The Journey, Not the Destination

It’s 3:45 am. Our car is loaded. Both of my Bark paddleboards were lashed on last night. After the alarm goes off, I do easy yoga-based stretches, eat a light breakfast, fix coffee for DeeAnn, and we’re on the road shortly after 4. We drive to Monterey to meet Paul, who shows up only about a minute after we do. Paul had to work last night and has had little sleep. We all say ‘hi’, Paul crawls into the back seat of our car and after exchanging a few words, I suggest he might like to sleep on the way up. He has similar plans.
 

The drive to Santa Cruz is quiet. We notice some kind of event being set up in Moss Landing. That turned out to be the well-attended annual Antique Fair.

We arrive at Santa Cruz Municipal pier at 5:40 a.m. As we get our boards and ourselves ready, I see a familiar Eaton paddleboard seemingly floating in the dark across Cowell Beach. Phil Curtis is right on time. I call Mike Roberts, who has spent the night with his dad, Dale, on Mike’s boat, Sjøfugl, to let them know we have arrived. Mike lets me know he’s the furthest boat out from us, lights on.

[Click on photos to enlarge, hit <esc> to return]

A Sjøfugl, our boat's namesake

DeeAnn snaps a few shots of us, we do some stretches, and as we pick up our paddleboards, I joke this will be a Le Mans start (involves running to your race vehicle) – a stunt played on us by the organizers of the Bay Crossing in 2010.

Early. Phil's board is faintly apparent.

Paul, unzipping

Waking up. Even the boards are yawning.

Paul Wettereau, me, Phil Curtis

Paul. Ready.

As we get our boards wet, DeeAnn calls Mike to let him know we’re on our way.  He says, "I know, I can see them."

We pause at the boat to check in. Paul and Phil deliver their dry bags with dry clothes for later. Each of us has extra gear on the boat and Mike was ready to take paddleboards on the boat, “just in case.”  

We talk about our planned course, then go.

Days before, we all had a map of the 2010 Bay Crossing Course. The line from the start was straight South to the M1 Buoy near the deepest part of the Monterey Bay canyon. From there, a slight left turn to a South-Southeast heading is needed to land on Monterey’s Del Monte Beach, next to Wharf 2. The line is designed to take into account calm winds early with prevailing northwest winds later. By delaying the turn off the Southerly line, paddlers get the push from the northwest winds home. The total distance is about 28 miles.

Today, we are starting with no appreciable winds, and it gets perfectly glassy as we go. A light Southwest wind was predicted, but the small, short period northwest swell makes the planned route nearly as appealing as when northwest winds are expected.

But somehow the idea of going out south-southwest creeps into our conversation and so we head out. It doesn’t fully register with any of us early on in our paddle that we should not be able to see the Wilder Coast at any time over our right shoulders.

And while we can see coastline over our right shoulders, we can see little past Pleasure Point to our left, due to the haze.

As we paddle, we talk. I’m not the world’s greatest conversationalist, but I’m truly enjoying hearing Paul's and Phil's discussion. The paddle is turning out to be great fun in glassy conditions.

These photos show the glassy conditions, and also how gray and how limited our visibility was.

Five miles into the paddle, we take a break. Paul and Phil swallow a gel each. I gave those up, as they didn’t agree with me. I’m now using something that goes into my water bottle instead, with coconut milk and vitamin C added.  I have already done two 27-mile paddles with this solution in the last months, and it works for me all day long.

The sea life we spot include a whale and a few albatross. Later, we see a sizable flock and watch the awkward ballet that is the albatross’s way of getting to flight. The feet are “running” the whole time, and it seems to take forever to gain enough altitude to make redundant the takeoff and landing gear.

Everything is gray, yet there is contrast. Each of us in turn remarks how deep the water feels. Somebody remarks that Frosty Hesson's character in the Chasing Maverick's movie was right when he called this a "deep blue abyss".  We all agree. I also feel the isolation, the distance from everything familiar. There is a quiet power. This is a whole ‘nother world that seems benign now, but each of us knows better.

Some of our chatter involves calling out headings by three of us. There is a compass mounted on the Sjøfugl, one on Phil’s paddleboard and a page on my GPS.

In spite of our vigilant attention to our indicators, and partly because we can no longer see land, we wind up pretty far west. The only active map we have is my GPS with its tiny screen and roughly drawn map.

I had learned on a previous paddle to be wary of hand-held GPS maps. When approaching Santa Cruz Island on the way to the 2011 Island-to-Island paddle, our boat's crew member with the greatest sense of humor was at the helm when he stopped all forward progress about nine miles before reaching our objective, which was in full sight. When questioned by the captain, the mischievous mate responded: “The GPS says we’ve arrived.”

21 miles into our paddle, I am able to zoom in the GPS map so that I can begin to judge our position relative to Monterey Bay’s southern terminus, Point Piños. I know from many paddles that it’s four miles between Point Piños and Del Monte Beach. At about 21 miles into the paddle, I am getting the sense that the remaining portion of our paddle to Point Piños is significantly greater than that 4-mile final stretch. And we still are not seeing land. And we have seen zero fishing boats. All clues.

Still a little unsure of what I’m seeing, I call Paul and Phil over to the boat. We sit on our paddleboards, Mike stands above on the Sjøfugl.  I show them the map and tell them what I think I’m seeing.  My own vision of stepping onto Del Monte sand begins quickly fading. We agree that, yes, it looks from the GPS map like it’s going to be longer than we have time for, and a south wind is beginning to make the course a little rough.

We all agree to hand two of our paddleboards up to Mike and attach a rope to Phil’s to drag it home. But Paul kiddingly says he’s just paddling back. We all climb in the boat and busy ourselves pulling on dry shirts and coats for the trip home. Mike lashes down the paddleboards on the deck.  Dale moves forward to make sure the front of the paddleboards don’t hit anything.

Our paddle is over at 22 miles.

Next, Paul calls DeeAnn to let her and Lindsay (Paul’s wife) know when to expect us. He reassures her everyone is safe.

“Just in case” has happened. But our friendly chatter never stops. We talk about how we might have gotten so far west. The stories continue to flow. The most impressive part is how positive everyone stays.  The south wind strengthens some. The paddle would have increased in difficulty, but not beyond our abilities. Paul asks if I’m going to blog. I say I don’t know for sure if I will, but deadpan that I might call it “Don’t Go West, Young Man.”

Paul is mindful of Dale and relieves him up front.

Finally, we spot land – the Monterey Peninsula stretching from Point Piños to Pescadero Point. After we pass the Point Piños buoy, a whale breaches near a whale-watch boat. Surface conditions mostly smooth out. We pass Lover’s Point, Hopkins Marine Station, Cannery Row, San Carlos Beach, and round the Coast Guard Jetty. We’re home.

Once alongside Wharf 2, Mike spots a ladder Paul can use for his exit. It’s not an easy approach. Phil’s board wanders into the outboard as the boat comes about. Ouch. Then a commercial fishing boat approaches to unload, possibly needing to take up the space in front of the ladder Mike was aiming for. Mike moves well out of its way and spots another ladder, and has to call off some fishermen with lines in the water standing on the pier above. Then the first ladder becomes available after all, so Mike swings around and heads back. Mike approaches, then he and Phil grab the ladder.

Approaching Wharf 2, Monterey

L to R: Phil Curtis, Captain Mike Roberts, Paul Wettereau

First Mate, Dale Roberts

About 14 miles and 2 ½ hours after we had all boarded the Slöfugl, Paul disembarks by way of that ladder attached to the pier.   He collects his wallet, keys & phone from Lindsay and sprints up the wharf, conscious of getting to work on time.

Had we paddled the whole way, it would have added up to 36 miles – a distance that would keep us out much longer than we had time for today.  And while we didn’t accomplish our intended Bay crossing, we have paddled the waters outside Monterey Bay, an unforgettable blue water paddle.

Now it’s time to head into the harbor for the ramp. After tying up and offloading paddleboards and gear, Mike begins the process of trailering the boat, along with Dale and Kay (Mike’s mom) – no small amount of work.

Kay Roberts. So long!

I walk past Phil on the way to my car with my board. I am inspired to offer: “Phil, I only have one thing to say:” followed by uncontrollable laughter. He joins in.