Someplace New

There aren't a whole lot of things that I really mind doing. I can squeeze into a tight compartment while upside down and fix some broken doo-dad, I can tear apart a toilet after a friend left his business in there and plugged it up, I can even walk 5 miles to the grocery store and back without too much of a fuss. But for some reason, getting out of bed at 4 AM so we can get to our next destination by sunset seems like a bit too much. No human should be awake at 4 AM. No one. Period.

From Half Moon Bay to Monterey, California is roughly 70 nautical miles of open ocean sailing. It's not all that far away but it's still far enough that if the wind wasn't blowing strong enough, we couldn't get from point A to point B before the sun went down. And we don't like trying to pull into a port at night. Especially an unfamiliar port with city lights as the backdrop. It's almost impossible to pick out a channel marker or beacon floating in the ocean from a car's tail-light on shore. All of the lights merge together in a kaleidoscope of mayhem. Since those channel markers and beacons tell you where rocks and shoals are, you don't want to be following the wrong light and end up high and dry on some reef. So, we do our best to pull into a harbor during daylight hours, because keeping the boat floating is a good idea.

We had been anchored in Half Moon Bay for an entire week, and for the last few days of that week, we had strong winds that had been ripping through the anchorage. The 30 knots of breeze had not only given us the gift of sleepless nights, but it had also not allowed us to prepare the boat for heading back to sea. We needed to haul the dingy on deck, hoist our head sail back onto the furler after doing a small sail repair, and lay out the jack lines (for you non-sailors, jack lines are high strength webbing that run the length of the boat for us to clip our harness onto if we leave the cockpit. They keep us tied to the boat at all times, so even if you get knocked overboard by a big wave, you aren't lost at sea...a good thing). All of these things we would normally do ahead of time, but with the strong wind, it forced us to do it at a time when the wind storm finally let up and when no human should be awake – 4 AM.

Instead of just complaining about getting out of bed at 4, we had to complain about getting up at 4 along with doing a bunch of work before heading to sea. Just going to sea is hard enough, but sweating, grunting, and hoisting sails and a dinghy on deck while it's pitch black outside, at 4 AM while you are already grouchy from being up so early, makes going to sea even harder.

I would like to tell you that both Brenda and I are perfect human beings at 4 in the morning. I would like to tell you that we are sweet and kind and compassionate to each other at a time when neither one of us would like to be awake. I would like to tell you that Brenda wakes me up by whispering all of the reasons why she thinks I am so great into my ear, while she gently places a hot cup of coffee in my hand. I would like to tell you that I just do all of the work by myself so Brenda can get more precious sleep. I would like to tell you all of those things but I can't. While we don't yell and scream at each other or make snide comments out loud, I can wholeheartedly guarantee that both of us are thinking of ways to kill the other person so it will look like an accident, just so we can go back to sleep and do all of this at a decent hour.

After spending nearly an hour getting the boat ready, we finally left our anchorage with Brenda guiding us out and around the breakwater by standing on the bow of the boat with the spotlight. As soon as we rounded the shelter of the breakwater, the ocean swell was there to greet us.

Leaving when it's pitch black outside, without a view of the horizon, and with a lumpy 5-7 foot swell that had the boat rolling and bouncing from side to side made Brenda not feel very well. Seasickness was coming on fast for her, so within 10 minutes of leaving Half Moon Bay, she was back in bed. For her, laying down, closing her eyes, and trying to sleep does wonders.

I was happy to be taking the first shift, not only because it meant Brenda would get some rest and hopefully ward off seasickness, but also because I was really enjoying myself. Once I got over the fact that we were up at 4 AM, and after we got a few miles away from land, the swell became more consistent and the motion of the boat started to settle down. With a gentle rolling instead of the washing machine affect we had closer to land, I could really appreciate what it was we were doing. We were going someplace new, and someplace new is one of our favorite things.

I've said this before and I'm going to say it again. There are times at sea when I can't imagine doing anything else. There are moments when it seems like we are exactly where we are supposed to be. This was one of those mornings.

The stars were as bright as I've ever seen them, dolphins had come by for a brief visit, and the boat was gliding through the water effortlessly. Brenda was down below sleeping and I was outside in the cockpit, in charge of our little ship. There were no distractions and no feelings of apprehension. There was just clarity. For me, clarity doesn't come very often. My mind is usually spinning on something but on this morning, I was unusually clear. I was able to sit and listen to the water rushing by the hull, gaze at the multitude of stars, and feel the cool breeze on my face. There was no fanfare and no fireworks, there was simply an overwhelming feeling that I was alive. It was a magical feeling that we were exactly where we were supposed to be and we were doing exactly what we are supposed to be doing. Living.

Unfortunately for Brenda, she wasn't able to share in my zen master moment. Other than for a few brief minutes, she wasn't able to break away from feeling miserable. She spent most of the day trying to sleep off seasickness while I pretended I was the Captain of our ship, sailing our way south towards Monterey and bringing us one step closer to Mexico.

We made it to Monterey after a short 10 hours at sea. The funny thing was that we could have slept for a few hours longer because the breeze filled in and had us racing to our destination. We had a downwind sleigh ride of a sail that was as perfect as could be. The wind and swell were directly on our stern which had us surfing down the waves at break-neck speeds (still just about the speed of a fast jog...but still, it felt really fast). If we weren't as excited to get to Monterey as we were, I would have kept going farther south, just to keep sailing.

So, here we are in Monterey. It's someplace new. And we love to be in someplace new.