Posted: Apr 03, 2020 - 01:26 PM
Holy hell I just found this thread again after five years! In the meantime here' what ended up happening with me:
2015: I sailed around Mission Bay San Diego with a GF and slipped on the boat overnight while at anchor. She was a trooper for doing that but wasn't really my type in the end.
2016: Sailed Dana Point to Seal Rock in San Clemente to just get time on the water. Sailed a few times out of Cabrillo Beach, mostly just inside the breakwater, and really ripped, the way Mr Alter himself designed this boat to do.
2017: Realized over the summer that I hadn't been sailing in over 6 months and that this trip might not ever happen, so in October 2017:
-I outfitted the boat with a Minn Kota trolling motor, a 100AH marine battery from Autozone and a 100W solar panel and charger from amazon. I do not recommend doing this.
-Reserved a site at Parsons Landing having never seen this thread, or the campsite before.
-packed water, camping burner, homemade chili, bacon and four eggs, tent, sleeping bag, pillow, lanterns, firewood, snorkel gear, GoPro, backup phone, compass, waterproof MP3 player, VHF vest radio, Map with printouts from google Earth showing what the island would look like when I approached it with nothing but land mass formations to see where the beach was, a Mavic Pro (drone), sunscreen, and some rum to celebrate.
I arrived at sunrise on the ramp and began rigging the boat, left the dock and my car and trailer at about 9am. There was NO wind. Glass. So I had to burn up juice motoring to the harbor entrance. At this time it was about 10am and the entrance has a lighthouse watching over it so I decided to use the dead time to but out the drone and get some footage of the boat and the lighthouse, trying to make a production out of the thing. Spent about 20 minutes doing that, but (as you all have already guessed) the footage looked like shit because you can't steer a beach cat and fly a drone at the same time, even if you hold the rudder crossbar with your foot and the boat is under power.
Put everything away and made my way W along the breakwater (climbing the anticipated angle into the wind to try and make the crossing with as little tacks as possible). The wind got better and better as 12pm turned into 2pm, and the water had a light chop. The haze in the channel was enough that I could not see the island at all, which added some fun to the equation because I really did use the compass and bearing angle I had figured out beforehand. I think it was like, 54 deg SW or something like that. As I saw the island take shape, I began getting concerned that I was still trying to climb so high into the wind and still wasn't going to hit Parsons in one shot--and it was approaching 5pm. By 6pm, I knew I had to tack back, and as you all know, the wind will start dying by sundown. It was already lightening up. And while I had been trying to keep the solar panel charging that battery back up, I knew it wasnt quick enough, so motor power was now an issue.
I got within about 300-400 yds from the shore and was basically about that many yards south of my landing point--all rocky shoreline in between. I knew if I got too close the wind will also die in the shadow, so I cut back out again, with the sun now pink, and just hitting the horizon. I could see basically two small lanterns in the growing shadows of the island. That had to be Parsons. So I cut back north, climbed until I thought I had it, and made my final turn toward the beach. I honestly could not tell until I got again within that 300 yds or so, that it was in fact the spot. By then it was like after 7pm, and I was standing on the trampoline with the electric motor tiller in one hand and a flashlight in the other--rudders were up, sails were slack. And then the kelp came. I could just see it in time to turn around it, knowing that if my pussy little troll prop got into it I'd be stuck. 100 yds away I saw rocks submerged and had to dodge that too. As I approached the "sand" I could see what you guys confirmed as well; my quaint, quiet little leeward-side landing on Catalina was now a 2-3 foot vertical surge up and down the beach--which equated to 30 or 40 feet horizontally, rushing water back and forth, over 1-inch pebbles, not sand. They made a horrendous racket when I beached, and while immediately conjuring images of cracking fiberglass (I had never heard my boat make that noise before), I jumped and set to trying to pull the boat up the beach, fully loaded. Not happening. I realized immediately that I had to unload the entire thing for me to make it up the slope to the flat area. so there I was, getting kicked around in the surf while trying to unload the boat, two handfuls of gear at a time, running up and down the slope in the lulls, and simply holding the boat in place during the sets. It took me almost an hour. It was now dark, and approaching 9pm.
At this time I finally saw that I was at the southerlymost area of the beach and my campsite (as directed by the aloof mountain biker group that had watched the whole thing from a nearby site) was still another 100 yards away to the north. So the boat and sails got left on the crown of the slope (I had checked the tide already, I was good until the following afternoon) and did the whole stumbling in the dark with a headlamp to the site, back and forth, THEN made a fire, THEN set the tent, THEN cooked the chili, THEN took a bunch of excedrin PM and tried to sleep. It was 1130pm.
I had originally planned for three days there, but after what I thought was a 5-7 hour voyage that took 10, I didn't want to chance being caught in the channel with a lull. Heading into the harbor in the dark was not my idea of a grand return, and I was already more wired with stress than enjoyment, so I woke up automatically at like 5:30am with the dawn (sleep was terrible), and packed up. No coffee needed. Made bacon and eggs while jogging back and forth with gear. Was in the water by 7:30, and felt really good. The Island looked gorgeous at the start of the day! Dolphins and whatnot, although not very close. I was under motor power, knowing I didn't have long, but my gamble went like this: "if I lose power, then I should do so as far out into the channel as possible, to get the wind, away from the island." So I did just that, and sure enough by 9am I was dead in the water. No wind. The island still felt like it was poking me in the back, it was so close. Frustration set in early, and then left quickly as I knew the wind had to come eventually. This was October, so Santa Anas might have caught me dead in the water all day (as the onshore collides with the offshore and stagnates out there sometimes), but the winds slowly showed up. VERY SLOWLY. So I was sitting there fooling around with the drone at about 1130 or 1200...when an effing Sunfish showed up. And not just swam by, but like, spiraled out of the deep below me, circled the boat twice, and then left. Being a sunfish, this took him ten minutes to accomplish. I got footage of it, and that was my close encounter with channel sea life for the whole trip.
By 12:30 or so, the slightest ripples showed up on the water, and I was still sitting just offshore from Parsons. I knew I needed to make up for lost time in the latter half of the day, so I decided to basically sail directly downwind, towards Two Harbors, before making a broad reach straight to the Cabrillo harbor entrance. Haze was the same as the day before so I used my phone's google map and GPS to kind of ballpark when to turn. I had a serious debate in my head though, about just turning in to Two Harbors and asking if I could stop and stay over, get a beer, a burger and just reset from the whole thing. I was riddled with stress--not fear--the need to GET GOING. The need to be moving toward my destination. Casual was nowhere in my vocabulary at this point.
In the end I turned toward home and started making good time. I was a fully loaded Hobie 16 though, and "good time" was made relevant by a H18 with basically nothing on it but two people (looked like a father and son) trapped out and hauling ass. I thought about hailing them but didn't have any real reason to, so they waved and were gone. I followed their track and eventually crossed the shipping lanes (missed a tanker by about 10 minutes, I guessed). I noticed midway that I was waging an internal battle; on how hard I wanted to push the boat and how much of a hurry I was in. It was an angled, following sea--and I was fully loaded with gear. The leeward hull was intermittently knifing below the surface and I sat back on the corner as far as I could. Doing this trip solo was foolish in general, I knew, but trapping out alone would have been idiotic. So I pushed it hard and had close calls, backed off and then pushed it hard again. I rode a couple waves, like really rode them for about 100 feet or more, and then the boat would settle off of the wave and continue.
Made it into the harbor by 5pm, only to be greeted by a cruise liner with escort tugs coming out. So I actually had to sit there in both the wind show and the actual shadow of this beast. By 5pm the wind in Cabrillo is whipping, but directly head on to my route back to the ramp. So like so many times I had sailed there for fun, I tacked and tacked and tacked up the narrow (like maybe 300 yds wide I think? ) corridor until I was able to cut north toward the ramp, and again, pulled up to the dock at sundown, under the last smidges of power the solar panels had replenished all day long, at about 7:15pm. Fucking beat, and thankful I made it out. Never doing that again.
Cole
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Cole
DTLA
'81 H16 Project to Catalina
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