Executive Summary

    The fish won 3-0-1, capturing three five dollar lures in what they regarded as minimal competition. Neptune  conscripted a FX 37 Fortress anchor when a spliced anchor rode (rope) let go. An errant halyard (also a rope), which was then routed through Ann's waving hand, unseated a pair of my eye glasses that plopped into the drink just as I asked her what she was doing. But the price of experience was cheap compared to the benefits. We met numerous fascinating and helpful people and saw California as it existed 200 years ago.  We learned a little bit about our equipment and the care and feeding of a sailboat as live aboards. New firsts were set in many categories. For example, after I fell somewhat short on my promise (on June 18 our 33rd wedding anniversary) to catch a fish for supper, Ann fixed Tuna Helper. Really.  It was not punitive. But it was a first.

            Geography

    The Channel Islands consist of 4 islands that run east- west about 25 to 40 miles south of Santa Barbara, California. These islands are included in the Channel Island National Park and Marine sanctuary. There are three other islands to the south, one of which is included in the Park, and then there  is Santa Catalina.... remember 26 miles across the sea? The northern islands provide exciting sailing at this time of year because the prevailing weather pattern produces winds out of the west northwest at 20-25 knots each day in the afternoon. Mornings are calm, and about every third day there are gale forecasts of winds up to 35 knots. The far western island, San Miguel, is largely unprotected by the Santa Ynez mountains on the mainland and has much more rugged terrain, al with higher winds. We had unseasonably cold weather with temperatures hitting the 50s each day, without much sun. Much to our surprise, summer had already started in Catalina and San Diego when we got here.

    The  Chumash Indians occupied the islands for 10,000 years without upsetting the ecology. They traded baskets made from sea grass, fish, abalone, and skins, and used the sea grass for fish nets. They made 12-20 foot planked canoes to travel to the mainland for trade and hunting. They dried and traded abalone for centuries, but unfortunately, abalone is no longer available in California.

        In 1542 Juan Cabrillo claimed the islands for Spain. When he was anchored at San Miguel Island, he broke is leg and it is believed that he died on the island. Rumor has it that he is buried there, but in any event there is a humble monument to him.

    Spain colonized the area by sending missionaries to defend the area and make the Chumash into Christians.  The Chumash were a friendly people and in the comparatively short time frame bought the Church and lost the farm, together with their cultural identity. There are apparently a few Chumash on the reservations in Southern California, so they are not totally extinct.  

        The Sailing

    The islands span about 60 miles east to west. After a sail of 25 miles from Ventura or Santa Barbara, the voyages from island to island are not arduous. The wind bends around Point Conception and venturis to produce what is locally referred to as Windy Lane on the north side of the islands. We motored to the west in the relatively calm mornings and sailed downwind to the east in the afternoons going back. Swells and wind waves would build to about 12 feet, which was big in our experience, and we were quite pleased to have a heavy (25 tons.) boat.

    For us, the larger challenge was trying to be comfortable at anchor. We either had high winds (30-35 knots) where the boat sailed back and forth on the anchor, or swells that seem to come in on our beam and rolled us repeatedly, and that made sleeping bumpy. Because so much of  our sailing has been in areas of modest trade winds, or coral reefs which cut the swell, maybe we were spoiled. Several adventures stand out in the sailing/landing/anchoring categories.

            My glasses

    After a couple of tries, we were able to use the main halyard (the rope that runs to the top of the mast to pull the sail up) to lift our 10 horse outboard onto the back of the dinghy.  I held the motor away from banging into the boat while Ann winched the halyard. After setting the outboard back on the aft rail like pros, Ann walked back to check the lines. Her halyard had become entangled with another line coming from the top of the mast. So she just flicked it, like twirling a jump rope. It just flicked me in the face, just like a jump rope, and flicked my glasses right into the drink. I looked at her and asked what she was doing when she flicked me again! Then she asked, "Why are you looking so funny at me?" Of course, she looked like a Monet painting to me. Since Ann doesn't like to be cold and accordingly declined to dive for them, the glasses remain where they landed. 

        I swim anyway

    I take no small amount of pride in my ability to operate an outboard motor. When we were kids on Fountain Lake in Albert Lea, a 10 horse outboard was just an extension of my arm. We had recently used our inflatable dinghy a fair amount without the motor, but in a  harbor at San Miguel Island we decided to motor ashore. I noticed that the dinghy had lost a little air, but was not concerned. I even rationalized that I had overfilled it in the first place. San Miguel has six species of pinnipeds, or seals and sea lions. About 40 of them were on the beach where we planned to land. They were just lazily flipping sand on each other and watching the tourists. As I approached the beach, I tried to time the incoming swell. I determined that if I just added a little power to the engine as we were on the crest of the small swell as it gently rolled onto the beach, the dinghy would go scooting forward and thereby reduce the amount of pulling we had to do to keep it from going back out to sea with the tide. What a great plan!

    The approach looked good. The sea lions were at a safe distance and not paying attention. The swell was gentle. Our speed was low. At precisely the right moment I added ever so little power to the outboard. Well, it may have been a bit much. We crested the wave just as the dingy buckled in the middle because the stern was trying to go faster than the bow.  Ann said, "Oh! Jeff!" as if I still had control. She claims I catapulted by her as she and the boat continued ashore. While I questioned her perception, I was in no position to dispute it. I didn't see how I could go from a point looking ahead at the sandy beach to being totally dunked so fast. I stood up in the water and watched the dinghy, motor still running, take Ann ashore. Despite my early exit,  I maintain that it wasn't too bad of a landing. Anyway, I figured no one other than sea lions (without e-mail capability) witnessed my debacle. I was disappointed to learn 15 minutes later that some folks from the Alaska Eagle, a training boat from Orange Coast College, got quite a chuckle as they watched the whole event unfold. 

        The "faag"    

    Another bit of excitement occurred when we returned to Santa Barbara to visit Lee Carr and civilization. The automated weather forecaster kept forecasting locally dense patches of "faag". Since the forecaster recently became the voice of a computer, he (or it) doesn't have all of his pronunciation quite down. (It actually has an Arnold Schwartznager accent.) "Faag" sounds funny and even when we were surrounded by it in anchorages, we laughed at both the fog and Arnold's pronunciation.  We set out for Santa Barbara in a good 20 knot wind on the beam for a lively sail. The locally dense faag just sat on us and didn't lift on the same schedule as earlier blankets had. About that time we sailed into traffic separation lanes, which are designed to keep northbound freighters from hitting southbound freighters. On went the radar. We dodged one freighter astern (southbound) and two off our bow(northbound). Visibility was about a mile or so, and we found that hairy. Freighters move about 20-24 knots and although that doesn't seem fast, they look like giant ghosts at a distance of a mile or two in the fog. And, they move faster than you think they can move.  Although we think they maintain a watch and monitor radar, they really can't see a sailboat very well, and can't and won't maneuver much to avoid them. Giving freighters and warships wide berth has always been a fundamental part of our sailing strategy.  We had some previous exposure to using radar in a class and Ann  had experience the using radar on her trip from Hawaii. Also, we had been regularly playing with radar in daylight so it we had an idea how it was supposed to work. Nevertheless, three "ghost ships" at a distance of a couple of miles seemed like quite enough for awhile. 

    The People

    Fantastic people helped us along the way starting with Sue and Richard Watson in Alamitos Bay. They introduced us to the Ventura Isle Marina folks who treated us like royalty. Shirley and Keith Christianson gave us good tips on fishing and a ride to the laundromat.  We again ran into George from Bagus! who introduced us to Lisa and Greg, who gave us yet another briefing on anchorages in the islands and fishing. Lisa , smitten with the sailboat pendant Ann made for me commissioned Ann to make a compass rose pendant for Greg. Ann's artistry may gain notoriety beyond the family! Neil, a boat repairman from the old school helped us with our repair problems and advised us to jettison our Taiwanese built wrenches, even at the risk of paying a fine for polluting. Craftsman tools from Sears were the only tools acceptable to Neil. He declined to use ours once even when it meant walking from the boat to the shop to get a Sears  wrench.    

    On San Miguel Island we learned from Julie, a  National Park Service biologist, that the number of miniature foxes fell from 415 to 25 in just two years. Although they first thought that the return of bald and golden eagles accounted for the house cat sized fox disappearing, parasites now are the suspected culprit. Aaron, an ornithologist, studies Cassin's auklet, a little grey sea bird that eats krill. Aaron's environmental group studies the breeding habits of the bird to help make judgments about the status of krill, because so many other sea creatures rely on krill for food. He provides boxes for the auklets to use to breed in that allow outsiders to peer in, sort of like a voyeur in a department store dressing room. So far no complaints, however. We talked to fishermen who explained their tough existence and warned us to be wary of the park rangers. The only folks we knew before setting out, Lee and Beverly Carr, gave us a tour of The Lone Star Ranch, their new property in Santa Barbara County. The beauty of the place takes your breath away. I suspect that Texas won't see much of them from now on.  

    The Whales

    We drew upon local knowledge ( the most valuable asset available to a cruising sailor) to find the whales. They dove for krill in about 2000 feet of water in the Santa Barbara Channel, where the cold arctic water of the California current meets the warm Southern California water. We stayed a comfortable distance from about two dozen humpback and a couple of blue whales as they spouted and occasionally flashed their tail before deep dives. The quiet whoosh and then gentle roll when they dive humbles one. We knew we only saw about 20% of their bulk each time they spouted and dove.

    The Fish

        I had visions of frying and eating fresh caught fish as we had when we were kids on the Gunflint Trail in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area in Northern Minnesota. I bought a fishing license and got some lures. Patience was on my side. After no activity, I began to analyze the situation. Perhaps I should take the price tags off the lures, lest the fish think I am a rookie. No,hell, they already knew that. Perhaps I should only fish when the pelicans did, since they seemed to be having greater success. But  they seemed to fish nearly all the time, except when they sat on and whitewashed a rock. Yes, I even tried that. One day I put Aunt Lucy's hot sauce and peanut butter on the lure. Nothing seemed to attract much attention. Then, one day using a Krocodile, which looked just like the Daredevil I used on the Gunflint Trail, I got a strike. It was a huge fish! And, all he did was wiggle his head and he was gone. The line was dead.

    I got two more strikes. The second lasted only a few seconds longer than the first. Then I discovered that there is a brake on my $38.95 rod and reel. So I tuned that rig for the next hapless fish. The next time I got one, Ann even saw it. This wise finny denizen wound my line three times around the anchor chain, and then just wiggled his head, nicely separating  himself, the lure, and my monfilament from the reel and certain supper. I figured that the little bastard had to have been coached on that move. 

    Finally, when were sat at anchor in a harbor full of boats on Santa Catalina Island, I noticed fish were jumping all around us. I fired up my rig and let go with a couple of casts. On the third cast, I brought in a 10 inch bass. Since he was less than half the size the size limit, he avoided supper. But I conclude that this undersized fish is an omen which demonstrates that the jinx has passed, and that next time out there will be fish on the grill for sure.