We'd done some preparation in June; with getting a few new sheets, removing a couple of sharp hooks in the cockpit, and removing extra gear that had been sold to us by a very nice couple who'd had to sell their boat after 30 years of happy memories in her.
The previous week we'd taken the Spinnaker sail to the boat just in case Penny was feeling especially adventuress on the 4th. We had also gotten our new Tohatsu motor mounted after testing her in a trash barrel at home. The wind was up, prompting us to test the motor as well as the theory that Don had read, (or did he hear it?) that sailing in a good breeze can be accomplished handily with just a jib.
That turned out to be a bigger adventure than we'd planned in fact. With a new motor, a current and a wind all introducing themselves to us for the first time, we became dockside entertainment.
Our intent was to ease out of slip # 4, hiney first, aimed East, bringing the bow to face West, from whence the wind and current flowed, but within the first minute of becoming a two man (ok. ok, two person) sailing team, we found ourselves at cross purposes with our Eastern neighbor's boat which, being unoccupied, had no inclination to leave port however much Sadalsuud tugged. Like a couple wearing braces, the boats had managed to lock jaws, with our anchor, then secured to our bow pulpit, having slipped over the other boat's bow pulpit as we drifted into it, and then caught hold as we tried to move away. My attempts at lifting the anchor above the other boat's chrome banister to free the hook were hindered by my weight pushing the bow (and therefore the anchor) down. As the Eastern neighbor, just the other side of the offending boat, looked on, I self consciously laughed and, grunting with effort, managed something to the effect of "This would probably be easier if I wasn't counteracting my efforts with my own weight on the bow. This anchor needs to go UP, not down." Don, unable to see why I was taking so long, and probably hearing the grunts but not the words within them, offered to trade places. "But then," I grunted, "won't your presence on the bow counter your attempts?" At this point the nice neighbor appeared to realize that, simple as it looked from his perspective, I wasn't going to succeed, and probably seeing that Don hoped to conquer the anchor himself, shouted that he'd be right there and for me to return to the cockpit. I follow instructions better than I lift anchors.
In one quick motion the boats disentangled and, free at last, we drifted swiftly right for his boat to which he beat a hasty retreat. A second man appeared on his boat announcing how happy he was to get to use his new boat hook. A gentle shove just in time and now we're being pushed, again by wind and current, into a dock behind us. Here we encountered a mini skirt clad woman who appeared prepared to be a dock bumper. Don asked her to be careful where-upon she announced that she knew what she was doing. Well, that's more than we've got right now. (No, we didn't say that.) Rescue Man announced, "OK, give it more power now to get control." I seriously thought about how relieved I'd be to just head back into that slip and call it a day, but Don was giving it more gas so I bit my tongue (no, not literally).
As we approached the intersecting canal into which we needed to turn left, our path was crossed by a zippy little motorized rubber boat entering the same canal from the opposite direction. As we approached the channel, we encountered the same boat again, floating stationary mid-canal as the occupants made ready to photograph a little seal, also mid-canal. Probably not until they realized we were unstoppable (as in, "how do you stop this thing?") did they scoot off to the side, cringing (like us) in hopes the seal would also duck out of our path.
Headed West now on a path that winds in a U-turn approach to sea, we encountered more threats but made our way to sea unscathed. The wind felt a bit strong...in fact I was making an uneducated guess of 25 knots, due to the signs my manual told me to watch for, but in fact, when we returned and Don checked with his blackberry, the report said Dana Point had winds of 10 miles per hour. I think the report was wrong. It did deflate my estimate, but 10 mph? I think 15 knots at least. (BTW, miles per hour & knots are not synonymous, knots are actually slightly less because there are more feet in a knot than in a mile---[1 knot = 1 nautical mile per hour = 6076 feet per hour, 1 mph =1 mile per hour = 5280 feet per hour]).
At any rate, after tossing about on the sea with a scare or two as buoys and jetties threatened to attack us, and the jib tried to throw Don off the bow while he struggled to furl it with a line apparently too short to finish the job, we safely returned.
I'll post the "videos" I took in the harbor before and after our excursion, but keep in mind that the harbor is protected...when you get beyond the breakwater the wind is stronger. ('Video' is in quotes because that was the word for taped films...digital motion pictures need a new word in my opinion.)
Well, sorry. I'd begun to tell you about July 4th, but diverted a bit and never got back...I guess that will have to be the next post.
Before Excursion
After Excursion
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