Mid October 2021
Our last week in Morro Bay was a mix of preparation and play. As we stocked up on food and supplies for our next passage we also enjoyed our last moments in this lovely little town. Morro Bay had welcomed and nurtured us, taken us into its comforting embrace, and had calmed and steadied our flailing. We had come in hot, high off of spending an exhilarating hour with whales in the shadow of Morro Rock, exuberant from our sail south from Monterey Bay, desperate and uncertain about the future and what it would look like for us and for the kids, where we doing the right thing? All of this was wrapped in the ever-present squeeze of increasing financial strain and blanketed with the weight of the oppressive and controlling presence that had spurred our determined flight.
Morro Bay had been a comforting place for us to land and catch some of the balls we had been juggling. Our solar panels, the new dinghy, and the kid’s visit had all been taken care of, but we also managed to cross some smaller things off the list. Our hailing port was finally updated, our line-cutter was installed on our propeller (take that, crab pots and kelp!), and,… (and this is a very BIG ‘and’) Charles finally found and fixed the issue plaguing the dinghy motor! Big, solid steps were finally being taken after so many years of seemingly crawling towards our goal, and it was Morro Bay that shored us up as we tested our unsteady legs.
The peace of mind that a new (non-inflatable!) dinghy and a reliable motor brought were immeasurable, especially for me. No longer were dinghy rides to town a gamble (were milk and eggs worth it?). We now stood a much higher chance of reaching our destination than ever before, and I liked the fact that Hammock Express had proper rowing oars complete with oarlocks just-in-case. Exploring in the dinghy was suddenly much more enjoyable and my sense of adventure increased. Before this, the dinghy ride alone was often adventure enough for me.
With only one week left before heading off into the remote wilds of the Northern Channel Islands combined with a brand new dinghy just begging for some fun, we explored Morro Bay from one end t’other, bouncing over waves at the entrance to the breakwater before turning around and going south into the calm and protected waters of the estuary. We did a slow drift with the current, looking down into the shallow water to see what we would see. What were all those white pelicans after? Whatever it was, they lived in holes. We saw a lot of holes (video).
We fired up our now-reliable motor for a toodle past the floating sea lion dock, an inventive way to handle the adorable, exuberant, at-times-pesky critters. Give them their own dock, away from the wharves and dinghy docks, and it seems to have worked as we did not witness any misbehaving but we most certainly heard their bickering.
From the sea lion dock we continued south along the edge of the mooring fields, past the tilted mast and spreaders of the sunken fishing boat to where the bay opens up into a wide shallow estuary. Here the water becomes brackish, fed by the freshwater streams that empty into marshlands and intermix twice daily with the tidal influx of sea water. We passed below the impressive and already-visited Museum of Natural History with its excellent exhibits and sweeping views of the estuary, and did a loop past the large oyster farms. We practiced rowing as well as beach landing the dinghy in preparation for a possible shore excursion at San Miguel Island, the utterly calm waters and very gradually sloped shoreline making for the easiest beaching conditions imaginable, gently drifting ashore, the compacted sand being perfect for our dinghy wheels to find purchase.
My adventurous side was finally free to actually explore rather than worry if the dinghy would make it, which is why I suspect I was itching to undertake what would later become known as… The Death March. It started because of a small inkling that we were doing this whole ‘cruising thing’ wrong. Whilst anchored over the past few weeks we had seen countless boats come through, spending a few nights (or just a few hours) as they made their way south towards Mexico. The crews would anchor and then go ashore and see what they wanted to see and do what they wanted to do and they would be off again headed to their next port, energized and excited, blogging and vlogging as they went. We were exhausted just watching them, they made it look so easy.
We noticed that some people would beach dinghies, or kayaks, or paddleboards on the peninsula side of the estuary and would walk across the dunes out to the ocean. It seemed magical and romantic. One couple paddling past us stopped for a chat and said the walk was amazing and didn’t take long. I was hooked, I wanted us to do ‘the thing’. I wanted the cruising life I had imagined, not the one mired endlessly in ‘to-do’ lists and the obligations of others. It was time for us to finally explore like ‘real’ cruisers and start doing this thing right! Well…, lesson learned.
The day started brightly, filled with sparkles and promise. Today we would start a new chapter,… nay, a new Part in our lives together. Part 2, The Emergence – A Cruising Dawn Awakens! At long last we were going to do a cruiser thing, or at least ‘fake it ’til we make it’. If I ever got my new laptop I would finally have an experience to write about in our non-existent blog!
We beached the dinghy easily and pulled it on its wheels towards the high tide line. As a precaution, we walked it a bit farther, not wanting to have our new dinghy carried away on a rising tide before we are able to buy it an anchor. All was right with the world as we set out, the distant sound of waves crashing and the occasional glimpses of tumultuous ocean spray lured us onwards, it didn’t look far at all (panorama video)! Except that every dune we crossed or struggled around didn’t seem to be bringing us any closer, like the dream where you are running down a hallway but not getting any closer to the door at the end, it was Sisyphean. To add insult to injury, it had looked so easy we hadn’t bothered with water or snacks, after all we wouldn’t be gone long.
In spite of thirst and hunger we eventually made it, hallelujah! But my joy was short-lived, we still had to get back and returning was pretty much all I could think about, my knees already protesting loudly from walking so far on sand. From the beach we could see that there had been a path and without questioning why we hadn’t seen it earlier, we followed it as it went in the general correct direction towards the bay, plus, it was a path! You can’t go wrong if you stick to the path, right?
As we would come to high points on the landscape we could confirm our general location, we were definitely getting closer to the bay, but there weren’t always high points, so we just kept going. I questioned a few times if we were headed in the right direction but Charles kept saying it was this way and the bay was getting closer, so we kept going.
By the time we crested a rise and finally saw the water of the bay, it was too late. While the path had technically gotten us across the dune-filled peninsula, it had also taken us pretty far south, away from our dinghy. I was D.O.N.E. done! There was no way my knees would survive another dune. I opted to walk the significantly longer water’s edge route where at least the sand was compacted and more stable, while Charles chose a more direct, overland route through more sand dunes and a very questionable looking marshy-bog section where the diving birds relaxed and preened, giving it a potent, putrid stench.
Looking north to where the dinghy is and realizing we are way too far south. Charles started his overland route while I took the shoreline 
Charles’ shadow on the ridge, looking east towards town. 
Looking southward 
Charles’ route once he was almost back to the dinghy, having come through putrid marsh and more sand dunes.
Thankfully Charles’ way was faster, especially without having to wait for me (he later stated that my little legs would not have had an easy time on the uneven overland route). By the time he reached the dinghy the incoming tide was only a few feet away, our excursion having taken much longer than anticipated. Fortunately we had moved it higher on the beach, I just can’t even imagine…
On the bright side, with the tide not very far now, Charles was able to easily get the dinghy launched and follow the shoreline back towards me. He was a very welcome sight as he motored around the point and then rowed into the shallows. In that moment he was my hero, which was a much better moniker than the ones I was imagining an hour earlier.
With our marriage still intact, we made our way home and climbed aboard, our aching and wobbly legs thankful for some well-deserved hammock-time. There was a lesson to be learned here but I was too exhausted to ponder it at the moment, and frankly, there were a lot of lessons if I was willing to search for and explore them. Only time would tell.
As hard as the day had been, both of us were glad we had done it. Do we wish it had been easier? Absolutely! But, nevertheless, we’d had an adventure and like some adventures, they turn into something bigger than what you anticipated. What matters is that we made it through, we persevered and crossed the peninsula twice, the long way. And although we were tired and the day had been long and frustrating, we kept going.
With a big adventure under our belts we were ready to move on. We did one last food provision and treated ourselves to a single order of fish and chips from the place that smelled so good and always had a huge line (thank you Grandma Cindy). Our car was left in the fenced yard of the propane dealer, we could keep it here for a few weeks until we figured out where we would land next.
The yacht club agreed to find a worthy home for our old dinghy and old motor (we wanted them to go to someone who needed both but couldn’t afford either), and in a final stroke of luck, on our last morning as we were at the guest dock filling up water and emptying our holding tank before heading out, we met a man who needed an anchor, the exact anchor we had brought up from the bottom of Monterey Bay. Sold! To the man in the other sailboat on the public guest dock!
Sharing a fish and chips with this cutie pie! 
Giant clam shell holdfast (and kelp monster) on our anchor when we raised it! 
Giant clam shell holdfast on our anchor! 
Public Guest Dock, preparing to head out for Port San Luis! 
Morro Bay liveaboard and his cat at the dinghy dock portion of the guest dock! 
Magick Express on the guest dock as we take care of final issues before heading out 
Magick Express on the guest dock with Morro Rock in the distance 
Magick Express on the public guest dock, last morning in Morro Bay 
Another large anchor, thankfully not attached to us in any way!
As we headed towards the harbor entrance we did one last cruise along the waterfront. This town had quickly become ‘home’ and we would definitely miss the comfort and safety of her very protected anchorage. But it was time for us to move on. Being further south for winter seemed desirable so our plan was to keep heading in that direction and hope that some form of employment would appear, we just had to keep believing in our path.
Plus, I have to admit, the thought of exploring the Channel Islands and sunny southern California for weeks or months felt like a hardship I was willing to endure. There were numerous free anchorages and our only expenses would be food and fuel, both of which we had just filled the boat with. This was beginning to actually feel do-able, we were figuring it out and finding our groove and, as long as we didn’t think about money, things were definitely starting to look up.
Bonus Content Below: a video and a photo dump of images we like that weren’t used in blogs but we want them for our memories 💙
Photos of our visit to the Morro Bay Museum of Natural History and Elfin Forest
Critter tracks from The Death March
Scenes of Morro Bay
Otters and Osprey!
