The day was finally here! I had been imagining this moment for a long time, a micro-dream within our big over-arching plans. Today, after countless hours of figuring and scheming we would be realizing that small dream, we would be crossing Monterey Bay on our own boat! This day, this moment, had been a slowly simmering desire of mine for years now. During my ‘swinging singles’ days I would make a monthly pilgrimage to the shores of Monterey Bay, usually Moss Landing, occasionally Monterey itself, where I would get on somebody else’s boat and head out to sea in the hopes of seeing whales.

Whale watching is one of my very favourite things. You can keep your copper kettles and your rain-dropped roses (although whiskers on kittens and the off-white ponies can stay), in my opinion that song, with neither a mention of whales nor an appropriate level of appreciation for animals in general (ponies and kitten whiskers aside), is lacking. I love animals. Let me sing it from the rooftops. I LOVE ANIMALS and I have loved whale watching since the first time I went out on boat in my teens.

Since then I have gone out every chance I got, from Alaska to California, and for me, Monterey Bay had some of the most consistently incredible whale watching experiences I have ever had, as evidenced by the following album of whale watching photos, all taken on other people’s boats during multiple past trips to Monterey Bay.

MY PHOTOS FROM PREVIOUS TRIPS TO MONTEREY BAY

So, when I started dating a sailor with dreams of travel, a tiny *spark* appeared on the outskirts of my subconscious mind. Over the years that spark orbited, getting brighter as it got closer, until it found its opportunity and slotted into place. I started to casually gather information, asking Charles, “How long would it take to get to Monterey Bay and back?”. “Two days each way“, he responded, excited that I am asking him questions to do with sailing, apparently oblivious to the scheming way my brain works.

With that nugget of information in place the thoughts start orbiting again, bigger now, they are forming, taking shape. Weeks later I ask, “So, if we were to go to Monterey for a vacation, it would make sense to go for at least a week then?” …, “Hmm? what?“,… “To Monterey, if we were to take the boat there, it would make sense to have a full five days there and have the weekends on either side be travel days.” … “Ummm, I guess...?”. He’s on alert now, suspicious something is up. I file the information away, mulling it over, parameters getting clearer, the orbiting spark flaring brighter.

More weeks pass, “Can we anchor for free? Or would we need to factor in an overnight fee?” “Anchor where?“, “Monterey, if we were to go there for a week for vacation”. He looks at me, the trap is set, he is helpless, he loves looking up places to anchor, the only thing better is getting bridges to open for us, waving to everyone like they are spectators at a parade. “Let me look at places to anchor“, he says. “Oh, okay” I reply. 😈

Monterey Bay is known for having an absolutely spectacular array of wildlife including multiple species of sharks, dolphins, whales, turtles, countless coastal and pelagic fish species , seals, sealions, as well as sea and shore birds aplenty. A nature lover’s paradise, especially for an animal lover, hence my scheming. I was so excited, we wouldn’t be constrained by tour times or schedules so we could go anywhere we wanted, the world was our oyster and we would be able to see it all!

During our time in Santa Cruz, the daily meanderings of sea otters had worked as a magical elixir for me, re-sparking my interest in wildlife photography, a hobby I used to love before our former life became so restricted and suffocating. Knowing that crossing Monterey Bay was imminent, and in anticipation of this sure-to-be-spectacular day, I had gotten my big camera out from under the pile of things that had become more important, dusted off the proverbial cobwebs and started refamiliarizing myself.

I had envisioned us sailing casually, gliding between (and staying the appropriate distance of 100 to 500 yards away depending on species from) clusters of humpback whales lunge feeding, their giant mouths gaping as they burst, rising from the depths, rubbery throat pleats stretched to maximum. Or if not feeding, they would be gleefully breaching, their formidable pectoral fins helicoptering as they spin, projecting sheer, blissful joy. Maybe we would see orcas if the season was right, but definitely dolphins, there were always dolphins. On my list of hopeful species were great white shark, turtle, and sunfish, and as always, whales, preferably a species I hadn’t seen before, or blues, I always want to see blues but really, any whale sighting automatically makes for a good day.

So, with my expectations set as monumentally high as they could possibly be, we headed out with one reef in the mainsail, to the shipwreck at Aptos to start our day by photographing all of the great white sharks that were sure to be accumulating, awaiting our arrival. Then we would head south past turtles and sunfish until we reached whales. It was going to be epic.

Needless to say, there may have been some disappointment as we slowly cruised past the wreck, our shark-sighting tally remaining unchanged at zero, however the fully intact smorgasbord of cormorants, pelicans, gulls and harbor seals likely did not share that same sense of disappointment.

We set our course, put up the full genoa and headed south on an easy beat towards Monterey, still hopeful that our mind-blowing day was just around the corner. Instead, we had a peaceful, uneventful sail with overcast skies and light winds, perfect for zoning out and relaxing, letting the auto-pilot keep us on our track. For a few hours we alternated watch, taking turns looking for other boats, debris, wildlife, anything, but we saw nothing. On any other passage this would have been perfect and I tried not to be disappointed.

As we neared the center of the bay, the towers of the Moss Landing Power Plant barely visibly in the overcast marine layer (video), I was watching our charts and our depth monitor. I wanted to know when we were over the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary as this would be our best chance to see wildlife.

The Marine Sanctuary is situated over a massive underwater network of canyons that funnel nutrient-rich deep-water ocean currents upwards, bringing with them various species that consume those nutrients, those consumers then becoming prey themselves, the cycle continuing up the food chain to the top. For the big baleen whales (grays, humpbacks, blues), anchovy, sardines, and krill are on the menu and the canyons in Monterey Bay make the perfect feeding grounds.

As we neared the edge our depth monitor began to flash *274ft*, *274ft*, the last reading it was able to get before the bottom of the bay dropped away. We were officially over the canyon.

For ten minutes the depth reader flashed (video) as we crossed the chasm, unable to get its bearings, the ocean floor too far below for a reading. And then, just as I was beginning to give up hope, it happened. We had just done a shift change. Charles had stepped below and I had taken over the wheel. Suddenly, with no notifying blow or spray, I saw a big dark shape 5-10 meters off our port side. “WHAAAAAALE!!!!!” I bellowed at the top of my lungs while grabbing my big camera, the attached telephoto lens rendered almost useless by the close proximity of the subject.

We had seen a whale! A single, small humpback, but it was a whale and it was in Monterey Bay. It wasn’t the jaw-dropping encounter I had fantasized about, it never could have been. Some of the key aspects to amazing encounters are awe and surprise. By anticipating and expecting the extraordinary we set ourselves up for disappointment.

Seeing a whale in close proximity is an amazing experience,… period. Learning to appreciate a moment for what it is, rather than smothering it with expectation is likely one of the keys to happiness. Being a witness rather than a judge and seeing through unencumbered and open eyes. Give up your preconceptions of how you want things to be and try to experience them for how they are. Expect less, appreciate more. That sounds kinda nice,… simple even.

So, with a renewed sense of energy we forged on, the excitement of the encounter carrying us the rest of the way south to Monterey, the overcast skies dissipating as we got nearer, Monterey welcoming us with warmth, our elation having brought out the sun. We would settle in here for a month. I would fly home to see my aunt and the rest of my family, and Charles would stay in Monterey, anchored out, looking for work, and getting boat projects finished. We had a lot of things to figure out and we had 30 days to do it, and the clock started ticking the moment we dropped our anchor. Tick tock.

Pelicans for Elna, because she said she likes them. Taken on a previous trip to Monterey.