No drama today, ...except for sea lions and whales. Lots and LOTS of frolicking whales! Oh, but you're probably not interested in that.



I woke at my typical early hour on Monday morning, but rousted myself out of my bunk and off the boat with more intention than usual. I'd posted a blog entry the previous day recounting our dramatic sail down from Half Moon Bay, but had traipsed off for my rendezvous in the blogiverse without having prepared pictures. That morning I was on a mission to satisfy the visual needs of my faithful following. With everything I needed in my backpack, I clambered into the little Portland Pudgy, cranked up the motor and nudged my way through the dark to the dock.

Now, this dock is a treacherous little affair that's stapled to a small landing accessed from the pier 30 feet overhead by a stair. The landing is six feet above the water and has an industrial grade aluminum ladder down to the dock. The dock itself is treacherous because its deck is only about 6 inches above the water, if that. That means two things: first, the proximity to the water's surface doesn't give you the usual feeling of security you get in a marina where the deck is a foot or a foot-and-a-half above the water; secondly, it provides easy access for the sea lions.

We'd dealt with the sea lions before. As big, noisy, and generally intimidating as they are, it seems that, if you are respectful in your movement, they stay out of your way and even bail into the ocean if they are particularly nervous. I must have been the first one to make my way in that morning because the dock was occupied with 400 to 600 pound beasts from end to end.

My tiny dinghy with its dinky little 2.3 horsepower motor doesn't impress anyone except with the ridiculous sight of me maneuvering it, but I used the noisy, air-cooled motor to advantage. By running back and forth and around in circles five or ten feet away, I succeeded in intimidating enough animals off one end of the dock to land and to make it to the ladder.

That was fine, but one of them had laid a big pile of sea lion poop right next to the cleat I needed to use and then attempted to rinse it off with a flood of sea lion pee. How pleasant. Think an ooze of coffee colored soft-serve ice-cream melting into a pool of stale beer. Still, there was nothing for it, so I dealt. One big guy (I don't know, ...could have been a gal.) held its ground about four feet from the ladder, but I braved the close encounter and have obviously lived to tell the tale.

Back pack slung across my shoulders with my laptop and camera inside, I set off at a deliberate pace toward the coffee shop I'd reconnoitered the previous afternoon. Remember my statement above, "With everything I needed in my backpack..."? Not. About half way in to my mile walk I remembered my glasses. That made uploading, sorting, and captioning photos a special adventure.

Anyway, I accomplished my mission and was still moving with intent when I got back to the boat around 8 o'clock. Ruthless in my industry, I disregarded Jim's penchant for lying in and did a major chore up on deck: raising the main sail section by section to scrub out the dirty smudges that had accrued on it since the very first day it had been on the boat. After a while even he couldn't take it any more and Jim got up to stumble through a wake up routine. We fed ourselves breakfast, hoisted the anchor, and got on our way about 10 am.

The day started out windless, so we motored southward toward Monterey some 19 miles away, following Andante into the mist that hung grey a mile or three distant. Friday was laying in until later in the morning when they hoped a wind would have risen.

An hour out we got a VHF call from Andante. They cruise a knot or so faster than Mabrouka does, so are able to call back with scouting reports on weather and wildlife. This time Kevin got on the horn and announced that they were surrounded by about 100 whales.

"A hundred," I asked incredulously? Well, maybe dozens, but a lot, and they were ALL around. I marked their estimated position on my chart plotter and motored on southward in great anticipation. We could see some cetacean activity ahead of us as we approached the big electronic "X" I'd placed on the sea, so we cut the engine and began to sneak up on the unsuspecting ocean denizens under sail.

Long story short, we did see some interesting activity with flights of seals charging across the water in pursuit of the same game the whales seemed to relish so much. Dolphins thrashed the water to foam in the distance and came to visit us once, but Mabrouka didn't interest them as much as lunch. This show was actually a little frustrating in light of Kevin's earlier report, but we sailed on earnestly toward Monterey still harboring high hopes of whale sightings from horizon to horizon.

A mostly fruitless hour later with Jim standing lookout on the bow, he pointed toward the shoreline that was appearing in the distant haze, claiming a lot of whale activity was coming in to view as well. He was right. After a while I could make out dozens of whale spouts near the shore. It was comparable to a geyer-fest at Yellowstone. We got closer and closer and our interest got more and more intense.

I think I'll leave most of the rest of the story to pictures, so go to the album for the San Diego half of this trip. There were at least two concentrations of whales within a mile of each other, each with at least a dozen animals circling and splashing, diving and breaching in an area of half a football field.

We doused the genny and drifted in their general direction, eventually getting to within about 500 yards of the main activity while separate whales meandered to and fro around us. My camera clicked and clicked and clicked and clicked until the batter ran out. I ended up taking over 500 pictures, of which I think I kept only about 350 and have posted only 30 or so. We were absolutely amazed, but by the time my battery died we were actually ready to move on. Oh, how easily jaded we are, but it was an experience I will never forget.

The effects of the sunny day were being felt aboard Mabrouka and the right side of my face was slightly a-sizzle as we sailed on toward the marina. We wound our way in to the far, back corner and found the Monterey Peninsula YC's dock occupied. Foretelling of minor calamity ahead, I'd felt something clunky happen in the steering as I was backing and filling to maneuver to a temporary tie-up while I cased the joint for mooring options.

Eventually we decided to go back outside the breakwater and anchor next to Andante and Friday again, hoping for reciprocal moorage at the yacht club the next day. The entrance to the marina is a tight little affair with restaurants and a tourist pier overlooking the west side. It was right there that my steering decided to lock up, leaving me able to turn to starboard only. Although Jim hurriedly clambered over board to the dinghy and stood by to perform tug duties, I was able to get Mabrouka to a dock without incident.

An hour later I had her fixed. The quadrant, the single-most significant part of the system short of the wheel and the rudder, had slipped down the rudder post about an inch, misaligning the cables which then proceeded to jump out of their grooves. I shifted it back up, pried the cables back in to place, and torqued down the bolts. All was now good, but I was dirty and sweaty, so called the harbor master back and arranged for a slip.