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Seven Days, Twelve Hours



Departed San Francisco Bay Sunday morning 6:00 AM. We turned south at the first set of buoys. By noon Half Moon Bay was off our stern. The rest of the lighted hours of the day were spent watching the humpback whales. The whole day was spent spotting pods. Some whales came so close we could smell their breath. The rattle of their lungs exhaling shook us. Their need to breathe after holding their breath while submerged was empathically written into our terrestrial based imaginations. Even a whale’s breathing is no small feat. .

Shearwaters, gulls, and pelicans were spotted. Sea lions were hunting along the entire route as we motor-sailed five to eight miles offshore. We hadn’t counted on running the motor so long. When darkness took hold we diverted chasing a forlorn red flashing light across the bay to Monterey.


Buoy as Spirit Guide

Night fell as the seas kicked up. All we had to hold onto was the light from Point Piedras Blancas. Our plunging ahead on compass course, the blackest of nights, not another vessel appearing either on our horizon or electronics was a way of the gods telling us that we had this piece of coast to ourselves. Whatever we found was what we deserved. We had played right into fates hands.

nav desk

Knowing Who and Where You Are

An hour from the anchorage at San Simeon we began bending our course to where two weary mariners would sleep. Slowing as we approached the shallows. Dodging kelp reading the lighted marks to the diminutive safe protected anchorage we dropped our hook and once she bit hold the longest day came to an end. We were forty-five hours south of our departure. Sleeping in shifts along the way. But, by now we needed dreams to sweep our minds clear. I took a few compass bearings to orient the sailboats position. Once I was sure she wasn’t going to move my  chance to take of myself and let my boat take care of me turned to my advantage and I placed my weary sailors body on my bunk and was soon long gone and away.


Edited Red Star

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