Monterey has played a fairly significant role in my California life. It was an easy day-trip from my home in Alameda and, if I felt like making a weekend of it, inexpensive hotels were easy to come by outside of the main tourist areas. There is a lot to see and do here, seemingly something for everyone. If you are a buff of any kind (history, car, plane, boat, nature, art, wildlife, museums, literature, etc.) or if you like being in, under, or on the water, then you will likely find something here to interest you.

The natural rugged beauty of the area has, throughout history, attracted artists, painters, writers, naturalists, those seeking a literal littoral life, on the edge, where relentless water meets unrelenting land. There is no rapid change in this landscape. Waves versus shore, churning, tumbling, tumultuous and persistent, awe inspiring power against surfaces who have faced the same forces for who knows how long. Nature will make you feel humble here, from the colossal blue whale, the largest animal to ever live on our planet, to the delicate monarch butterfly, the epitome of perseverance and persistence, its migration a staggering 3000 mile journey and taking up to two months. How can you not believe in magic and feel wonder at the marvels of this place?

Monterey has a lengthy history beginning with the Ohlone who called the area Aacistak, and whose numerous large shell middens (essentially refuse piles which build up over time indicating a lengthy and much earlier coastal presence) have been largely obliterated, bulldozed for golf courses and waterfront homes. The evidence records them as stretching from the current Fisherman’s Wharf area around the Monterey Peninsula to Carmel.

Within the historic downtown the most visible influences are a mix of early Spanish mission (1600’s), followed by a period of Mexican governance until it was ceded to the USA in the late 1840s. The Spanish and Mexican influence is prevalent in the architecture of the historic district with many significant buildings being preserved from these periods.

The town is focused heavily on the bay and waterfront. Many of the roads running to-and-from the bay slope upwards providing each new block the potential for bay views. Up until the late 1950s the commercial fishing industry dominated with fish processing and canning factories ribboned along the shoreline, their heyday immortalized by Steinbeck in the books Tortilla Flat and Cannery Row. The seemingly endless bounties of sardines were taken in such great quantity that inevitably the entire industry collapsed. Buildings from that era now stand as harbingers, warnings from the past to change our ways or pay the price, preserved thanks to historical societies and tourism dollars. Today, most businesses seem tied to the marine industry, marine conservation, or ecotourism.

I have John Steinbeck to thank for my Monterey intrigue, his marine biologist friend Ed Ricketts securing the deal, his field of expertise the only tidbit needed to pique my interest. As I delved deeper into their friendship, I learned that Steinbeck had joined Ricketts on a biological specimens collecting expedition to the Sea of Cortez, and there it was, I was 100% fully and completely hooked.

It is known by many names, the Sea of Cortez, Golfo de California, the Vermillion Sea, whatever you want to call it, it is one of the most biologically diverse regions for marine species on the planet and consistently in the top 3 of constantly shifting places I wanted to visit. And so began that spark. A vague notion of following in their footsteps, going where they went, seeing the places they saw and observing how much it has changed. I filed the thought away but not too far, keeping it close, periodically examining then putting it away.

As I am sure you can imagine, that little thought fully unpacked itself the moment I met Charles. Now, Charles was largely raised in the desert and didn’t have a lot of love for the experience. There was a reason he wanted to spend his life at sea and in his mind, that life would include palm trees, tropical islands and endless reefs to explore, but the desert? He had spent enough time in the desert. Well, thankfully after over 7 years of endless bombardment with amazing images and facts about Baja, buying him the recommended cruising and anchoring guidebooks, and hearing from other cruisers how amazing it is, Charles too is now excited. Don’t get me wrong, tropical islands are still on the agenda, we’re just gonna pop in to Baja first.

Anyway, back to Monterey and its interwoven and pervasive importance in Charles’ and my life. Our first day-time date was a drive to Monterey for lunch (Lulu’s Griddle in the Middle on the Municipal Wharf) and then continuing down the coast to catch the sunset in Big Sur before driving back home on less congested roads. Our first little vacation with the kids, as we fought to get longer visits with them, was a long weekend in Monterey where we went tide pooling and visited the spectacular Monterey Bay Aquarium. When forest fires in the north blanketed the Bay Area with smoke for days or weeks, we took the kids south to Monterey to play at the beach or Dennis The Menace Playground. It became a beacon of hope and possibility when it was finally agreed that the kids could be on the boat in Monterey (they could not “be in the ocean” (?), but they could be in the bay) which eventually, inevitably led to our question, “What if we don’t come back”.

So you can see for us, Monterey was a destination we needed to reach for many reasons. It felt like that supportive friend always ready with a warm embrace and a soft place to land, a welcoming respite in our tumultuous journey, a place to escape to, a safehouse. It was familiar, it has witnessed and encouraged our growth as a couple and as a family, and now it was a temporary place for us to land, a place for us to rest, lick our wounds, regroup, take the time we needed to find our footing and figure out how we were going to get back up. Like the characters in a Steinbeck novel, we would persevere, better yet, we would rise. We knew we would. It is what we do best: picking up our pieces and deciding which ones to begin polishing.

So, first things first, Charles, my favorite computer wizard, spent a few hours online booking my flight to Canada so that I could finally visit my aunt who was now thankfully recovering from her fall, and then making an appointment for the soonest, nearest COVID test we could find, 50 miles away in Soledad. With the two most pressing things done we headed to shore to explore a little, finding the dinghy dock, checking out the marinas, and seeing a bit of Fisherman’s Wharf and the Historic District, trying to distract ourselves from what was looming and what was to come.

We didn’t feel comfortable leaving our car unattended in Santa Cruz for very long, so a few days later we made our way ashore and walked to the first of many bus stops that day as we set out on public transit to pick up our car, the 45 minute drive taking four hours by bus as we transferred in Salinas and Watsonville. We viewed these extra excursions as bonus trips, a chance to see a part of the area we had never seen before in a way we hadn’t yet experienced. Additionally, the added bonus of a road trip provided us with a bit of closure, a chance to drive these coastal roads one more time and say goodbye to this part of the country that has been our playground for so many years.

I had a few days before flying out so we set about getting tasks done and generally just distracting ourselves with the day-to-day. Charles was making frequent trips to shore, getting our alternator tested, getting boat parts, checking out the area, and looking for any opportunities for work, his ideal job being captain or crew, but definitely boat-related. I was more of a homebody, largely staying aboard with occasional forays to land for sightseeing and grocery shopping. I started to think about packing for Canada, finally tried my new bread maker, and procrastinated doing laundry for my trip.

During one of my ‘home days’, Charles had texted that he was in the dinghy and on his way. Soon I heard our dinghy in the distance, the motor choking off as it got nearer, and then a commotion. I could hear yelling and I went up into the cockpit to investigate. Charles was about 20 meters off our port side, standing in the dinghy, phone in hand, photographing jellyfish! Big jellyfish, small jellyfish, lots and lots of jellyfish! Magick Express was in the midst of hundreds of them, drifting, bobbing, suspended, graceful. They were all around us and interestingly, many that encountered our hull, rather than altering course to the left or right, instead dove under, surfacing on our starboard side. Charles had purposefully cut the dinghy motor when he spotted them and was rowing the rest of the way, not wanting to cause any of them harm. What a cool experience! Discovering amazing things that weren’t on my bucket list or even on my radar makes me wonder how much we miss.

The first few days at anchor were going well, we were getting items checked off of lists, parts were ordered, other parts were found. We were eating homemade funny-shaped bread, baked fresh in our own oven, and (thankfully!), it tasted great! We prioritized and included some sightseeing in our daily routines, combining moving our car every few days (a chore) with a walking tour through the different areas of the Monterey Historical District (fun touristy thing), or seeing the downtown hotel area as we walked to the nearest grocery store to stock up. Life was good, we were starting to settle in, we were getting things done, Charles was making some boating contacts, the anxiety was calming, we were starting to breathe. Clearly it was time for something to go wrong.

It was the day before my Covid test and 3 days before my flight. Our plan was to head in to Breakwater Cove Marina to pump out our holding tank and fill up on water and diesel to set Charles up before I left. As we were readying to haul up anchor, a ketch named Valiente arrived and dropped anchor, hailing us on the radio asking about the anchorage. They were a family of four with two small children and had just done an overnight passage north from Morro Bay. They were the embodiment of Charles’ dream and we were so excited to meet them. But, we had to get back to the task at hand, there would be time to chat once they were rested and our chores were done.

With Charles on the bow and me at the wheel we began bringing in the anchor chain, the engine idling in fast-neutral to ensure enough power for the anchor windlass to pull in two hundred feet of chain, not to mention the anchor. But something was off, the chain was behaving strangely. We had 175ft of chain still out, but it was acting as if there was 30ft, the chain taut, angled straight down. Any attempt to bring more chain in, resulted in our bow being pulled down. We were definitely stuck on something, and judging from the length of chain still out, we were likely also wrapped around it.

Were we able to get free? Or did we have to abandon ship? Did Corri make her flight ok? Did Charles await her return? Or did he sail away? Find out the answers to all of these questions and more! Next time.

P.S. sorry for the cliff hanger, they are so aggravating! Here is a slightly blurry photo of a nudibranch (Cockscomb Nudibranch, Antiopella barbarensis) taken at the dinghy dock as compensation.