Marina residents

The connection with nature is so much more evident when you live close to the sea. There is a pair of osprey nesting in our marina. They’ve taken over the top of a mast on a 50-foot sailboat two docks to the east and the agreement is that the boat will not move until they’ve hatched their brood and the fledglings are on their own. How that arrangement came about is a history that we are not familiar with, but the pair has returned to the same mast in the same slip for several years running. We watched them building the nest the first days we were here, early in November, wondering if the “pick-up-sticks” school of structural engineering would succeed. It did, as it has for centuries in osprey-fashion. Now we have all settled into the waiting and watching phase. Periodically, one bird will perch in a nearby boat rigging, calling to its mate, a sharp, harsh cry. The response from the nest is more muted. With so much in the balance, they are sparing with their words.

Snapping Shrimp

Snapping shrimp can drive you crazy. The noise starts abruptly, and if you are at anchor in a secluded cove, far from mechanics or boat yards or someone with an explanation for that “crinkly, snap-crackle-pop noise” coming from somewhere deep in the hull, the first time you hear it can be quite disconcerting (Can it be water? Is there a leak somewhere? Did rats get in last time we were docked up? Are they chewing through the insulation or wiring? Did that bird that was hitching a ride find its way into the storage lockers? What IS that noise!?). Turns out it is only a shrimp, Alpheus heterochaelis, capturing its dinner, defending its territory, or just talking with its mates. According to Detlef Lohse, Michel Versluis (University of Twente in Enschede, The Netherlands) and Barbara Schmitz of the Technical University of Munich, Germany (Nature, October 4, 2001), the shrimp snaps its large claw together with such force that a jet of water, traveling at speeds up to 100 kilometers an hour (62 mph), creates a bubble that implodes with the heat of the sun (probably up to 5000 degrees Kelvin [8540 degrees Fahrenheit]) and a green flash (the researchers have dubbed the flash shrimpoluminescence). It’s the implosion* that causes the snapping noise we hear, and the power it generates stuns the shrimp’s prey—small crabs or other shrimp. There are over 100 varieties of this shrimp prowling the tropics, lunching on other crustaceans, interrupting sonar on submarines, or creating puzzles for new cruisers.

*The physics of the process involve cavitation, where liquid moving above a certain speed causes a drop in pressure, allows air bubbles in it to expand, and, when it slows, results in the bubbles imploding and creating a shock wave (Bernoulli’s principle).

Internet Access

Internet access in San Diego is difficult to find. Our marina does not have any, several places list it but it's not working, so we have found "Chez Dunn Cafe" (bring your own coffee) to be the hottest spot in town. Chez Dunn offers a number of other attractions, too, not least of which is "Cool Miles," the latest arrival to the family business.

Our actual route from San Francisco to San Diego. Our trip down the California coast was our “shake-down” trial, a time to get used to the creaks, noises, and idiosyncracies of boat systems; to refine our navigational skills; and to develop a working team among the crew. This last job is the tough one. Despite our 40-plus years together, the challenge of life in the middle of the sea with things unfamiliar, things going wrong that mystify us both, and a definite feeling (especially for Ardy) of lack of control, hampers the development of teamwork. We’ve found the best thing for it is to let each other know how we are feeling. Her: “I’m scared spitless when I have to drive the boat to anchor into a 20 knot wind with two boats already anchored just in front of us and the rocks less than a hundred meters off the port bow.” Him: “You have lots of room, just relax, goose it a little when you need more helm and back off when you get it lined up, and stop worrying.” Each day it becomes clearer that comfort comes with experience and practice, and with it a refocusing from tension and anxiety to the cruising itself.

Kayak adventure

Adventure for the day: We anchored in Smuggler’s Cove and chatted with fellow cruisers, also at anchor, about their dinghy ride into shore, a hike up the road to an old adobe ranch house, and the view from the top of the hill. They encouraged us to check it out. So, after lunch, we dropped the kayaks in the water and paddled toward land, only to find breaking surf waiting for us (really, we couldn’t see how big it was from the boat!). Despite our best efforts at good timing, we were flipped and dumped and dragged ourselves and the now water-and-pebble-laden kayaks up on the shingle. We squelched our way up the road to see the house, built in 1895 with a unique sundial above the entry door, and back—more focused on how to get through the surf than the history of Santa Cruz Island, sad to say. It turns out there was a pattern: two big waves, a five second pause, followed by two small waves, followed by a pause of 10 seconds or so. I just caught the lip of the last small wave, and was safely beyond the surf. Marv was late getting into the 10-second pause and took both big waves head-on. Fortunately, he was 90 degrees to them, paddling like crazy, rode through them and safely into deep water. We discovered that the kayaks still go when they are full of water, though they don’t track quite as well. A warm, fresh-water “tea-cup” shower on board Odyssey followed our swim. And our appreciation for the pattern, rhythm, and power of this world keeps growing.

Whales

North of Point Arguella, motoring in calm waters with marine fog that is just beginning to break up (in an hour or two, we will be left with blue skies and rising winds), we pass through a pod of a dozen or so whales. We think they are humpbacks, but they may be blues. The small parts we see—a dorsal fin, a spout and arched back, a fluke tossed back—leave us with an impression of immensity and the realization that we are superficial visitors, just skimming the surface in their world.

Moro Bay

This has to be the coolest bar in the world!

And the Moro Bay Yacht Club is most welcoming! Good people, good food, good advice, quick hands on the dock lines. Many thanks to them!