Passage to Santa Barbara, CA
This next stretch of coastline was proving to be a bit confounding to us. We couldn’t decide how to do it, how many stops to make, and when exactly to leave. Monterey was fantastic and we enjoyed exploring all that it had to offer, from history to natural splendor. And all the fun we were having was making it hard to get going again.
Part of this was driven by us getting used to being teachers. We were both enjoying while learning a ton ourselves about the topics, how to manage time, how to work thought the material. While “school” didn’t take the whole day, it was taking up a large portion of our brains.
The next natural stop would be Morro Bay, a very interesting natural harbor with lots to offer. At a little over 100 nautical miles, it was just over what we would do in a single set of daylight hours. We had done an overnight from Sausalito to Monterey and we wanted to see if there was an option to spend more daylight hours in the next passage, have less pressure to make it by a certain time, and sail as much as possible. We also wanted to do a bit of a longer stretch with just the 5 of us to see what that would be like.
We decided to set our sights on Santa Barbara, at just over 200 nautical miles, we could be guaranteed that it would take us more than a single 24 hour period - somewhere between 32 - 36 hours.
Our actual route to Santa Barbara - 205 nautical miles in 33 hours. Morro Bay is right around the halfway mark.
The North Pacific high pressure was setup and pretty well anchored for most of our time in Monterey, creating strong northwest winds blowing down the coast - until a low pressure system came in and reversed the flow. It went from sunny and chilly nights to rain and warmer, more tropical air overnight. The harbor was swept with strong southwest winds for a few days blowing us all around our large slip.
Initially we targeted leaving just as this low pressure system started to dissipate, but then life happened. Our son got a bad cut which required stitches the night before we were supposed to head south into mild southerly winds. We had gotten antsy and wanted to move on, hoping we could sail once we rounding Pt Conception, but signing up for hours and hours of motoring south to get there.
Fortunately, he mended quickly. It also made us pause and look for a better weather window. One that met our original intentions - more sailing and more daylight hours. We found one on Friday, September 23. The high had started to reform and winds were forecast to be 15 knots and dying over the course of the trip. We would follow this northwest wind south.
The night before we left winds were strong, whipping up the sea and this was our greatest concern. Our kids, just like any normal humans, do not love steep seas and we were looking at a departure in the morning. As we went to bed the winds were in the mid-20s off the coast and the seas were holding pretty constant at 6 feet at a 5-6 second period. These would be uncomfortable waves. Short period, some amount of slamming going into them and definitely rolling through a big arch if we had them on the broadside. The wind was coming from the same direction as the dominate swell as we left Monterey, up to Pt Pinos, so we were going to have to get through some chop as we headed north, and then find the moment and angles to make the turn south.
The National Data Buoy Center is an invaluable resource. I am so appreciative of these public investments in weather and data. They make such a difference as most things are forecasts and these readings are real data of what is actually going on. There are a number of buoys available that tell the actual conditions. Importantly, if you scroll down to the bottom of the observation page there is a computed value that takes wave height and wave period and combines them into “Steepness” which gives you a sense of the feel out there. “Very Steep” is exactly what it sounds like - uncomfortable and not something I would aim to go out in, regardless of whether or not you are headed into the waves or with them. (Pro tip: if you are repeatedly looking at the same section of water, you can bookmark that map to that area with the “Bookmark This Link to Save Current Map View!” link on the upper right hard quadrant of the page.)
Sample Wave Steepness plot Buoy 46239, off of Point Sur, CA
By the morning time, the waves are started to go from “Very Steep” to “Steep” and the wind was starting to slacken. We knew it wouldn’t be the most comfortable morning, but the actuals were matching the forecast. This meant we would likely have a bumpy morning and gradually easing conditions into the afternoon.
We got up at first light to maximize daylight hours and were treated to clear skies and a gorgeous sunrise. We motored into the swell to get up and around Pt Pions and almost immediately felt the big rollers. The boat started to move up and down and the period between peaks shrank as we got to the point. Everyone found a place on the boat they felt comfortable and we took a northwesterly course to get a bit north of the point and find a time to make the big turn south.
With our turn south made, we started with the sails under jib alone. This gave us a chance to figure out the wave angles and the wind angles before really setting up. Our best downwind sailing right now is wing-on-wing, which takes a fair amount of setup.
Sailing south along Big Sur under jib alone to get a sense of wind and waves.
The wave angles suggested we head a bit more towards the coast to keep the waves on our port stern quarter, so we setup to have the main on the starboard and the whisker pole on the port side. We setup the pole, include all of the guys - so many guys - and settled in for a long downwind run. We keep the main to the side that for sure is oppositive the wind and the jib on the side where the wind is just off the stern. In this case that meant we had the wind and waves off the port stern quarter, the main on the starboard side, and the jib on the port side.
Sailing downwind wing-on-wing with the whisker pole out.
With a fair current, we were managing 6.5+ knots very comfortably. As the afternoon progressed, the wind near shore was starting to slacken and we weren’t going to have enough room to sail around Pt Arguello, so we gibed the wing-on-wing setup to start to head a bit more offshore and keep in the fair winds. This isn’t a super simple process. We furled the jib, gibed the main, brought the whisker pole to the other side (and all of those guys - fore, aft, and down), and then unfurled the jib again. With 3 of us doing it, it took about 35 minutes in total.
Our wing-on-wing setup after the gibe.
As night began to fall, we were treated to 4 natural wonders. A sunset over the open Pacific. A whale doing a tail slapping bonanza. A pod of dolphins spending 30 minutes swimming all around the boat. And, as night fell, a moonless night with a clear sky and tons of stars. It is hours like these that leave long lasting memories. The colors at sunset and how they change right afterwards are hard to describe.
We were in a line of four sailboats all headed south. We radioed to one to chat during dinner and learned they were circumnavigating the globe. We had spent much of the day with these four boats, close by any standard, yet on the water all in our own isolated little worlds.
Night descending on the ocean is a time of a lot of transitions. It is light until it all of the sudden feels dark. Watch schedules usually feel much more important as everyone wraps up from the dinner and those on watch stay out. The running lights get turned on. Instruments have to get turned down to night mode. More clothes need to be put on. Head lamps come out. Lights below are suddenly incredibly bright. And then, all of the sudden, it is actually night. The radar is on. You are scanning the horizon for boats.
On this night, the stars were out in force. We could see them all, or so it felt like. The whole Milky Way was putting on a show. There were satellites everywhere. Jupiter was super bright in the east. The Big Dipper was perfectly framed by our aft shrouds. The North Star, usually so obvious, was just one of a million bright dots in the sky.
After an hour the splendor started to get shrouded in fog. Out of nowhere visibility dropped and we felt like we were in a snowball. It can be pretty exhausting to be on watch in the fog at night. Your senses are searching for signal and aware of the littlest thing. Other than our 3 boat friends, whom we had left behind as we continued downwind, there was blissfully little traffic.
Around 3 AM we started to see more traffic and lights on the horizon. We saw our first oil drilling platform, which was very bright and visible for miles. We had a sailboat ghost in front of us at 3 knots with what appeared to be a bright white light halfway up the mast. I saw it on radar first and tracked it as we were going to cross with about a nautical mile between us. I got a good read on it and had it visible in the binoculars when all of the sudden the light went out - right at the point of closest approach. For a few minutes I thought I had lost it and was hallucinating, but fortunately the light came back on. These kind of mind games are common for me at night.
As the sun came up, we were passing Pt Arguello and heading towards Pt Conception. A major milestone was about to be passed. The southern California basin is quite different from the rest of the West Coast of the US. The basin is more protected from the North Pacific high and markedly warmer. It has been said sailors shed their layers when they round Pt Conception and I did as well. All of the sudden it felt like I had way too many clothes on.
Pt Conception just after sunrise
We had hours to go to Santa Barbara but enjoyed the views of the arid coastline and the whales and dolphins we saw along the way. We listened to boats get chased out of the closure zones for a mid-day launch out of Vandenberg Air Force base.
And then we got to Santa Barbara. It didn’t quite happen like that - but it felt like it did. We had to motor down much of this part of the coast and watching oil platform after oil platform go by.
We slid into a slip just big enough for us and were very grateful for the helpful staff at the Marina for helping us find a spot. We got lucky and are positioned right on the most active alley of an already active marina. I am amazed at how many boats are coming in and out and how every square inch in the basin is used. The view back onto the mountains really captures the feeling of the place.
Santa Ynez Mountains from Santa Barbara Harbor