6/24/2002 - 6/30/2002
Whisper (center boat) anchored at Coches Prietos anchorage on Santa Cruz Island.
After spending our last wonderful week in Santa Barbara, we began to get antsy and realized if we did not leave for the islands soon, we would spend our entire cruising kitty in Santa Barbara. With the objective to "get away from it all", we set our departure for Monday morning, June 24th 2002. At about 10am, we checked out of the marina via VHF, and headed for the Channel Islands.
Our required reading before visiting the islands included Richard Henry Dana Jr.'s Two Years Before the Mast and Margaret Eaton's Diary of a Sea Captain's Wife. We also read Island of the Blue Dolphin, a lightly fictionalized account of the Woman of San Nicholas Island - a Chumash Indian woman left behind during a Missionary relocation/evacuation of Chumash people living in the Islands. She survived 18 years on the island alone. These books helped us to better understand some of the recent history of these islands (from the Mexican territories of the 1830's to the early 20th Century), and helped us to better understand how this entire area -- mainland and islands -- changed through human endeavor and occupation.
A quick trip to the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History gave us the geologic pre-history of the Channel Islands, and introduced us to the Chumash Indians and earlier humans that lived in this area 7,000+ years ago. We also checked out the fossilized remains of a pygmy Mastodon discovered on Santa Rosa Island - very cool. Based on what we learned and what we have subsequently seen for ourselves, the last 200 years have made quite an impact on this corner of the world - both the islands and the mainland.
The approach to Santa Cruz Island from about 5 miles out in the Santa Barbara Channel.
Santa Cruz Island offers the best introductory cruising of these four northern Channel Islands (San Miguel, Santa Rosa, Santa Cruz, and Anacapa Islands -- listed from west to east). We wanted to take away a great first "gunkholing in the islands" experience. Santa Cruz Island is now a preserve, 3/5 owned by the Nature Conservancy, and 2/5 still privately owned but managed by the National Parks Service. Permission to land on the island requires a Nature Conservancy Landing Permit. We acquired our landing permit, read our cruising guides, picked an anchorage, and headed off.
Robin kept a close eye on the weather for several days. A wind forecast of 10-20 knots and a wind-wave-swell combined of less than 6 feet seemed reasonable for the trip across the Santa Barbara Channel - a.k.a. "windy lane". The Santa Barbara Channel is a major shipping lane and home to a dozen oil platforms. Fog in the channel is common in the months of May and June. Even though our destination is only about 22 miles away, with only 5 miles of visibility, we cannot see the island when we leave.
A broad reach across the channel to our first destination was wonderful and uneventful. The wind never climbed above 15 knots and we made good time over to Pelican Bay, our first destination on Santa Cruz Island.
Whisper anchored in Pelican Bay (white speck left of center). Anchoring depths of 27 ft right up to cliffs. Bow and stern anchors required.
Pelican Bay is a small anchorage on the north side of the island, close to Santa Barbara. It offers good protection from all directions except E-NE, reasonable anchoring depths in sand, and a small beach nearby to get ashore. When we arrived around 3pm, we found an un-crowded anchorage with only one sailboat, a small powerboat, and two large commercial fishing boats. Unfortunately, even with so few boats, the anchorage is small and anchoring choices were limited. We tucked in behind the other sailboat against the cliffs and dropped both stern and bow anchors - a task which we had practiced only in our minds. For our first time anchoring with two anchors, we did fairly well. We were not happy with the position of the stern anchor, so we moved it and increased the scope using the dinghy.
At about 7pm, a small swell started building into the anchorage. Unfortunately, it was not right on our bow and the early rolling inspired Duncan to get the "flopper stopper" rigged.
This turned out to be a good choice and we slept fairly well - although we headed out to the main cabin and slept in lee cloths (tarps that prevent the berth occupant from rolling onto the floor). By the third night, we were accustomed to the noise and rolling and managed to sleep comfortably in our aft cabin.
The next morning, we cranked up the coffee pot with some fresh ground Peet's Coffee Robin found in Santa Barbara and kicked back to enjoy a lazy day of fishing, reading, nature watching, and swimming.
Fishing
Duncan at the fishin' hole. Hooked him a big 'un.
Except for a Tarpon Duncan caught under the 7-mile bridge in the Florida Keys in 1987 and a few tiny fish caught on various deep sea fishing boat excursions, we have yet to actively "fish" AND "catch" anything of mention. While in Santa Barbara, we purchased an inexpensive fishing rod. After several practice casts at the dock with nary a nibble on the fake bait, Robin suggested we get some "real" bait before heading over to the islands. Duncan picked up some frozen anchovies and frozen squid at the dock bait shop and added this to our angling arsenal.
After a couple hours at Pelican casting our "wild eye", pre-weighted, swimming rubber fish-with integrated-hook, without result -- we decided to bring out the big guns: the frozen bait.
Our Ocean Whitefish, before we threw him back.
After wrestling with the tattered remains of an anchovy "plug" that exploded on Duncan's second cast and left him with an empty hook and several satisfied fish, we pulled out a frozen squid, let the sun quickly defrost it, then cut the body into several bait-like strips. Duncan weaved the hook through it and cast it about 25 feet from the stern over toward the cliff.
Within 10 turns of the reel crank, the rod jumped in Duncan's hands and bent in an aggressive arc under the boat. Now we were fishing AND catching! To make a long fish story short, Duncan caught two Ocean Whitefish (or maybe the same one twice) and one Rockfish.
Unfortunately, we could not identify the fish at the time of their capture. We had no clue as to whether they were good eating, in season, big enough to keep, or worth the energy to filet. We added Fish Identification Book to the West Marine shopping list and let the suckers go. Later (after purchasing our Fish ID book), we learned they were edible. The Ocean Whitefish described as "delicious" when grilled in foil with lime and seasoning - oh well, next time.
Reading
During much of our time at anchor, we read. Either we read about where we currently are, or we read about the next places that we are planning to go. Occasionally we go on a "fiction binge" and will spend up to a week plowing through a few quick reads. When we get our mail (about once a month), this creates a deluge of sailing magazines that provide us with a stack of new reading.
Nature Watching
Robin, a.k.a. "eagle eye", spotted any bird, whale, fish, pelicans/gulls, sea lion, or other commotion -- up to 5 miles away over a 150-degree arc out of the anchorage. She was first with the binoculars and first to guess at identification.
We observed baby sea gulls on the cliff rocks making their first venture from the nest with their little fuzzy "chicken wings" that looked to be flapped and exercised for the very first time. The adaptation of fuzz/feather color and the camouflaged blending with the rock was amazing - at 60 feet we had problems seeing a squeaking chick that was standing in the open and chirping right at us.
We saw Orcas (or Pilot whales, or something else, not sure), Blue whales (or Fin whales, not sure) off in the distance. Close to the boat, we saw ocean sunfish, flying fish, tons of baitfish hovering under the boat and dinghy, and thousands of small red swimming shrimp/crawfish critters that were thick in the water around the boat. It looks like we will need a marine mammal, marine invertebrate, and crustacean identification book too!
Swimming
The water in Pelican Bay ranged between 59 and 62 degrees Fahrenheit. This is too cold for swimming "enjoyment". Our ideal swimming water temperature is somewhere over the 81 degree mark!
To shower, we soap up using fresh hot water from the stern shower hose, then jump, dive, or dunk off the swim ladder into the frigid ocean water to rinse out the major soap. We climb the swim ladder shivering but "refreshed", then proceed to rinse off the salt water with the fresh hot water again. It occurred to us we could safely eliminate the "salt water" steps until we get to some warmer water.
Exploring Pelican Bay -- 6/25/2002
Robin, steering Shout around the anchorage at Pelican Bay.
We explored Pelican and Little Pelican Bays in the dinghy and landed on the rocky beach at Little Pelican. Unfortunately, the "tree stump" where we planned to tie the dinghy, was driftwood propped up by a few small rocks -- so we had nowhere to tie off the dinghy on a rising tide. The terrain looked a bit challenging for our mood (rocky, steep, thick brush, no visible trail) so we wheezed (wimped out) and went back to the boat.
Arrival of the tall ship in Pelican Bay.
Around sunset, a three-mast square-rigged sailing ship came around the corner and anchored outside of Pelican Bay. For the next two days, about 30 young adults plied the island trails and waters around the bay (after landing successfully in Little Pelican and finding the trail). Two big commercial fishing boats came in about noon each day, then left again by 6:30pm to proceed with their fishing day.
For three days, this was our Pelican Bay experience. Sleeping became easier, but the nightly "Pelican Roll" encouraged us to seek out calmer anchorages on the south side of the island. At the end of Wednesday, the third day, we decided to head around the island the next day. We would swing by Little Scorpion anchorage, and if it looked inviting, stop for at least one night. Otherwise, we would continue around to Coches Prietos on the south side and hope for sunshine, warmer air and water, and a flat calm anchorage.
Thursday June 27th, 2002
Underway to Coches Prietos.
In an effort to beat the weekend crowds into one of the most popular (but small) anchorages on the south side, we weighed anchor and left Pelican Bay just after 11am.
We checked out Prisoner's Harbor and then headed east around the north side of Santa Cruz Island to Little Scorpion Anchorage. The sailing conditions were ideal and we cruised along at 6+ knots in less than 10 knots of wind. We reached the east end of the island (about 8 nautical miles) and the Little Scorpion anchorage just after 1pm. We decided that the same swell that rocked us nightly at Pelican would be more pronounced at this end of the island, so we decided to sail on toward Coches Prietos -- another 14 nautical miles distant.
Coches Prietos -- Ahoy Whisper!
At anchor in Coches. This is the busiest the beach was all week.
We arrived at Coches Prietos just after 3pm. The Spirit of Dana Point, a large old wooden schooner had anchored just outside Coches Prietos. The kayaking crew of Sea Scouts from the schooner welcomed us to the anchorage with a hearty "Ahoy Whisper!"
In the anchorage, we found three sailboats anchored bow-out, stern anchor to beach. Between two of the sailboats, we saw a "slot" that looked large enough for us to shimmy in but would still allow us to keep about a 20-yard distance between boats. We motored into shallow water near the beach and dropped our stern anchor, setting it and paying out line as we threaded Whisper between our neighbors and back out to the mouth of the anchorage. When at the end of our stern anchor rode (325 ft.), we dropped the bow anchor, set it, then slowly backed down while bringing in the stern anchor rode. At about 9:1 scope, on the bow, and 6:1 scope on the stern, we stopped, nestled in between our new neighbors. After quick greetings with the couple from Santa Cruz (Bay Area), and a widowed dad with his two young kids aboard from Ventura, we kicked back and relaxed for the rest of the afternoon.
A late arrival trimaran tucked into the east corner of the anchorage, very near the beach. They slung a hammock in their rigging and explored the beach via kayak. Another late arrival tucked in behind the reef and just off our starboard bow. It was crowded, but we felt (fairly) sure Whisper would not drag her anchor if conditions deteriorated.
Coches Prietos loosely translates to "pig/sow -- dark skinned", or "black pig" according to one cruising guide. Sure enough, every evening after all the humans had returned to their boats (and sometimes again in the morning to ensure he hadn't missed anything), a big, black, wild pig emerged from the tall grass and proceeded to root out any morsels left behind by a day worth of human beach going. Late at night, you could hear him (them) squeal-scream an eerie, echoing call that amplified through the canyons.
The stars in this anchorage were incredible. Before the moonrise each night, we sat in the cockpit watching a thick cloud of stars emerge from the pitch-black sky. We have not seen the stars this clearly for many years.
Whisper and her neighbors, anchored in Coches. Note Robin on the beach in lower left hand corner with the dinghy, Shout.
As the tide built in each night, we noticed swell coming over the reef and around the corner and surge that might prevent the anchorage from being the haven of comfort we had been seeking. We set out the flopper stopper (to the amusement and curiosity of our neighbors), and had a very comfortable first night sleep.
The next day, Friday, one of our neighbors left - or tried to leave. Either we laid our anchor chain over his anchor rode, or his attempt to retrieve his anchor snagged our chain. Either way, it was a good excuse for a morning plunge (or four). Duncan took a few free dives just to find the anchor-chain snag, then a fourth free dive to get it free. After the last plunge to 35 feet in 62 degree water with only a 3-mil wetsuit, Robin sensed Duncan's exhaustion level indicated that it might be time to get at least one dive tank aboard for anchor checks and untangling missions -- an excellent idea.
The rest of Friday included a hike on the island, a photo safari, and more relaxing/reading aboard. We saw many whales and lots of sea life while sitting at anchor in Coches - including what we thought were a pod of Orcas. We visited our other neighbors anchored under the western cliffs - a couple from San Diego out for 6+ weeks of cruising in the islands.
An attempt to capture a view of the the rugged inland canyons.
By Saturday morning, everyone had left the anchorage except our immediate (widowed dad) neighbor in his Formosa ketch. He mentioned that when the overnight onshore winds came down out of the canyon, our boats came within 15 feet of each other (I estimated about 30 ft). He indicated he wanted to move his stern anchor anyway, and this gave him a good excuse. He used his dinghy to move his anchor and added about 30 feet of chain to the rode to improve the "bite" of his Danforth anchor. His boat ended up a comfortable 80 or so feet away.
Around sunset on Saturday, another sailboat arrived and anchored under the east cliffs, and a powerboat loaded down with toys (surf boards, fishing gear, dinghy, kayaks) anchored under the western cliffs behind the reef. By this time, we were used to the large surge experienced in the anchorage at high and low tides. Our depth indicator would fluctuate 3 feet and the entire boat would surge with the inbound waves - feeling like you would surf backward onto shore, but the stalling and springing forward back out to sea on the wave trough. We warned the newcomers of this surge, because it only happened every six hours. If they arrived during a calm and did not lay sufficient scope, the might drag and end up on the beach/reef, hit other boats, driving other boats onto the beach/reef or some combination of these.
Just after midnight on Saturday (about 1am Sunday), the wind kicked up (okay, it was only 5 knots gusting occasionally to 10), the high tide surge built in, and the anchorage got sloppy. We awakened to find the Formosa ketch - that had been moved a good 25 yards away from our boat earlier on Saturday - was again within 25 feet of our boat. The bow of his boat climbed each wave and fell into the next trough, setting a motion that looked like an old Texas oil pump, plunging up and down on his bow anchor line -- six feet up, six feet down... This made us VERY nervous and we realized that the single-handed crew on the ketch did not intend to try to re-anchor at 1am. With this, we decided to do our own "anchor watch". In this case, we watched HIS anchor, and rehearsed our own "bailout scenarios" -- to be ready to take evasive action when his plunging bowsprit slid over our bucking stern. Robin prepared tea and organized the boat for departure while Duncan held his post in the cockpit.
At 5:30am, after sitting a 4.5-hour watch (nothing happened during the night), Duncan awakened Robin to get a plan together for the morning/day. We decided to head back to the mainland, find a calm mooring/slip/anchorage and catch up on boat chores. We plotted a course for Channel Islands Harbor and had another great sail past Santa Cruz and Anacapa Islands, across the Channel, and into Oxnard and the Channel Islands Harbor. Rather than goof off, we committed to catch up on our boat systems maintenance and (hopefully) get everything operating correctly (the genset and SSB/modem!).
Channel Islands; reflection, and our first impression
The Santa Cruz Island virgin coastline.
Much of the information about the Channel Islands we had gathered via "local knowledge" (asking fellow boaters) and from Brian Fagan's Cruising Guide to Central and Southern California (includes the Channel Islands). Through discussions with locals, we narrowed our selection of possible anchorages and listened to their recommendations on anchoring, navigation, and on-shore activities. Some of these folks helped to get us very excited and to set our expectations very high. One man exclaimed he spent several years cruising the Marquesas, and the Channel Islands rivaled anything he had seen in the South Pacific. Another person insisted the islands were as good as cruising Mexico (but much closer!). This testimony, combined with color pictures of clear, calm, turquoise-water anchorages, and satellite photos of the warm current eddy that surges up from Mexico (75+ degree water), led us to believe we were heading for a secret Southern California paradise.
These islands are starkly beautiful, extremely rugged, and geologically fascinating. They are large "chunks" of California just far enough off the coast and they seem to be (and in many ways are) from another time. The sea life thrives in the marine sanctuary, the deserted beaches are pristine, the canyons and trails are rugged, and the cliffs drop precipitously into clean, clear ocean water. The sailing is great, and there is plenty to explore, with trails, beaches, diving/snorkeling, and caves.
The water is only 60 degrees, but it sure looks inviting.
The anchorages can be exposed to swell, wind-wave, and surge -- providing a challenge for all boaters and their ground tackle. Our only frame of reference for anchorages are the lagoons of French Polynesia, the bays of the U.S. and British Virgin Islands, and the small bays on islands within the San Francisco Bay. Comparatively, the Santa Cruz Island anchorages seem like open roadsteads on the North Pacific!
We had a great Santa Cruz Island experience - but it was different from what we expected. Next time, we will visit these islands in the spring or fall (no recent hurricanes/tropical storms in Mexico) with kayaks, dive tanks, and warmer wetsuits (3-4 or 5 mil)!
Our next stop on the Channel Island adventure is Santa Catalina Island - which is supposed to be very different from Santa Cruz Island. We are looking forward to it!
Systems Update
The genset problem discovered in Morro Bay continued to await the voltage control circuit board that did not arrive before we left Santa Barbara. As a result, each day, for 1.5 to 2 hours Duncan became a "human voltage monitor" while the genset, water maker, and water heater were all running. If the voltage "ran-away" over 14.3 volts, he shut down the system and reset everything and started over in order to get it to stabilize. At the end of a few days of doing this, he figured out how to make the system behave (i.e. not climb to 18 volts and fry our fuses like it had already done twice), but we could not trust it enough to walk away. We hope to get this fixed during our next shore side stopover; the Fischer-Panda dealer in Southern California is tracking down the voltage controller for us.
Robin keeps trying to get our HF/SSB radio working with SailMail (email via radio frequencies) and weather faxes. We still do not know what is wrong, but the islands gave us an opportunity to test the radio and modem in a remote location where interference was not a huge variable. We may have narrowed it to a modem problem. Hopefully, we'll resolve both of these issues before heading to Santa Catalina.