I awoke in the early morning fog of Half Moon Bay to the sounds of Charles installing the mainsail battens. We had gotten one of the genoa sails back on the previous evening (after some hammocking to emotionally process our monumental but successful extraction from San Francisco Bay), and getting the battens in the mainsail would give us two fully-functioning sails. Initially our plan had been to stay here for a few days to take advantage of the protected harbor and get some long overdue boat projects done. We would relax a little, and then begin to tidy up after the chaos and grunge of the boatyard, finally putting our boat and home back together before continuing south. That was the plan anyway.
I had been looking forward to spending some time in Half Moon Bay. For me it would be a time to slow down and take stock of everything. We would regroup and organize, figure out what our next move would be. There were crates from storage everywhere, unfinished projects from the boatyard all of which needed finishing, tools associated with aforementioned unfinished projects, not to mention the thick carpet of boatyard dirt that blanketed every surface. I needed to catch my breath and get my bearings.
The past few months had been a whirlwind, and my brain was still trapped in the boatyard. Suddenly, after being hopelessly mired for months we were free! Like an arrow launched, I had assumed we would land in our Half Moon Bay target and stay there where my brain could process the events of the past few months and catch up. But that was going to have to wait.
By the time I was awake and more coherent, I could tell our plans were changing. No longer content to pause here and get situated, Charles was more antsy than I had ever seen him. He felt an urgent need to push south immediately. We needed to cover more ground and create more distance before he could feel safe. Safe knowing that we were finally, actually doing this and that we weren’t going back.
We needed to get past this already-visited anchorage, sail in less familiar waters, cover new ground and anchor in places we have never anchored before. He needed to feel like we were on our way. Then maybe he could relax and believe that we were really doing this, and then maybe he could finally begin to breathe. If we could continue putting distance between us and our former lives, the more difficult and unlikely our return would be, and we wanted to ensure that a return would be very, very difficult. The further we went, the better we would feel.
Charles’ need to leave was much stronger than my desire to stay and frankly, I understood and sympathized with his flight response. We were less than two hours from ‘home’ by car (okay, five hours if there was traffic). Rather than being on an ‘adventure’, in reality we were ‘around the corner’,… still within easy reach. As soon as the battens were in place, we hauled up anchor and made our way through the channel entrance and turned south. It was time to create some distance, it was time for some adventure, and it was time to be further south than this map!
Conditions were glorious as we came down the coast using our genoa and main in a sail configuration called wing-on-wing. With the wind at our backs the entire way, we were helped along by southward moving rollers, our stern lifted repeatedly by passing waves that boosted our speed momentarily as we surfed, carried along on the swell.
A great day (or even a mediocre day) of sailing does wonders for your mental state. Charles and I have learned over the years that when life starts getting to us, we need to get out on the water. It has a great way of prioritizing the important things and reminds us that there is so much more to life if you can poke your head out and have a look around sometimes, get out in nature, try something new, try something old, try something.
As with our previous leg, the trip to Santa Cruz was uneventful and relaxing. We took turns on watch and only two moments were noted in the ship’s log. The first was reaching speeds of over 10 knots under sail(!), and the second was passing Pigeon Point where we went with Mom and Audrey in 2017 when they visited.
It was surreal as we rounded the northernmost point of Monterey Bay and headed towards Santa Cruz, the buildings and wharf gradually taking shape as we got closer. We did a loop past the iconic Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, the lights flashing and strobing, the mechanical, tinny music briefly muted by the hydraulic ‘whoosh’ of rides peppered with screams and squeals as the riders looped and dove. We would soon be anchoring in this chaos for an upcoming birthday party so, in the mean time, we headed to the quieter side of the pier, away from the lights and music, to the anchorage where the liveaboards live.
We dropped our hook and proceeded to settle in. We would be staying here for a few weeks, long enough for Jo Jo to turn 14 and have her first ‘away’ birthday party. As we were putting our hammocks up, our nearest neighbor Amos came over on his paddleboard to welcome us to the neighborhood and share with us his local knowledge, including which are the safest dinghy docks and which host the most raucous sea lion parties.
For most of the year, Amos is one of the instructors for the famous Santa Cruz Junior Lifeguards Program. For the winter months he sails to Mexico, leaving in October when the Santa Cruz anchorage closes due to winter weather, spending the winter in Mexico, and then returning for the start of lifeguard season. I love that people have lives like this! He and the other liveaboards turned out to be a wealth of information for us newcomers, not to mention invaluable when things went a little sideways. But that is a story for next time.
As we climbed into our hammocks, both of us were stunned and smiling, feeling pretty happy with ourselves. We were in Santa Cruz! We had done our first ‘next leg’ and we were officially drawing new lines on our cruising map. We had left behind the last protected harbor we would see in a while. Going forward would mean anchoring for free in the designated anchorages scattered along the coast, and believe me, there is a reason they are free.
We would be at the mercy of the elements, the wind and the waves, and paying close attention to weather should we need to haul up anchor and move to shelter. We were about to learn a lot about ourselves and each other. We had been working towards this for so long and now it was finally here. After years of challenges and sacrifice we were finally through the starting gates. We had earned the right to put ourselves to the test.
