chris TannerLeave a comment

We got back from the road trip nearly 3 weeks ago, and I’ve been so busy getting ready for our journey south to Mexico that I’ve not managed to even finish the story…

The last few miles in from Yosemite were familiar territory, but looking so, so dry. Leaving the mountains, we drove past a wildfire that looked like it had recently started – flames by the side of the road, and a few police cars arriving. We pulled into a lay-by a bit further down the road to see what was going on, as a bulldozer on a low-loader thundered past, sirens screaming. They had a spotter plane circling overhead, a helicopter picking up water from the nearby reservoir, and a couple of planes doing circles dropping red fire retardent powder. Checking back on the internet a few days later, it looked like they got this one under control quickly enough.

10,622 miles and 3 months later, we arrived back in Alameda. What an epic trip. The van held together, we adjusted to living in a micro space, didn’t bite each other’s heads off, and we saw an incredible amount of America. People always ask “what was your favourite part?” – I think it was the intensity of newness. New places, new scenery, constant change, different camp spots each night. Not one bit of boredom or dull routine in all the time we were away. The landscapes were stunning. The mountain biking, especially in the last few weeks, was awesome. Adjusting to being away from full time work was wonderful. The sense of freedom to go wherever we wanted, pretty much whenever we wanted, was addictive.

09-04 1100 California-dry-grass — Back in parched California

Each time we filled the tank with fuel I did feel that we were being excessively wasteful, driving around just for the sake of driving around to see places, burning up a whole load of petrol and spewing nasties into the air. I reconciled this with the fact that over the past year we’ve hardly consumed anything in terms of fuel, electricity or waste – living aboard the boat enforces that. And looking into the future, the wind will be our fuel, and the sun via our solar panels will power pretty much everything else.

We’re not sticking around the bay area, we’re going to get moving again. We live on a sailing boat. It’s built to be taken over distant horizons, carrying a crew of excited adventurers, not tied to a dock in a city, getting all dusty and grimy. I’ve always wanted to spend time seeing new lands from the sea, experiencing things that you’d just never experience as a tourist just passing through. But work is also calling… right now I’m on the way to SFO airport, going to spend a week in the UK company HQ with the tech team planning the next few months so I can continue to contribute while being out of the office. Our satellite phone turned up last week and I’m in the process of sorting out an airtime contract, so we should be able to stay in touch wherever we are.

The van is now delivering beer around the east bay; sold to a chef who’s just started a brewery. It felt strange to see it go, having had so much time in it over the summer. It was a home, a shelter from the sun and the rain, our life support machine, our transport and our one piece of consistency in a constantly changing few months. I sold my road bike. We’ve dropped a few bags of winter clothes, and my snowboard, at a buddy’s place (thanks!). Won’t be needing that in the tropics.

Even though I’ve been working steadily away on boat projects throughout the last year, there’s still been a lot to do. In the last couple of weeks we’ve:

Installed a watermaker to turn seawater into nice clean drinking water. At 3 gallons an hour it’s hardly going to match the flow of Niagara, but it should keep our tanks topped up and allow us to have freshwater showers.
Replaced all the stinky toilet hoses and pump so the boat now smells all fresh. A job that was surprisingly not as nasty as I thought it was going to be. The hardest thing was making sure I had all the right parts before I started, sine we use the heads on a daily basis.
Added an electric macerator pump to empty the holding tank when we’re out at sea. The local consignment store is very handy for picking up things like pumps second hand at good prices.
Spent hours and hours sorting out lockers and belongings down below.
Fitted an AIS unit so that ships and commercial fishing boats can see us on their instruments, and so that we can see them, even if it’s dark, foggy or stormy.
Rewired a bunch of stuff, fitted cabin cooling fans and a couple of new lights.
Made a drink holder for the cockpit so we have somewhere safe to put things when the boat is rolling around.
Replaced the masthead tricolour and anchor lights with LED bulbs to save loads of power.
Fixed the top rudder bearing which was starting to loosen. I hope it’s fixed, anyway – we’ve not had the boat out for a sail yet.
Tightened the steering cables around the rudder quadrant.
Painted the last 5 metres of the anchor chain red so that we can stop the windlass in time and not lose the whole lot overboard.
Had both main sail and jib repaired, with a third reef added to the main for super windy conditions.
Put the name on the stern (ssh don’t tell Neptune, we’ve not had our naming ceremony yet)
Added flag halyards for our Mexico courtesy flag.
Stocked up on boat and engine spares.
Picked up a new outboard engine and ordered a new dinghy. Decided to go with a hard dinghy that converts into a life raft.
Added an extra cockpit winch to haul in the jib furling line in strong winds.
Mounted an extra propane tank to the stern for our BBQ/grill.

… plus a bunch more small stuff.

Just 3 weeks to departure! We’re mentally ready – excited of course, and also a bit apprehensive – we’re going to be learning a huge amount in the next few weeks. We met a couple of Brazilians in the marina next door that are fitting out their boat to sail down to Patagonia where they’ll be climbing – they’ll be sailing down the California and Mexico coast about the same time as us. And there will be loads of other people we meet on the way too.

A couple of days ago, when we still had the rental car, we spent the entire day shopping for food. The Big Provisioning Run. Somehow the boat has managed to soak up hundreds of tins, pasta, rice, sauces, jars and a load of UHT almond milk which we may not be able to get once south of the border. That’s all gone under a screwed-down floor panel in the galley. I’ve been trying to stow everything as far aft as possible; ever since we added the new anchor, windlass and chain, Rafiki has been bow-down by a couple of inches. Not ideal, but not much we can do about that. Just before we go we’ll stock up on fresh food. We’ll be near shops pretty often – it’s not like we’re crossing an ocean – but from here forwards everything we buy will most likely need to be ferried out to the anchored boat by dinghy, so it pays to get the bulky and heavy stuff on board while we’re at dock.

Can’t wait!

Final straight

September 3, 2014December 6, 2016 Chris TannerLeave a comment

It’s now September 22nd and we’ve been in San Francisco for more than two weeks – and I’ve only just got around to finishing writing up our road trip. I’ve been busy on other things. More about that another time. So here’s a catch-up post.

Monday 1st

Stowaway! In the night, something ran over Rose’s arm and woke her up. A cheeky kangaroo rat had made its way aboard somehow, and was hunting among our packets of food. Throughout the hot night there was a shuffling and scuffling around in the bottom of the van, and by the morning it was gone. We were up early to catch the sun rise over the stunning red landscape, and explore before the sun got too hot. We made a trip across the park to see Elephant Rock which had been on Rose’s “crazy American scenery” list.

Saying goodbye to the desert, we drove the final few miles into Las Vegas, found a motel and crashed out in the cool, air conditioned rooms for the afternoon.

I’d been to Las Vegas before, so I had an idea of what to expect – but last time was for a software conference which was hosted in a fairly exclusive hotel. That time, we stayed in a budget hotel but it was out of town, so I never got to see “the strip”. This time, our motel was only a couple of blocks away. Time to party! Actually we’re not the kind of people that would come here by choice, but as we’re here for J&H to fly out, we thought it would be worth spending a night in town. Las Vegas is definitely a spectacle. Bright neon lights, tacky entertainment, halls filled with gambling machines, hotels, shows, everyone here to let off steam. A complete contrast from the emptiness of the desert!

We wandered around, had a drink at a run-down “Mexican beach bar”, had an amazing dinner at a faux-Parisian street restaurant, blew away our gambling money (all 5 bucks of it) and then made our way back to base.

Tuesday 2nd

Early start for Jon and Helen – flight out was 7am so I took them to the airport a couple of blocks away and then went back to bed. Rose and I spent the rest of the morning hanging out in the motel, sorting photos and enjoying the luxury of air conditioning. Found breakfast at “Farmer Boys” (or something like that), which turned out to be yet another fast food chain, even though I thought I’d searched out an organic, healthy food place. After gobbling down a breakfast burrito, which actually turned out to be not so bad, we went directly onto find a Starbucks for coffee and internet. Normally we’d try to hunt down a nice small independent coffee shop, but I thought the chances of finding something like that in Las Vegas was pretty remote. It was getting pretty hot, so we enjoyed a couple of hours in the air conditioning, reading, writing and not doing very much – just stalling for time so as not to get into Death Valley too early in the day.

Eventually, late afternoon, it was time to get going. It’s not a long drive into Death Valley from Las Vegas, just a few hours through hot, arid desert. We arrived at the visitor centre at Furnace Creek where the temperature was 117F; over 47 centigrade, at 6pm! We made a dash up the valley to catch the sunset, and then found a campground.

Here the seasons are back-to-front. Summer is the quiet period when most things are closed, including half the campgrounds – it’s just too hot. There was one open, just open gravel pitches and a picnic bench. Not even shade, which was surprising considering that we’d had decent [man made] shade in Utah camp sites. Maybe it’s a state thing – we’re now back in California. It didn’t cool down much, I think overnight it just about dipped below 100F.

Wednesday 3rd

Woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed, considering I’d spent the night on the picnic table outside, in an attempt to stay in the breeze and keep cool. “Breeze” makes you think of a cool, gentle wind – but here it’s more like standing in front of the door of an open furnace. In fact the campsite is called Furnace Creek… but I think that might be because of the borax mining and processing that used to go on here rather than anything to do with the temperature. Camping in Death Valley in August eh. Nutters. A guy nearby started working with a chainsaw at about 5am – the coolest time of the day.

So anyway, yeah, it’s hot. We drove up to Zabriskie Point to watch the sun rise, and we’re now sitting back in camp in the shade of a tree waiting for the visitor centre to open at 9, where we’ll pick up some info, maybe a cold drink and then dash across the baking desert into the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

Driving up along the east side of the mountains, things are starting to looks more “Californian”. It’s hard to put my finger on it – it’s arid, like everywhere else. And mountains, sand, dust, long straight roads. I think it’s the trees – big solid looking trees, not pines, but more like a cross between oak and eucalyptus. Drove through Bishop, which is a town I’d known about as a climbing and outdoor hub ever since my days at Sheffield, where I was immersed in the climbing world. A place I’d always wanted to go to, and here we are just driving on through. Just not enough time! Maybe if we spend more time in California in the future… it’s only “just” over the mountains from San Francisco.

Before turning left into Yosemite and over the last range of mountains before home, we stopped off briefly at Mono Lake, an alkali lake with incredible tufa formations. Like every lake it seems, the level is really low. Only recently have local authorities recognised that they need to think about water usage to prevent these lakes from drying up completely.

Just a few miles up from Mono Lake is the Yosemite park boundary. Back in pine and rock country. Huge granite domes and cliffs. We’d never been over this side of the park before – the Tioga Pass has always been closed due to snow each time we’d been, so it was good to finally get to drive through it. Just driving through one of the most amazing National Parks in the world feels like a crime, but we’re nearly home now and having been on the road for 3 months, we can “smell the barn”. Looking forward to getting back to the boat, seeing San Francisco friends again, and having some time in one place.

09-03 1900 Lembert Dome Yosemite — Last evening beer, Lembert Dome, Yosemite

Gooseberry mesa

September 1, 2014December 6, 2016 Chris TannerLeave a comment

[This post added later in September … I’m still catching up] Just one day left before Jon and Helen leave… they’ve been with us for 3 weeks, it’s been awesome having them over, and we’ve all managed to get on just fine – even though we’ve hardly been more than a few yards apart from each other the whole time. Spending time as a gang of four is very different from when it was just Rose and I – lots more time chatting and being sociable, but it’s meant I’m well behind on writing up our travels.

Jon and I wanted one last bike ride before they headed back, so we swung by Gooseberry Mesa to ride the classic loop around the top of the mesa (mesa is Spanish for “table” – the mesas round here are plateaus of land formed from harder rock when everything around it has been eroded away. It was the middle of the day by the time we got to the trailhead, along a few miles of bumpy dirt road, and pretty hot. But the ride was epic – yet again different scenery and a different type of riding. Some slickrock, some dusty singletrack through old gnarled Utah Juniper trees, and some donteventhinkaboutfallingoff riding along the very edge of the cliff.

Jon and Helen had been given a tip-off about somewhere to stop in on the way to Las Vegas, a place called Valley of Fire State Park, just 50 miles from the city. It was a long, hot drive from Zion, but we managed to make a small detour to Lake Mead where we had a swim to clean off and freshen up. It’s strange coming across huge expanses of fresh water in what’s otherwise barren, arid desert – this place is “the largest reservoir in the United States by maximum water capacity” – though at the moment it looks pretty low.

Valley of Fire State Park was stunning – outcrops of red rock poking up through the valley floor and catching the last light as the sun set. We found a campsite tucked right in under the rocks, and there was only one other group there! Such a contrast from Zion. Just goes to show how you don’t need to follow the crowds, and how you can find the best spots off the beaten track. For me, the emptiness and silence makes this kind of place much more special. In some ways it’s sad that more people don’t come out and enjoy it, yet if they did, it wouldn’t be quiet, empty and beautiful. We scrambled up the boulders behind the camp with a beer to watch the sunset, and soak up the hot desert evening.