It was a dark and stormy night, mega yachts, and pistol shrimp

Coming out of San Francisco, it was a dark and stormy night, blowing 29 knots and gusting to 35 (knots X 1.2 = miles per hour, so, 35 knots X 1.2 = 42 mph!).  We were speeding about 15 miles off the coast of Big Sur at four in the morning when we accidentally jibbed, letting the boom whip across the boat.  In the process, the main sheet wrapped around the binnacle and tore it loose from the deck, sending the large main compass skidding across the cockpit and leaving the pedestal weaving back and forth about a foot in each direction.  Auto pilot was gone.  The compass mount was bent and parts of the housing had disappearred into the night.  We immediately dropped the sail and, bobbing in the high seas, we lashed the wheel back into place as best we could.  We were now able to steer, but the auto pilot wasn't responding, probably because the entire wheel could still wiggle back and forth.  We quickly tried turning back to motor north to duck in at Monterey Bay, the nearest port, about three hours away, but the storm was coming from the north and green water was pouring over us. We were going across the currents and it was stressing the now fragile steering. To make matters worse, I didn't realize that I had put the hatches in the vent mode, rather than shutting them firmly.  While we were getting drenched in the cockpit, water was pouring into the cabin down below dousing the cushions and giving my phone a salt water bath.  By dawn, we decided that going north was just too hard on the steering and we turned south.  The weather calmed through the day and by mid afternoon, we came into San Simeon.  It is a quiet bay which is mostly state park and we were the only boat there.  It was a beautiful anchorage and we had both been up for almost 35 hours.  After a beautiful sunset, sleep was most welcome. The red skiy at night was sailors' delight.

The next day we took stock and were glad to find the damage was to replaceable parts, rather than the boat itself.  Our knome, Lief, (I think he's Swedish, hence the Knome rather than the more common Gnome) is checking out where the compass should be.

We aligned the parts as much as bent metal would allow, got the auto pilot working again, and enjoyed our very distant view of Herast's castle up on the hill.  The cushions dried out, but the phone was dead.

Three more days at sea brought us to Los Angeles, which feels more like a foreign country than I imagined.  We ordered the needed parts, worked on projects, and visited with family and friends.  One such evening was with Lisa and Marty Falk, total strangers, who had contacted us from L.A. when we were still in Bellingham to offer us whatever we might need, showers, a place to send parts, whatever.  The Falks have a newer version of our boat, a J-40, and were able to appreciate each change and upgrade we had done to the boat.  It was a delight to be able to show her off, even with the pedestal removed and a gaping hole in the cockpit floor.

Both Jerry and I had chores on high:

We have abandoned the many layers required for sailing on a January night in the northwest.  We had five layers on the bottom (silk, wool, polypropolene, cotton, Gortex) and six layers on top, which added  a down jacket. Now we are comfortable in a T-shirt!

Los Angeles has very little recyclying.  We are docked next to a park which has about 20 garbage cans throughtout the park, but only one recycling can.  This seems to be common everywhere we go.  Southern California has been in a serious drought for several years now, but the park lawns are over watered creating a muddy mess, many of the sinks and toilets leak, none are low flow, and the "rivers" of the city are dry cement troughs.  On the good side, they have a bottle deposit to encourage people to return their bottles and cans to the store which then recycles them, but many people abandon them, saying, "that's how the homeless get heir income".  In fact, folks comb through the garbage daily, pulling out bottles and cans to reclaim the 5 or 10 cents they bring.

But no homeless are to be found across the harbor from us where three mega yachts are moored.  Waving the flag of the Caiman Islands, infamous as a tax haven for the very rich, the yachts offer large crews in their matching outfits to provide every luxury for their owners.  The "Invictus", for example, is 216 feet long and six stories tall.  It sports a pool, hot tub, gymnasium, theater, elevator, and fold out swim deck and cabana on the stern.  You can charter this beauty for a mere $476,000 per week, plus expenses, like filling up the 51,0000 gallon fuel tank.  Unlike our boat, it has no solar panels or wind generator.  All of its energy is provided by fossil fuels.

On the lighter side of life, we have been enjoying being serenaded by the stacato tic, tic, tic of the pistol shrimp.  These lopsided crustaceans stun their prey by snapping their over sized claw, creating a popping bubble which makes a loud noise.  You can hear this through the hull of the boat, tic, tic, tic day and night.  It's rather soothing.

For our last days in LA, we moved to the Pacific Mariners Yacht Club where we were warmly welcomed, in stark contrast to our first weeks at the park where a class in Hospitality 101 was sorely needed.  Our neighbors here are smart, quirky and easy going.  We fit right in. You can just see the sail cover and wind vane of Heron Reach behind their wooden ketch/pirate boat.

We leave for San Diego in a day or two, our final stop before heading into the Pacific.  We have taken too long to meet our group in the Galapagos as planned so will head directly to the Marquesas Islands in French Polynesia.  Before we go, we will create a link for you to be able to follow the boat and see our progress.  So, stay tuned!