Sierra Sue Hushaw, Asleep in Our Hearts

I wonder if it will be raining… should I pack a dress? Does this outfit go together? is black too cliche? As I attempted to piece together outfits to shove into my duffle bag I asked myself what I wanted to be wearing when I said goodbye to my best friend.

It was 2:30 on Thursday when my dad called me, from somewhere along the northbound I-5. He was speaking slowly, calmly, trying not to let the sound of sadness escape with his words. “Sierra is sick. I think this is the end.” I choked on my words as I tried to find an appropriate response. Scrambling to find an appropriate response I finally said “I’ll be home tonight” before calling Chris to give him the news.

After quickly disinfecting my work desk and shutting down my computer I jumped in my Subaru and drove to the boatyard where Avocet has been residing on stilts as we prepare to paint her bottom and topsides. Chris had been working hard all day on the boat, and it showed. Dust from the blue bottom paint freckled his cheeks making him look like a large smurf or a rejected member of the blue man group. Regardless of the boat residue that coated him, I buried my head into his chest and opened the floodgate of tears. He held me while I sobbed, then led me up the ladder to inside the boat so I could pack for our trip north.

If you have made it this far you have probably realized that this entry has virtually nothing to do with Avocet itself but instead, it’s crew. Writing has always been a cathartic way for me to work through my thoughts and emotions while also documenting pivotal points in my life. Maybe someday my great-grandchildren (if I should be so fortunate) will read my work and realize that not only was great-grandma pretty freakin’ cool, but she was a human with thoughts and emotions, maybe even similar to their own. I’ll put the hypothetical grand kiddos away now as we get back to the purpose of this blog entry: saying goodbye to my best friend.

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Sierra with her pheasant

The 4-hour drive north to Santa Cruz was quiet despite Chris’s attempts to comfort me. We pulled into the driveway of my childhood home and knocked on the door where I braced myself for an onslaught of emotions. Before my dad could finish opening the door, two golden noses pocked through the crack with wiggling butts behind them. My dad had to pull our 4-year-old Golden Retriever named Stormy to the side so Sierra could greet us. Barely able to stand, Sierra, wiggled her frail body towards us then collapsed at our feet doing her best to roll over so we could pet her belly. “That is the most we have seen her move in a few days,” my dad said, again trying to hold back his tears.

Now I know that everyone says that they have “the best dog in the world” and to be honest, they are all right. Every dog is special, but if you ever had the pleasure of meeting our sweet Sierra Sue you would know just how special she truly is. At nearly 11 years old, my sweet girl watched me grow up. She was there waiting for me after the worst days of elementary school, she was a constant during my confusing high school years, and she was even there when I settled into my college dorm in Lake Tahoe. After all the stages of schooling, Sierra took her place as the “Dog of Honor” at me and Chris’s wedding in 2018.

While writing this (trying to decide what my next paragraph should be) I am stuck on memory lane. I remember when we picked Sierra up from Red Tail Goldens where we met her littermates and mama before taking her home to her new life at the beach. She grew up to love the beach and her tennis balls (especially when paired together) and could last body surfing the waves longer than the average human surfer. At the end of the day when we were tired of throwing the ball, she would always give us the look of just one more? before playing one of her other favorite games catch me if you can, I’m not leaving this beach. 

When the last day came we were together again as a family to give our Sierra one last super fun day before helping her over the rainbow bridge. As happy as she was to see Chris and me, she was 5 times as happy to see the beach. Despite being thin and frail from malnutrition (she stopped eating and drinking due to her aggressive cancer) she rallied and pranced down the beach – her beach – all the way to the water where she waited for us to throw the ball. Although disappointed in our weak “throws” she chased after her beloved tennis ball and brought it back. She stopped, flopped, and tried to burry her ball when I decided to sit beside her and watch the waves. All down the beach there were dogs and their doting owners running and walking just as we had for 11 years with our sweet Sierra. Chris, being the incredible husband he is, snapped a few photos of our family as we huddled around her and poured all of our love out to her, there on the cold sand.

As much as it broke our hearts to say “let’s go home” we knew it was time. Sierra reluctantly trotted by us, ball in mouth, and my parents helped her back into the truck. The next 4 hours (her final 4 hours) she laid next to the couch where I stayed by her petting her and telling her how much she meant to me. We all took turns adoring our sweet golden girl and she used all her energy to reciprocate the love with nudges and occasional paw-5’s. At 5:00 p.m. the vet (Mark) texted my dad to let us know he was on his way. Emotions once again flooded over us and my brother was the first to say his goodbyes. I couldn’t keep myself from crying as he held her precious head in his hands and said a prayer that “God watches over [his] buddy” … I was a mess and so was everyone else. Stormy came and sniffed “goodbye” to her big sister then joined my brother for a drive while the rest of us waited for Mark to arrive which would lead to the peak of my emotional distraught.

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coolest pup around

“It’s just something new guys,” Mark said as Sierra ate 8 treats out of his hand “I promise, it’s just because it’s something new” he continued to ensure us as we exchanged looks of confusion and shock with each other. Sierra hadn’t eaten in days, so watching her eat was like a spark of hope inside, but was soon smothered when Mark’s words proved true. Just as Chris went to give her a treat she took one sniff, and laid back down completely uninterested and seemingly defeated. Her spine and hip bones protruded like sharp peaks under her golden feathered coat. Although I had just met Mark I could tell he was a very caring vet. He was gentle about the whole process, being very transparent and sympathetic during our time of grief. Chris and I helped Mark apply the sedative before I looked Sierra in the eyes and told her I loved her as she melted onto the floor. We spent the next 5 minutes petting, hugging, and telling Sierra what she meant to us.

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In all my life I have only seen my dad cry twice; once when my great grandmother passed away and second when Sierra passed. After the euthanasia was given I held Sierra’s paw even after Mark had softly said: “she’s passed on, guys”. We assisted Mark in moving Sierra’s delicate body to the cloth gurney before Chris and Mark carried her down the stairs. My mom and I stood in our living room, holding each other and trying to process what had just happened. Soon, Stormy ran full speed up the stairs knocking over everything in sight, just as usual. My brother followed shortly behind her. Sadness hung over our family as we were together again, but missing a very important piece.

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Hushaw family photo circa 2011(?)

A knock at the door broke the silence of mourning and our dear friend Henry and his fiance Ella walked inside. Of course, they came with edible gifts (the best kind) and plenty of love to comfort our family in a time of need. Henry and Ella’s presence lightened the mood as we began to laugh and talk about their upcoming wedding. As the hours went by the pain still sat uncomfortably in my stomach; a sadness so deep it replaced the feeling of butterflies that once flew.

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Sierra with her little sister Stormy

That night as I laid in bed, Chris held me tight and combed my hair with his fingers helping empty my mind so I could sleep. Eventually, I did drift into a light sleep, only to be awoken by the dim morning light. It seemed so fitting that it was raining, it matched my mood to a T. After Chris and I packed up our car we as a family drove to Nisene Marks State Park (located 5 minutes from my house) to get some fresh air and find some sort of comfort in the coastal redwood trees. Stormy tugged on her fair lead leash, again trying to desperately prove she was alpha, except she had no competition. When the rain became uncomfortable, we turned back and said our goodbyes. Once again parting ways my family drove home and so did we.

It was a long drive back to Avocet, quieter than the last. Chris managed to get my input regarding our upcoming projects which were a pleasant distraction from the pain. We arrived home at 3:00 p.m. and didn’t hesitate to grab sanders as we got to work where we left off. Our friends The Howell’s stopped by a few hours later with their handsome service pup in training named Dempsey who just so happens to go give wonderful dog hugs. They shared their condolences as I tried to keep my brain and hands busy. Impressed by our work they wished us the best of luck and continued on their walk.

The dark encompassed me, provoking emotions of sorrow. I sat at the edge of our bed biting my lip in an attempt to keep my tears from overpowering me but eventually gave in as waterfalls of tears streamed down my face. Chris, who is no stranger to loss himself, was quick to scoop me up and comfort me. This became a pattern for the following week. Eventually, the tears stopped one night, and I don’t even remember when. What I do know is that I received an outpour of love and support from friends and family which did bring a warm blanket of comfort. One message from a total stranger on (Reddit of all places) stood above the rest:

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Snow dancing

“Dogs never die. They don’t know how to. They get tired, and very old, and their bones hurt. Of course they don’t die. If they did they would not want to always go for a walk, even long after their old bones say: ‘No, no, not a good idea. Let’s not go for a walk.’ Nope, dogs always want to go for a walk. They might get one step before their aging tendons collapse them into a heap on the floor, but that’s what dogs are. They walk.

However, dogs get very very sleepy. That’s the thing, you see. They don’t teach you that at the fancy university where they explain about quarks, gluons, and Keynesian economics. They know so much they forget that dogs never die. It’s a shame, really. Dogs have so much to offer, and people just talk a lot.

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Sierra with my bunny

When you think your dog has died, it has just fallen asleep in your heart. And by the way, it is wagging its tail madly, you see, and that’s why your chest hurts so much and you cry all the time. Who would not cry with a happy dog wagging its tail in their chest. Ouch! Wap wap wap wap wap, that hurts. But they only wag when they wake up. That’s when they say: ‘Thanks Boss! Thanks for a warm place to sleep and always next to your heart, the best place.’

When they first fall asleep, they wake up all the time, and that’s why, of course, you cry all the time. Wap, wap, wap. After a while they sleep more. (remember, a dog while is not a human while. You take your dog for walk, it’s a day full of adventure in an hour. Then you come home and it’s a week, well one of your days, but a week, really, before the dog gets another walk. No WONDER they love walks.)

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Sierra and I at my first (and last) cross country meet in 7th grade

Anyway, like I was saying, they fall asleep in your heart, and when they wake up, they wag their tail. After a few dog years, they sleep for longer naps, and you would too. They were a GOOD DOG all their life, and you both know it. It gets tiring being a good dog all the time, particularly when you get old and your bones hurt and you fall on your face and don’t want to go outside to pee when it is raining but do anyway, because you are a good dog. So understand, after they have been sleeping in your heart, they will sleep longer and longer

But don’t get fooled. They are not ‘dead.’ There’s no such thing, really. They are sleeping in your heart, and they will wake up, usually when you’re not expecting it. It’s just who they are.

Do you need a tissue? Because as comforting as that read was, it made me ball like a baby and I am not afraid to admit it. As hard it is to love something that death can touch, I will continue to love every day knowing that my sweet Sierra is asleep in my heart.

Thank you for reading my cathartic word vomit, it was difficult to write this and took me the better half of two and a half weeks to work through finding the right words to stick to the page. Chris and I have been working on Avocet while dealing with the curse of rain and of course the novel that is COVID-19. On a positive note: we have new videos coming your way soon! Here is a teaser of what’s to come: https://youtu.be/uG5DJoZ4sjAIMG_1637.jpg

Operation: Haul Out

Where to start, where to start… it has been a while since I have written a blog update and after a recent dinner with friends, I was inspired to put a pen to paper (well, fingers to keys) and write out what we have been up to lately. A lot has happened since our last blog entry; we ended up moving Avocet to Ventura which is much more convenient for boat projects as well as work purposes not to mention that Tthe boatyard is right next door, all of the supply shops we go to are nearby, and our new neighborhood is pretty freakin’ sweet! We do miss our old neighbors very much… but thankfully we are just a hop, skip and a jump away and can meet them at Toppers Pizza to catch up on the latest dock talk (Hi Sven, Nancy, Gene, Patti, Don, and Sarah! We miss you!)

I feel like after our New Years’ kiss I blinked and when I opened my eyes it was already March 1st- where has the time gone? January was spent settling into our new slip and getting ready for our latest project(s) while February was a huge project in itself with a sprinkle of birthday fun in the middle. Chris and I began remodeling our nav station to be a more functional and attractive part of our boat while simultaneously preparing for our haul out in March. Once the bones of the nav station were constructed, we pressed paused and changed course to prepping the exterior for our boatyard stay. Chris and I worked together to removed the lifelines, stanchions, pushpit, pulpit and of course the biggest pain of all: our toe rail.

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One of our stainless steel stanchions in a bronze base plate… a great example of dissimilar metal corrosion on our boat.

When we first bought Avocet, Chris and I knew the toe rail and stanchions were weak parts of the boat, which was especially annoying since it was a major source of leaks, contributing to the Cheoy “Leak” nickname. With that said, Chris had temporarily fixed the problem by doing a bead of TDS along the seam which did actually prevent most of the leaking. However, after we removed what was left of the 190 bolts that held the toe rail together, we realized just what we were in for.

Over the course of 40 years, the stainless carriage bolts fastened with bronze nuts had lost most of their structural integrity due to crevasse corrosion which was a direct result of dissimilar metals. A majority of the bolts broke off at deck level when we were removing the toe rail, while the rest had broken off sometime in the last 40 years. This discovery explained a lot about the minor leaking issue we had when we first bought the boat back in 2018. After removing 12-inch sections of our teak toe rail (plus 2 longer sections that our spinnaker/genoa track wasn’t letting go of) we boxed up the usable teak for a later project and continued to punch the broken bolts down through the deck so we could retrieve them down below – it reminded me of pulling rotten teeth! Once the bolts were removed, I had the fabulous job of learning how to contort my body to access small spaces and aluminum tape the holes from the inside so Chris could fill them with epoxy from above. This would be a good place to mention our deck to hull joint (DTHJ) was completely different from what we had originally thought. Due to the inner side of the deck to hull joint being glassed, Chris had suspected the outer side of the DTHJ to be glassed as well. However, that was not the case. An open seam was visible and although the old toe rail was probably not structurally reliable anymore, it appears that it was originally designed to be a part of the structure. With that said, we will be glassing the DTHJ during our boatyard stay to make it strong and replace the toe rail with bulwarks.

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When the epoxy was dry we washed off the deck for the first time in a long time and watched the water-poor over the side where a toe rail used to catch it. As we took a step back to look at our naked looking boat Chris and I shared mixed emotions about the month ahead. We knew we had a long list of projects that would be physically and mentally demanding while partnered with the stresses of living on the hard which is essentially like living in the desert during a Skrillex concert; no water, very dusty, and the sound of obnoxious (yet somehow rhythmic) power tools.

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The last week of February was spent crossing final items off our list. We removed our pedestal, both our quadrants and built a new emergency tiller all in preparation to drop our rudder as soon as we got hauled out so we could begin working on replacing all the bearings along with checking up on the rudder shoe and the packing gland (you know, the thing that’s supposed to keep water out of the bilge). I did my final tidying below deck in anticipation of a whirlwind to roll through our tiny home – hopefully, the mess won’t get too terribly bad.

March 3rd was our haul-out date and we woke up confident as well as a little anxious. Chris started the engine and I cast off the bow lines then jumped aboard as we used the emergency tiller to get out of our slip and over to the yard. Luckily, the boatyard was less than a football field away from our slip, which made it just a bit easier to back into the slip where they lifted Avocet out (which was scary)  before power washing what was left of her ablative paint from 15 years ago and blocking her in the far corner of the yard. I will save the details for the next blog which will be dedicated to our boatyard stay, but as I finish typing this we are sitting safely 9 feet above the ground nice and snug aboard our tree house boat anticipating the many days of work ahead.

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All 8+ Tons of our floating home, elevated above us.

Thank you for reading along and following our journey! We look forward to sharing Avocet 2.0 with you very soon. If you would live to come to help us with our projects, feel free to reach out!

Cheers!

~ Marissa, Chris, and Cleo ~

P.S. We are well stocked with beer (or juice) for helping hands.

 

Hello,​ Roaring 20s!

As I sit here attempting to encapsulate everything that happened over the span of 12 months, I feel like time passed by in a blink. I have spent the last weeks of 2019 and the beginning of 2020 trying to write this very blog. Usually, I am inspired by recent events and can not wait to pour my thoughts out onto the screen, but for some reason every time I sit down to collectively type about 2019, the enthusiasm leaves and I am left with a blank screen and a lack of motivation. Although typing and erasing my words doesn’t give the same satisfaction as crumpling up a page and tossing it into the wastebasket, I do find comfort in knowing that this year was so important to me that I want to write this blog as near to perfect as I can, no matter how many revisions. So, I guess let’s just jump on into it!

Our 2019 started off with a BANG as we danced into the New Year at China Peak Mountain Resort, our tradition going on 5+ years. The fireworks show lit up the night sky while Chris DJ’d the party, setting the mood for the new year. The week following New Years Day, I flew to Las Vegas, NV to attend the Consumer Technology Association (CES) Conference on behalf of one of my clients. It was incredible to be surrounded by so much technology and be introduced to new and exciting people, it was an experience I will not forget. As much as I was enjoying the conference and being back in the Silver State, I was pretty boat sick and missed my little family. When I touched down in Burbank, Chris was there flowers-in-hand waiting to take me back home. To wrap up January, Jon and Shannon flew home for Grandma Alice’s celebration of life. She had passed away on December 30th, 2018 at the age of 93 years old and was one of the sweetest women I have ever met in my life, who defined style and exuberance. In her honor, Mama Neely and Tess threw the most wonderful celebration of life with all of grandma’s friends and family. Jon and Shannon flew back for the occasion which excited us all to get some extra time with them before they returned back to work on their Hans Christian 33, Prism. While in the mountains, we were able to enjoy the fresh snow with some good friends, Mitch and Quincy who are the crew of S/V Esprit, a beautiful KP 46. Anytime a group of sailors gets together, it is bound to be a great time.

Screen Shot 2020-01-03 at 11.03.51 PM.pngJanuary was over in a blink, which was the reoccurring theme of 2019. Chris and I both celebrated our birthday’s in February, Chris turning the big 2-1 and myself turning 22. We sailed to Catalina Island to celebrate with the whole family and our very best friends. The sail from Channel Islands Harbor to Avalon was our first-night passage aboard Avocet. 14 hours later, we made it to Avalon safe and sound where we connected with the rest of our friends and family onshore. It was a great week exploring the town and soaking in every last moment with Jon and Shannon before they left to finish refitting Prism. When the time came to depart, we hugged everyone goodbye and set sail for Channel Islands Harbor; just Chris, Cleo and I. A few days after we returned home from our Catalina adventure, Chris surprised me with a trip to Disneyland! Since my birthday is February 14th, also known as Valentines’ Day or the “Hallmark Holiday”, the whole park was decorated with hearts and cupids as lovers gallivanted through the different lands. It was absolutely perfect.

In March, we decided to take a break from our own boat projects and drive to Berekely where Mitch and Quincy were on the hard-working on Esprit. After a long day of helping Esprit’s crew, we were treated with delicious food prepared by Quincy, who is a master galley chef as well as a nutritionist- check out her Instagram here! It was nice to be in the bay again, aboard Mama Neely’s Mason 43 which is the boat that helped inspire the Neely boys to become true sailors.

When we returned home from the bay, we finally finished our head refit. Naturally, the project lasted longer than anticipated due to conflicting schedules. It was half-finished when we sailed to Catalina, essentially just in “working” condition but we were still steps away from completely finished. I can not tell you how good it felt to lay the tile and finish painting… it actually almost felt as good as the first shower aboard did! We were ecstatic and to this day, our head is still the crowning jewel of our refit portfolio.

54257349_2235567589835785_4864024508232630272_o.jpgWe closed out the month by hosting my 6th(?) annual Jib Jam at China Peak, a skiing/snowboarding competition that benefits charity. In 2019 I chose to send the proceeds to Protect Our Winters (POW) an organization dedicated to environmental activism and overall, protecting winter. The Jib Jam was a great success, all of my friends young and old came out to support which always means so much to me. We raised over $300 for POW and made a lot of memories. little did I know it would be the last time I hugged one of my biggest supporters, Shane, who passed away later that year from a motorcycle accident. Shane was one of my favorite people to snowboard with, he

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Shane Cole, MC’ing my 2014 event

taught me so many tricks and above anything taught me how to be confident in my riding abilities which naturally correlated to me becoming more confident in myself as a person. I could always count on him to be at any of my events, even with a broken arm! In that case, I had him commentate which was extra funny due to the pain killers. This year, in 2020, I am pleased to announce that my Jib Jam will benefit the Shred Life Foundation, A foundation created on behalf of Shane dedicated to supporting adolescents who share a passion for extreme sports and may have setbacks that prevent them to do so. Shred Life is a company that sells apparel whose profits will sponsor and benefit fellow shredders providing equipment, lift tickets, medical bills, etc. and give those the opportunity to share Shane’s love for the outdoors. Thank you for being who you were Shane, I will never forget you.

 

In May we were thrilled to be invited to participate in the Home Port Regatta, a regatta specifically for cruisers and liveaboards, aka… us “slower” folks. It was our first time sailing Avocet semi-competitively but she stunned us with her speed on the water. We don’t have a spinnaker, so already at a disadvantage, we did our best to tack strategically and keep our eye on the horizon for lifts. To our absolute surprise, we finished the race in 11th place out of 20+ boats! In 2020 you better bet your rum we will be back out there on the start line, this time with more strategy and determination to make the top 10. A few weeks after the regatta, my good friend from college, Angel, flew out from Boston to visit us. It was really our first time hosting a non-family member so I felt obligated to go all out and be the hostess with the mostess.

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Angel making a new friend

I prepared a “Welcome” gift basket and planned out some fun things to do to give Angel the best California experience… if only the weather got my memo. The Santa Ana’s were not quite finished blowing yet, and we got hit with a nasty cold spell bringing cold harsh breezes making our attempted beach day more of an impromptu natural “spa treatment” thanks to the sand blowing against our bikini-clad bodies. All I can say is: I tried. One of the highlights of Angel’s visit was taking her to a Taco truck we newly discovered called Mom and Pops. We fell in love with even more menu items and have since become good friends with Mom and Pops family; Diego, if you are reading this… thank you for your hard work and excellent food! We are so thankful we have you as a friend. If you are in Ventura, be sure to check them out! Here is their Instagram: @momandpops 

It is so wild that we have already been married for one full year. Chris and I celebrated our very first wedding anniversary in Chris’s hometown Shaver Lake, where we got married. My cousins Ryan and Rony joined us at the local bar where we were thrilled to see at least 6 of our other friends already inside- an absolute bonus! We played pool, drank, sang along awfully to the country music playing and then eventually made it back home and sank into the hot tub, which melted all our mistakes away. Clarke, one of our best friends and also our wedding officiant joined us the following day along with Chris’s highschool bud Turner who came up the mountain to continue the celebration.

It didn’t take us long after we returned home to Stowe away the cabin and set sail for Santa Cruz Island: our first voyage to the island of the summer, and our first time anchoring without Jon and Shannon aboard. It was incredible to sail with the sunrise, arriving at Potato Bay just after daybreak. We had a wonderful weekend exploring the island and took pleasure in knowing that we would be returning again very soon. You can read all about that adventure here or watch the video recap on YouTube!

Why we started varnishing our stateroom in the middle of the “island” season, I have no idea, but I am glad we did it even despite the amount of time it took. Chris got a fire under his butt to start working on something, his hands were idle for far too long. It was our first time varnishing the interior of our boat, so we went through a few trials and errors. Chris invested in a spray gun which resulted in needing a box fan to ventilate and decrease overspray. We also painted the large locker under our bed, moving our hot water heater and a brand new diesel tank into space in preparation for our upcoming diesel heater project! There are so many details regarding this seemingly minor project, it gives me a headache just thinking about it. So, to save my sanity (and probably yours as well) check out the video on YouTube!

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red, white, and YOU!

July seemed like such a short month. We celebrated the 4th of July at home, watching the festivities from our boat with our friend Anna while the hustle and bustle ensued around us. Naturally, the morning after the marina was completely trashed. Chris and I went on a walk to collect as much garbage as we could to do our part, but despite our efforts I know it wasn’t enough. We would have needed at least a crew of 20 or more friends to have joined us to make the marina absolutely spotless… better yet, we just need people to step up and throw away their trash properly! A new goal for 2020: take a walk every day with a bag, and fill it with trash. Small pieces, big pieces, I don’t care! I challenge you, reader, to do the same. We all live here on this earth together, let’s be the best caretakers we possibly can be in 2020!

68958558_2504553056270569_3701658443556323328_n.jpgWe were so excited to sail our Victory 21 in the High Sierra Regatta at Huntington Lake, a yearly tradition. 2019 was extra special because on the same weekend it was also our fleets National Regatta! Chris and I made the executive decision to ditch the 300-pound lead bubble that was attached (aftermarket) to our keel since we were one of the last boats in our fleet to still have one. Completely convinced it was the bubbles’ fault we were getting our butts handed to us sailing downwind, we made do with the tools we had and tried to pry that sucker off. Did I mention we were unprepared for the severity of the project? Well after 6+ hours of using screwdrivers, hammers, and anything else we could possibly use as a crowbar… our nephew Troy who sat silently watching us casually mentions that there is an actual crowbar on the side of the rental house. Thanks, kiddo. A couple amounts of pure force did the trick, and we were finally bubble-free. After a little sanding, fairing, and temporary painting we were ready for bed. Bright and early the next morning, we towed our boat to the lake where we rigged and launched. Then it was race time. The boat was much more responsive-without the extra weight, and we pointed just as high as we did before. To be quite honest, the issues did not lie with our modification, it lied with the rest of the boat which had been neglected. If you read our blog, you know we lost our cap shroud mid-race, lost a cam cleat, had some play in our tiller and had the oldest bottom paint in the fleet. It was clear after our horrible 4 days of nonstop torture on the water that we need to put some love into our little boat and in the Spring of 2020 we plan to do just that… just in time for the next High Sierra Regatta. Look our Uncle Scooter and Uncle Chuck… we are coming for you!

When we lived in Lake Tahoe, I had an amazing job working with animals at the Pet Network Humane Society. I managed the front office in addition to helping take care of all the animals which were a great experience for me! I deeply missed working with animals in need, and my baby fever (yes we are young, yes we are waiting, but YES I do still get baby fever) was kicking in so when I saw a post on Facebook looking for a bottle feeder for a 3-day old kitten I took the leap and offered my assistance. 3 hours later, a tiny little ball of fleas and dirty fur was delivered to me. I brought him home where Chris and I dove right into doting on him. A few hours of flea picking and a little bath later, we named our new temporary crew member Atlas. We had always thought Cleo would be a great mama cat, but boy were we wrong. She did not like sharing attention with Atlas one bit, but a few hours later she began to tolerate his tiny presence and squeeks, taking pity on him, and licking the top of his tiny head. Just one or two licks though, she ran away somewhere high out of reach afterward.

Atlas filled our boat with so many precious “mews” as he rolled around, still unable to open his eyes. He made working on boat projects like completely restoring our portlights fun and difficult since he liked to attack feet and needed attention ever hour. However, we made it work and a couple weeks later we had sparkling portlights and cabin sides. Atlas-the-boat-catlass accompanied me to work, making friends with all the boaters and making toys out of anything that landed on the floor. Cleo became more tolerant of the tiny tyrant and played with him every once in a while taunting him with her out of reach tail grazing over his ever-growing head. When he started teething, he began chewing on Cleo’s face. We expected her to teach him that his behavior was inappropriate but she completely ignored his existance and let him carry on. As we rolled into September, my parents arrived for a visit to the Island so we gave Atlas to his new furever family, one of our best friends Mallory who took him in as a trial-run while we were away.

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our wonderful neighbor Sven captured this shot

A week before my parents arrived, we made a last-minute trip to Sacramento to buy our dream dinghy! Even before we had Avocet, we always wanted a Fatty Knees sailing dinghy, designed by Lyle Hess. UNfortunately, they are very hard to come by and very expensive brand new which is why when the opportunity presented itself we took the plunge and drove my subaru north. Long story short, the woman who was selling it used to be a cruiser aboard an Islander 36 with her husband who has passed. She had a garage full of memories and boat things in addition to our dream dinghy. We purchased it from her, and promised to keep in touch since we could tell it had been hard for her to part ways with it. Previous ownder, if you are reading this, we want you to know that you made one of our dreams come true and we promise to continue cherishing and taking good care of this dink!

It was a good thing we had invested in the Fatty when we did, because when my parents came to go sailing to Santa Cruz with us in September, we really needed it! That trip was such an adventure, it was my families first time “really” sailing, let alone staying aboard at anchorage. They handled everything great, even when we almost lost our anchor chain and got caught in a nasty 45+ knt wind… but im sure you read that story or watched the video. When we returned back to our slip safe and sound we said goodbye to my family and began to decompress. Mallory and Atlas (who had since been named Sassy Mittens, or “Mittens” for short) had bonded, making us nothing but more confident in our decision to have her be his adoptive family. With the peace and quiet, we began brainstorming our next project and adventure, realizing our year was already almost over.

In October, or “Spooky Season” as I like to refer to it, we flew to Annapolis Maryland where Prism was, to celebrate Jon’s 30th birthday! It was a family affair, so we were joined by Mama Neely, Sister Tess, and Best Friend Clarke for the occasion. We had a blast exploring the city and meeting new friends as well as visiting with our extended family (on both sides) who accompanied us in D.C. for an “adventure day”. You can watch our little recap video on YouTube since I didn’t write a blog, I hope you enjoy it! And before you ask because I KNOW you will… YES! Jon and Shannon are in fact still filming, editing, and producing videos. They will have a new upload in 2020, so stay tuned!

When we returned home, Atlas- I mean, uh… Mittens…- was just about 2 months old meaning it was time for his parts to get snipped. Since Mallory has 4 dogs and 2 kids, we agreed that it would be best little kitty healed up in the comfort of his floating home with Chris and I tending to his every demanding need. Cleo was less than enthused with Atlas- I mean MITTENS- re arrival, and hissed the biggest hiss at him, booped his head, and hid in our room for the duration of 3 days. I don’t blame her either, Mittens was just big enough to start jumping on her back in attempts to play and she was not having any part of that. Our little fluffy terrorist was home for Halloween, so it was only fitting he partook in the holiday. Chris and I were dressed as Dr. Indiana Jones and Lara Croft, while Cleo was our little pumpkin and Mittens was… BATlass-the-boat-catlass! Having his fluffy butt back aboard for a few days was wonderful, but we were so happy to return him to his furever home where he can chase around his dog siblings and demand things from his new humans. If you are interested in becoming a foster parent or donating to a great cause, check out Surf Cat Adoptions, who connected us with our foster baby Atlas/Mittens.

B590FD53-85A5-4824-A3A9-10D3DF12DE70October ended right after I had fulfilled my Rocky-Horror-viewing-quota and we resumed our lives a little less-spooky. We were featured in the local magazine, Anchor Magazine, which gave us a “neighbor spotlight”. It was so cool to see ourselves on the cover in a romantic, novella-esque pose… it makes me giddy every time I look at it. The day we picked up the magazines was the day one of my best friends Megan came to visit us. It was her first time really sailing so we decided to give her an easier experience and sail to Ventura for a little staycation. It didn’t take long for word to get around that we had arrived, soon our cockpit was filled with our friends and we shared laughter and cocktails while enjoying the famous Ventura Sunset. Megan left us to host her bear rally in Lake Tahoe, in an effort to advocate for the local bears. She is an incredible person and will never cease to amaze me. I hope we get to visit again soon!

Thanksgiving is a big deal on the Hushaw side. My aunt and uncle do a wonderful job hosting us all for dinner, and fortunately Christopher’s family opts for a Thanksgiving lunch making it easy to spend time with both of our extended families since they live within 30 minutes of each other! It is always wonderful to reflect back on what we are thankful for and my, my do we sure have a lot this year. We are thankful for our floating home, good health, steady jobs, and the future. I always wish holidays like Thanksgiving would last a little longer so we had a proper amount of time to visit with family, but in 2020 it is one of our goals to spend more of our time with the ones we love.

80690098_2777237622335443_6453807288502190080_nRight when I thought we couldn’t possibly eat anymore, December greeted us with treats and sweets completely testing my (lack) of self control. We were so excited that the first week of December brought loads of snow to the mountains, resulting in China Peak opening. We loaded up and drove north to get some turns in and film some commercial content for the resort. It felt so good to have my board underneath me again, but as much as I miss the snow I wouldn’t trade my life afloat for anything. Another reason I am excited to sail to Alaska: best of both worlds! Back in June, mama Neely gifted us a spa day as an anniversary gift. due to our busy schedule, we were unable to cash it in until December, but we are so glad we did! Since it was the “off season” Glen Ivy spa was basically all to ourselves which meant we got to enjoy all 17 pools and the mud spa with just eachothers company. It was a relaxing day spent soaking and enjoying a massage treatment, Glen Ivy has definitely become one of our favorite date spots. As much as we stress saving money, we realize that it is healthy to take care of ourselves mentally and physically so spending a hundred dollars every once in a while to do something that takes care of “us” makes it all worth it.

A week or so after our spa day, our new friends at Remora Marine came to visit and film some promotional video with us and of course Avocet herself. We haven’t really announced anything yet since I wanted to wait for a full video in 2020, but we are partnering with Remora Marina as our first official sponsor! We received their Remora Solo hull cleaner to try out, and we are thoroughly impressed. Chris is such a nerd with that kind of stuff he was so excited to pick the Remora Reps’ brains about specs and such. We have much more to tell you, but I am afraid it will have to wait for a little later this month. Stay tuned!

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Merry Christmas from Aptos, CA!

Of course, Christmas and New Years capped off our 2019 in an epic way. On Christmas Eve, we drove to Santa Cruz to spend the night and Christmas morning with my family, opening gifts and seeing what the jolly ol’ fat man brought us. Naturally, my parents wanted to see their favorite (and only) grand cat so Cleo came along to partake in the Christmas fun. She was doted on by “grandpa” who gifted her new toys (that she has since demolished) and investigated by my two curious golden retrievers who still don’t seem to understand what a “cat” really is. We enjoyed our sweet but short time, and then packed up the car and headed to the mountains to spend Christmas day and night with Christopher’s family. We are so thankful for our families and the generous gifts they gave. My family gifted us new bedding which we direly needed since we have been using Chris’s comforter from when he was a kid (and I think it was Jon’s prior) for the past… 4 years! Christopher’s mom also gave us a very thoughtful gift: new foul weather gear! We are more excited than ever to go sailing again, and can’t wait for our adventures in the new year. Speaking of New Year’s, we continued our yearly tradition of ringing in the new year at China Peak where Chris and I DJ’d the party. This year, I actually had my hands in the planning process and decided to make it a Roaring 20’s themed party… seemed appropriate given the fact we are going back into the 20’s! The event went off without a hitch, people even came dressed in 20’s attire! I was very proud of the success, so proud we took all of New Years Day to recoperate from our “celebrating”. A memorable moment from the party for Chris was being recognized as “Chris from S/V Avocet” while shuffling gear around on the ski resorts day lodge deck, which made us both feel very proud and humbled that people really like following our story. If you are reading this, new friend, cheers!

On the 2nd, we drove back home to Avocet and prepared her for our next adventure: surprise! We are moving harbors! Ventura Harbor was so nice, we decided to take the plunge and move Avocet there which will be more convenient for work and project purposes while we continue to outfit our boat for our big crossings. Although we will miss our little “neighborhood” in Channel Islands Harbor, it will only be an 11 minute drive and a 1 hour sail away. Right now as I am writing this, Chris is stowing the cabin preparing for the move in the morning. We canceled our internet, ended our contract and are ready for the changes and excitement the New Year will bring us. This morning we hit 2000 subscribers on YouTube and are just 100 followers shy of the same on Instagram- I can not tell you how much it means to us that you enjoy our story. We hope to meet you all someday, whether it be on the water or on shore somewhere. Cheers to 2020!

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Destination: Staycation

When I was a kid, my family had a trailer that we would not only take on far-away adventures but also, on occasion, take to the beach which was a 5-minute drive from our house at Seacliff Beach, in Aptos California. I must admit, as silly as it seems those were some of my favorite memories. Although it was the same beach we could walk to from home, there was a magical element added when you were sleeping there overnight. The point of this introductory paragraph is simple: every once in a while it is nice to have a change of scenery, which is one of the many alluring things of sailboat life.

36347098_1794716200571329_5341988225781071872_o.jpgChris and I often joke that we should entertain more often because it is the only time I put effort into keeping our boat clean. This onset of cleanliness was brought on by the visit of one of my best friends, Megan, who drove all the way down from North Lake Tahoe to visit with us before she flies to Alaska where she will be working this winter at a Heli-Lodge. I met Megan in college where she took me under her wing and together we competed in business plan competitions (we won the Nevada State Governors Cup 2016), traveled to New York for the United States Collegiate Ski/Snowboard Association Nationals, and of course had many lakeside hangouts to discuss life. Choosing Megan as my maid of honor for our wedding was one of the easier wedding planning decisions I made, and she upheld her promise to be the best maid of honor ever.

It was the first time Megan had visited us since our wedding, in addition, to her first time seeing Avocet. She was eager to observe how we live our life afloat and broke out her GoPro within seconds of arrival. She, of course, came bearing gifts of wine and pie which are two gifts that are always welcome in our home let alone in my belly. We poured ourselves a glass of wine and stayed up for a while updating each other on life from across our dinette while the glow of our oil lamp danced across our smile struck faces. After the glasses were dry, we blew out the light and went to bed in preparation for our exciting days ahead.

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Thank you The Anchor Magazine!

The following morning we got ready for our adventure. Megan had never been sailing before so of course, we were honored to cross that off her bucket list. We stowed the cabin and went through our regular departure protocol but this time before pushing off we had to run an errand to pick up the local magazine. Chris and I were featured as the November Neighbors in the Anchor Magazine, a wonderful local magazine dedicated to the Channel Islands Harbor and it’s surrounding residents. Despite being a digital marketer, I can still appreciate the feeling of traditional print media and was absolutely giddy to see us on the cover in addition to our 2-page spread. Megan was quick to post about our accomplishment and I shortly followed. Thank you to everyone who “liked” the photo on Facebook and Instagram!

When we returned to Avocet, Chris turned on the engine and I untied our lines jumping aboard at the last second as he backed out of our slip. Megan was a little nervous since her only “real” sailing experience was from when she was a kid at sail camp and was not a fan after the turtle drills. We assured her that our boat will not capsize nor turtle on this trip (or any trip for that matter) and by 11:00 we had our sails up, heading north to Ventura Harbor, our Staycation Destination. The wind was blowing about 17 knots with a 4 foot swell every 10 seconds or so… not the most comfortable sail for a first timer due to a storm up north sending some chop and swell our way. We did everything we could to ensure an easy sail, from reefing our main to letting the sheets loose and breaking off the wind. Although Megan let out a couple little screams, I think she had a pretty good time. After a few hours, I was pretty disappointed with the lack of dolphins but just as we were entering the Ventura Harbor breakwater a small pod of 3 dolphins came to our bow where Megan and I were sitting and rolled over to say hello before swimming south off our starboard side. A proper welcoming committee. 9478efd3-8585-4766-8614-84f1c2c9d379.jpgimg_0183.jpgWe docked Avocet in her guest slip then stowed away the few things that tumbled about the cabin during transit. We were all pretty hungry, so quickly changed out of our sailing attire and into something a little more socially acceptable before walking to the Ventura Harbor Village for lunch. Ventura Harbor is a lovely harbor with plenty of shops and restaurants, one of which being the famous Brophy Bros which is where we decided to have lunch. It was a busy lunch for sure since Megan was in the process of planning a Peaceful Protest/Bear Rally for her hometown in Tahoe and Chris was taking calls from producers. At one point I am pretty sure the waitress thought I was ditched because my two lunch dates had abandoned me with nothing but scallops and oysters to keep me company. I’m kidding, I kept myself plenty busy between stuffing my face with sourdough bread and working from my phone. Eventually, my lunch companions rejoined me and devoured the fishy feast on the table.

Leaving Brophy Bros absolutely stuffed and satisfied we wandered over to the beach which is parallel to the village. It was a bit windy and cold, yet Meg was in a dress and soaking up every inch of sunlight. We walked the tiny stretch of beach collecting trash and taking video for our vlog- if we so happen to edit something for the YouTube channel. After chasing some seagulls around we dusted the sand from our skin before putting our shoes back on and walking home.

It didn’t take long for word to get out that Avocet had arrived in Ventura. That afternoon our cockpit was filled with friends who had come to welcome us to their neck of the woods. I will use any excuse to bust out a charcuterie board (minus the meat) and gladly fed our guests while we talked in the cockpit. Our guest slip was located across from our dear friends Alan and Elizabeth, the crew of ValHowell, so naturally, I had to apologize for their neighborhood going to $h!t upon our arrival.

Ironically, Megan had another friend from Tahoe who was visiting her family in Ventura so we made plans to see her at the Boatyard Pub which is a great place to eat in the village- order the fries, you won’t regret it! We were also accompanied by our friends Garrett and his lovely girlfriend Alison who are two people that can turn any situation into a party. We shared stories, laughed, and stayed out way past my bedtime since my eyes were failing and my body was beginning to operate on autopilot. We closed our tabs and wandered back to Avocet, who was docked so daintily among the 60-foot yachts surrounding her. As strange as it is to fall asleep in the same bed but in a completely new place, my head hit my pillow and I was out cold to the world around me.

Around 2:00 a.m. the winds picked up, causing our Bimini to clank back and forth at the most obnoxious pace. After about 5 minutes of trying to tolerate it, I nudged Chris to go fix it. As he scrambled around outside securing everything on deck and checking our lines, I pulled out my phone and began jotting down notes so I could have an easier time writing this blog. Eventually, Chris came back below and crawled into bed, absolutely freezing. Luckily, I sleep warm so I snuggled up next to him and faded back into the sleepy abyss.

The seals woke up before we did, barking away while lounging across the empty slip fingers. Despite their destructive behavior around the marina, I can’t help but hope one will befriend me which I completely blame the movie Andre the Sea Lion for my unrealistic expectations. Chris brewed coffee and poured it for the 3 of us to enjoy in the cockpit before Megan packed up her belongings in preparation to leave.  We waved goodbye to Avocet and drove to Cafe Nouveau, my new favorite breakfast place in Ventura. Over more coffee and beignets we discussed upcoming plans and goals, absorbing every second of our time together before Megan returned to Tahoe to be the voice of the bears.

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A bob of seals basking in the sun

Visits with family and friends never seem to be long enough, but luckily we never say “goodbye” Instead, we always depart with a promise to “see you later”. We waved to Megan as she drove off in her blue 4Runner, Tahoe bound. Chris and I headed back to Avocet where I was petitioning for a nap, but he had other plans. Little Wing was loaded with blankets and coffee (yes, more coffee) as Chris pulled her around for me to step aboard. We had never really spent any time in Ventura Harbor on the water- well actually… I guess Chris did when he was younger since SV Prism was berthed in Ventura West for a bit. We put around the harbor checking out all of the boats and enjoying our new-to-us Yamaha 2-stroke outboard that Chris had just finished rebuilding.

By 4:00 p.m. the rain started falling, rinsing the salt from decks. The smell of apple cider filled our cabin with a warm cinnamon smell as it cooked in our Instantpot, while our oil lamps illuminated our interior with the light dancing off the walls. The pitter-patter of rain on our cabin top completed the cozy atmosphere as we brought our laptop to bed and picked our latest Netflix show to binge.

The next morning we were surprised with blue skies and not a single cloud in sight. We stowed the boat in preparation to sail back to our home port. Chris had invited our neighbor Gene aboard to sail with us, as well as the Howells. Avocet left Ventura Harbor at 9:00 a.m and arrived back in the Channel Islands Harbor around 11:30, after a lovely sail- if only Megan had been aboard for that sail! Our dock neighbors welcomed us back and it became clear that we will be missed when we set sail for good. As mentioned in our magazine feature, no matter where we go, the Channel Islands will always be home, even if it is nice to change the scenery every so often. So what are you waiting for, get out there and plan your own Staycation! From us to you, Cheers ~ 08BB60BB-759F-414A-98FC-A19C29AA9B5A.JPG


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“Is There a Button for That?”

Although we have already technically entered into the fall season, here in Southern California we are guaranteed a few extra weeks of the warm summer sun. We decided to make the most of our fleeting opportunities to sail to the islands by inviting my family on a weekend trip to Santa Cruz Island – which would also be their very first time staying while at anchor. Going into this, Chris and I definitely had some concerns regarding my family staying aboard and did our best to rationalize what we could and could not control. Comfort-wise, I created a very well put together welcome basket that included candy, reading materials, a menu, and itinerary for the weekend as well as some 72401939_2575597415832799_1104587798083534848_nDramamine which was much appreciated by my mom. We had been watching the forecast closely and cross-checked all of our sources which led us to the conclusion that Saturday would be the windiest of our days on Santa Cruz in contrast to the two gorgeous days forecasted during our trip. Personally, we had no concerns regarding the wind; Afterall, we completely trust our boat and Rocna anchor. After a “rules and safety chat,” we were ready to cast off for a very memorable weekend.

At the early hours of 5:30 a.m., we were greeted with 15-knots of wind, allowing us to raise our sails and cut the engine as we cleared the breakwater. It was Friday morning, and my sleepy eyes hid behind my glasses while I continued to layer in warm clothes before crawling into the cockpit. Chris handed me a spotlight that I gripped with cold hands as I took my position on deck looking for crab pots as we cleared the Ventura Harbor Breakwater. We had stayed the night prior in Ventura since it was a direct course to Prisoners’ Harbor, which was the first destination of our weekend adventure. The twinkling lights of downtown Ventura glistened in the distance, reaching up until they met the stars at the horizon line.

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Captain Chris checking our course in the early hours of the morning

71534883_10217970093037087_3922130973264707584_oAvocet, Avocet, Avocet, this is ValHowell, do you copy?” Around sun up, we were greeted by our dear friends Alan and Elizabeth Howell sailing alongside us in their beautiful, dark hulled 2018 Beneteau Sense 51, named “ValHowell,” a very clever play on words.ValHowell is a stunning vessel inside and out. We often make the joke that there is a button for everything – but all jokes aside, we aren’t kidding. For example: with a press of a button, the dinette transforms into a home theater, complete with a 30 inch flat-screen TV. This just so happens to be our favorite feature aboard, secondly to the luxurious cockpit with a sliding bimini top. “Valhowell, this is Avocet, go ahead”. My dad, Mike, and brother, Christian, joined Chris and me in the cockpit as we chat back and forth with ValHowell on the VHF while we continued to buddy boat to the island. My mom, Pam, managed to stay peacefully sleeping below deck in the quarter berth until we passed Anacapa. Cleo took advantage of my mom sleeping so soundly and positioned herself as close as she could get, essentially becoming the little spoon.

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ValHowell under sail

We set anchor at 9:00 am alongside ValHowell, the only other boat in the whole anchorage. After mimosas and a light breakfast, we dinghied over to the pier which was constructed in 1869 to load cattle and wool onto ships for transport. Now, the pier is used primarily to offload Island Packer groups (similar to the ones in Scorpion) for day trips. On our way to the dinghy dock, we were flagged down by another boater who had just come in to anchor. He asked if we had a gallon of water to spare, and once we told him we did (if he provided the container) he specified that he only wanted a gallon of bottled water, which we did not have so on our way we went. Jokes on him though, our dual filtered water system is probably cleaner than most bottled water.

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Prisoners’ Anchorage, pier to the right.

It was the first time my parents had set foot on the land that we had told so many stories about, and it definitely did not disappoint. The weather was perfect for hiking so without hesitation I lead the way to the Pelican Bay trail, a 4-mile trail that starts on the Nature Conservancy land and leads to Pelican Bay. To legally access this part of the island, a landing permit is needed. Fortunately, we and the Howells came prepared and had both purchased our permits at the beginning of the year allowing us to march on.

Prisoners’ Anchorage has a very interesting history leading to its rightful name. In February 1830, the U.S. brig Maria Ester dropped anchor off Santa Barbara. Its captain, John Christian Holmes, requested permission to discharge his cargo which was a literal boatload of  40-or-so convicted criminals. His request being denied led to Holmes transporting the convicts to Prisoners Harbor with provisions supplied by the padres at the Old Mission. The fate of the prisoners remains unclear. Those on Santa Cruz initially fared somewhat well, constructing makeshift shelters against the elements. Unfortunately, that was not the last time that Santa Cruz was considered as a possible prison. “In the 1880s, the U.S. Army suggested exiling especially troublesome members of the Apache tribe to the island. Nothing came of the idea, and today only the name, Prisoners Harbor, reminds us of the rather bizarre events of over 180 years ago” (Redmond, Michael).

The diversity of flora on Santa Cruz Island never ceases to amaze me. I have been trying my best to study and identify the various plants on the island, specifically the 15+ endemic ones. Purple flowers (possibly vervain?) lined the sides of the trail. The natural rock steps pushed into the side of the mountain made a narrow passageway through the tall oak trees adorned with ripe acorns. Island Fox scat was dropped along the trail, suggesting we may get a glimpse of the endemic creature. The view of our boats anchored in the bay improved with every step we took. Soon we found ourselves at the highest point along the trail admiring our floating homes positioned oh-so picturesquely below us. Near us, was a small lookout that I was dying to get inside. The door was shut, which I respected, so we continued on our way despite my inner thoughts urging me to go examine the inside of the lookout.

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Prisoners’ Anchorage from above

The narrow trail twisted and turned until we were facing down a rocky, overgrown decline. After some consulting, our group decided to turn around and head back- but not before my dad got some drone footage! Chris and Elizabeth scouted out what appeared to be a fox trail, hoping to find an Island Fox amongst the scenery. Upon their return from their failed mission, we continued our descent to our starting point. Once again we stopped at the lookout to admire our boats below us. I had mentioned that I would love to go inside the lookout, and wished the door wasn’t closed. Upon further examination, Chris noticed the “door” was not nailed shut, but being held together by a nail bent over another… so with one dainty push (more like a tap) the door creaked open and revealed the visitors center inside. The 4 walls were adorned with informational plaques regarding the area, including what the building used to be.

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Hiking along the Pelican Trail

As I had previously figured, the building was a lookout in the nineteenth and early twentieth century. Using a telescope, the island watchman could look for ships in the channel. If needed, a passing vessel could be signaled to come to the harbor and retrieve mail, supplies, or passengers. Today the observation post is known as Harveys Lookout, in Memorium of Harvey D. Carlson (1955-1994), who was a member of the Nature Conservancy dedicated to preserving California’s unique natural area for generations. When we were done reading everyone vacated the observatory, me being the last to leave trying to imagine what life was like for that watchman on the island.

We had lunch on one of the many picnic tables along the shoreline, appreciating our view and discussing anything and everything that came to mind. My dad had many questions for Alan regarding his career as a pilot in the navy. It’s funny, despite absolutely despising air travel my dad is enthralled with the details and has a vast collection of RC Airplanes that reside in the “hanger”… aka my childhood bedroom in my family’s home. Sometime during lunch, I had gotten up and began to wander, thinking here we are once again exploring the first anchorage that we had sailed Avocet to as her new crew back in 2018 with Jon, Shannon, and Mama Neely. It is amazing to reflect on how far we had come and how far we will go. I scoured the shoreline for bones, shells, and trash, only pocketing the trash to dispose of. Chris waved at me from the pier signaling me to come back. Our group loaded up the dinghies and we cast off and headed to our respective “floating homes”. It took about 5 minutes for my brother to drop one of his 3 lines in the water, and another 5 for a fish to bite.

71206096_10217970100477273_7031279432589377536_oMy brother Christian is a huge fisherman. He has always been a natural angler and has a passion not only for fishing but also for sustainable fishing practices to protect the habitats of the fish he catches, which I applaud him for. Although I have never liked eating fish (yes, I have tried that one, and no I still do not like it) my brother is the total opposite and could eat fish for every meal. One bite after another, he was pulling fish aboard to snap a photo then release. The reel excitement (haha get it, “reel”?) happened when he hooked his first white seabass, a beautiful fish but unfortunately just shy of the legal limit. He tossed it back and cleaned up for dinner. That night he told us “you know, this was cool and all but catching that fish really made this trip worth it”… I think it was a compliment, so I will chalk that up as a win. One down, two to go: Avocet just had to win over mom and dad Hushaw for a complete victory.

“Sleeping in” is a relative term on a sailboat. Although our clock read 6:30 am, we had still slept more hours than the night before, which we concluded was sleeping in. The wind had already picked up by 7:00, a stampede of white caps danced on the horizon. We hailed ValHowell and pulled our hooks, preparing to sail around to the other side of the island where the anchorages would be more protected. The 3 and a half foot swell helped push us along while the 20 knots of wind filled our sails. We played “leapfrog” with ValHowell; stealing their wind and passing them, then they would reciprocate. Chris pulled out his Nikon to snap some shots of their boat with Anacapa in the background, while Elizabeth so kindly captured photos of us under sail on her phone. Buddy boating is great.

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Avocet under sail… thank you, Elizabeth!

Here is where the real fun begins: We set anchor in Yellowbanks, an anchorage just past Smugglers cove, at around 9:30 am. I had gone below deck and begun preparing a breakfast feast of vegetarian biscuits and gravy, a fruit spread, and scrambled eggs. The Howells joined us aboard and mid-mimosa sip we noticed a huge catamaran drop anchor very close to ours. The catamaran, named Tunnel Vision (TV), must have been a personal defining trait of the crew since their presence came with a strong smell of marijuana and they were not shy about drinking loudly. Being a good, informative neighbor, Chris dinghied over to let them know we had let out 200 ft of chain anticipating the 35 knots of wind that were predicted to last until midnight. They seemed less than amused that Chris was there and asked how he knew that we have dispersed exactly 200 ft of chain. Chris explained to them that we use zip ties to mark every 20 ft of chain.  To our surprise, TV responded with “I’ve never heard of anyone marking their chain before” which left Chris astounded with a lack of words. He said his goodbyes and returned to the mothership to fill us in. “Well, one of their crew is surfing over there,” he said, pointing to the perfectly sculpted 4 ft. wave breaking less than a football field from our bow, “maybe they will leave when he is done?” We remained hopeful and continued on with our day.71149747_10217970080756780_264858383897591808_o

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Mama Hush, soaking it all in

My mom grabbed her “steamy novel” as my brother often calls her reading material (to be honest, it didn’t look that “steamy”) and got comfortable in the hammock Chris had set up on deck. Somehow I convinced my dad to go snorkeling with us and luckily the Howell’s were kind enough to let us use ValHowell’s swim step to dive from. The water visibility was not great, but I had just bought a new dive mask that I was determined to break in. My dad lasted all of 2 minutes in the water before jumping out and talking with Alan on the stern of ValHowell. Chris dove on the boat admiring their paint and checking for kelp in the prop. “All clear,” he said after tossing a small piece of kelp to the side. We returned to Avocet and showered off so I could prepare for dinner.

We dinghied over to ValHowell for dinner. I had prepared flatbread pizza using my focaccia recipe as a base and was very excited to eat after the long day we had. About one sip of wine in, Chris’s eyes grew wide and said: “we gotta go.” Through the Galley portlight of ValHowell, he saw what he thought was Avocet’s anchor skipping. Alan had suggested we take their inflatable dinghy that had a motor, to which we didn’t decline and zoomed back to the boat that was trying to escape us. Once onboard, Chris turned on the engine and we rushed to the bow to figure out what was happening. Luckily, it was not our anchor skipping. Unfortunately, our half-inch three-strand bridle had snapped clean off in the heavy winds (gusts into 40 knots) allowing the chain to load up with tension on the gypsy to the point where it would jump out of the teeth giving the illusion that our anchor was skipping when in reality we were rapidly losing our chain. While we were scrambling to save our home from kiting away, our lovely catamaran neighbor came to the bow of his pontoon to yell (upwind, might I add) “try using another zip tie!” … thanks, man. will do.

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Our sad, snapped bridle

We had no spare bridle aboard. The gears in Chris’s head were turning trying to think of what we had aboard to save us when a lightbulb went off. 4 days prior, Chris had been practicing splicing and had made a new davit harness for our dinghy out of Dyneema. With the spare rope, he crafted two bracelets; one for me and one for him both featuring his newfound splicing expertise. Now, for those of you that don’t know: Dyneema is a 12 strand rope made of plastic (basically) but is stronger than steel. So 5/16” Dyneema has a breaking strength of 13,600 pounds when 5/16 stainless steel wire will break at 8,825 lbs. Pretty amazing stuff!  When Chris gifted me the matching bracelet I told him that “our love is stronger than dynema” which was cute, but at the time I had no idea our new fashion accessories would be saving our home. Fast forward to us standing on the bow with 45-knot gusts howling in our faces: “give me your bracelet!” Chris yelled, so I could hear him. I unscrewed the shackle and handed my bracelet to him. Using his 5/16” bracelet as the primary bridle he put one end through one of the links in the chain and then put a shackle through the two end splices of Dyneema. He then replaced the 1/2” 3 strand bridle that broke minutes earlier with a heavy-duty 5/8” 3 strand rope and secured to the port side bow cleat.

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Chris’s Dyneema bracelet, after holding our chain

Dyneema is amazing stuff but it does have one weakness: chaffing. The reason we use stainless chain hooks instead of Dyneema soft shackles is for chaffing reasons alone. Instead of letting the bridle be as long as possible and reduce the noise and strain on our cleats and bow rollers, Chris kept the bridle 2 feet past the bow roller so he could keep an eye on the Dyneema all night, specifically looking for chaffing. He used my smaller bracelet as a secondary safety chain lock, just in case his chaffed through.

When we returned to the rest of our party, everyone met us on the swim step. I had stepped off the dinghy, followed by Chris who thought I/Elizabeth had the painter. That was not the case, and as soon as Chris dismounted the wind caught the dinghy and it began to drift away at an increasing rate. Without any thought, Chris took his hat and shirt off then dove into the water. “glasses” I semi-yelled as he tossed them into our dinghy and began to swim after the run-away. “Is he a strong swimmer?” Alan asked as we all watched Chris swim for the tender. My dad reassured the Howells that this is not the first time Chris has saved the day, referring back to when he was 15 and dove on our ski boat with a knife in his mouth to cut our prop free from a line we backed over. Chris made it back to ValHowell, safe, sound, and cold. As soon as he dried off both of ValHowell’s bridles snapped. Chris lent our dinghy harness to them as a makeshift bridle. He was both amused and terrified by the fact that his splices were holding a brand new yacht all night! After all the action we tried to eat but had no appetite. We left as soon as we finished our glasses of wine, but not before I had the opportunity to ask Alan if there was a button to turn off the wind. Unfortunately, the answer was no.

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Back aboard Avocet, we could see the worry in my mom’s face. We tried to explain to her that everything was alright and this is just a part of cruising, which didn’t seem to help at all. When in doubt, we turn to Captain Ron for help. We set up the projector and using my dad’s Goal Zero battery bank we turned on good ol’ Captain Ron to lighten the mood. Although the wind was screaming outside and the sound of our chain loading up was not comforting, we managed to get a few laughs out of my family by watching the movie. Chris and I were not afraid of the situation at all; I trust our anchor, I trust our boat, and I trust Chris’s solutions to whatever problems come our way. While routinely checking the anchor, the crew from our catamaran neighbor once again made an appearance on the bow of their boat. “Do you have any cheesecake?” a most likely stoned neighbor yelled upwind to us. Chris was shocked by the random request, calling back to confirm. When he confirmed that it was in fact cheesecake he desired, a fired-up Chris responded with “are you really asking me for fu*#ing cheesecake right now??” That conversation ended with our neighbor from TV flipping us the international sign of “peace” and going back below.

As we were turning in for the night, my mom noticed a fishing boat circling Avocet. We had initially thought that they were picking up their lobster pots that were scattered about, but when they got closer we got concerned. Chris once again jumped on deck and called out to them, asking that they monitor channel 65. “Persistence, this is Avocet. Are you guys alright?” they then told us that they had lost their anchor to the winds, and had no spares. It was 10:00 pm, and the wind was still gusting strong- no place for a small fishing vessel without an anchor. “Persistance, we can set you up with our stern anchor with 300 feet of road and 25 feet of chain. Wait until I signal you then come to our port side.” So there we were, handing off our stern hook to complete strangers, hoping that they make it through the night. The crew of Persistence were more than appreciative of our assistance, but honestly, if we were in their boat I can only hope that someone would do the same for us.

That’s enough chaos for one day, right? Chris set our anchor alarm on the chart plotter and kept an eye on our navionics chart as well to watch our boat kite and make sure we were still holding. He was exhausted, almost as soon as his head hit the pillow he was asleep. I knew that we had to keep an eye/ear on our anchor so I stayed up for a bit allowing Chris to enjoy his much-deserved break. Around 2:00 am (when the wind was predicted to stop) Chris checked our anchor and his snubber fix in 30-knot winds. Avocet was still holding, and ValHowell was as well. Our fishing friends aboard Persistence were also still holding in the distance, while Tunnel Vision had dragged further away from us. After his routine check, Chris crawled back into bed and stayed there until 7:00 am.

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My dad at helm, “assisting” captain auto pilot

ValHowell, ValHowell, ValHowell, this is Avocet. Let’s get out of here.” at 7:00 am we still had 30 knots of north-west winds. We pulled our anchor following ValHowell out of Yellowbanks. We checked on Persistence and made arrangements to retrieve our anchor once we were all back on the mainland. ValHowell kindly kept Persistence informed of the conditions out on the sea to help ensure safer travels. With two reefs in our main and a partial headsail, we were pushing along at a hull speed of 7 knots. My dad was happy to join us in the cockpit, coffee in hand, to enjoy the sail home. My brother remained asleep in the cabin with Cleo curled up at his feet, and my mom sat in the quarter berth despite our pleads to get her outside to avoid seasickness. Our boat handled like a champ in the 10-foot seas, making Chris and me only nervous when our dinghy would get seemingly close to dipping on the davits. Usually, we travel with our dinghy on deck to prevent it from flooding in case of a large wave pooping the stern- something we are no stranger to when sailing Mama Neely’s Mason 43 in San Fransisco bay. We tried keeping in contact with ValHowel, but our VHF wouldn’t reach them as they were on course for Ventura, and us Oxnard.

We arrived back in our slip at 10:30 am. My parents had packed their bags and said goodbye to Avocet as we crawled into Chris’s truck to go get some lunch at Toppers Pizza before parting ways. Over pizza, we discussed the events of the weekend. My dad and brother expressed how much fun they had while my mom remained quite. Winning over 2/3 isn’t bad I guess, maybe next time they visit we can go to Santa Barbara- a much mellower adventure. We hugged and said our goodbyes, then Chris and I returned to Avocet to clean up from the weekend.

The following days to come my dad texted, called, and posted on Facebook telling us how much fun he had aboard Avocet, and how he can’t wait to come back. My brother texted me saying “thank you” and how he wants to come to stay with us over spring break and go fishing again. Finally, when I thought we were out of victories my mom called Chris and told him how the news in Santa Cruz had forecasted 20 knots of wind and 4-foot swell for the week. She laughed, saying that was “no problem” and that she could handle much worse now. I definitely took that as a win! 3/3, my family had enjoyed the trip even despite all the twists and turns, which reminded me that no matter what it’s not about where you are, but who you are with.

Thank you so much for following our adventures! Be sure to check us out on Instagram and YouTube, you will NOT want to miss this next video!

Cheers,

Marissa, Chris, and Cleo


Cited Sources:

Redmond, Michael. “Prisoners Harbor.” National Parks Service, U.S. Department of the Interior, http://www.nps.gov/chis/learn/historyculture/prisoners.htm.

To learn more about the history and preservation efforts on Santa Cruz Island, please visit: http://www.scifoundation.org/home.aspx


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​Bad Days in Paradise

IMG_8157“Where’s Cleo?” Is not a question I like to wake up to. It was 3:00 am and we were rolling back in fourth in Smugglers Cove Anchorage. Just when we thought we had exhausted all the potential hiding spots we looked up and there was Cleo, nesting in our linen cabinet. We snapped a couple of photos like any proud parents would and returned to bed. Neither of us could sleep. Every 30 minutes or so we would wake up due to heavy swells hitting us broadside and the lack of wind not helping. Eventually, we got about 3 solid hours of sleep, waking up at 8:00 to start our day.

The day prior had been an absolute mishegoss; anything that could go wrong did. After a stressful day at work, I came home and we pushed off- our exit being anything but graceful. The wind as not in our favor as we backed out of our slip, forcing us into our neighbor’s bowsprit. I was dumb enough to try and fend us off, getting my hand between our standing rigging and our neighbor’s bowsprit nearly taking my middle finger off in the process. Luckily, Chris pushed us off and everyone was okay, even our neighbor who was probably more afraid of my awful yelp from pain than her boat. No damage was done besides to our egos and soon we were on course for Santa Cruz Island. 

Not more than 30 minutes into our journey, I began to feel sick. I’m still unsure if it was from all the stress or if because I hadn’t eaten, but my stomach was sour and I felt useless. The more I fought it the worst I felt and Chris finally sent me below deck to try and nap it off. Cleo cuddled me as nausea took over. After a long 30 minutes, I stopped fighting and threw up the minimal contents of my stomach, drank some water and got back outside. Anacapa was glowing off our port side as the sun shone upon it, preparing to set.img_8125-e1564174933716.jpg

Even though the forecasted winds were only up to 10 knots, we were surprised with blustery 25 knots and we were quickly overpowered with a full genoa and our mainsail set. Chris tried to furl our headsail by hand, proving our need for a furling winch in the cockpit. We released the jib sheet wrapping our furling sheet around the winch, cranking until it was in. I managed to keep our slapping jib sheets at bay, letting them out inch by inch as Chris furled the sail. Hindsight is 20/20, we definitely should have tacked before attempting to bring in the sail, but give us a break! After a brief battle furling the headsail we motored the last 15 minutes into our anchorage to set the hook and get some sleep.

Smugglers Cove is a scene taken straight out of a magazine with olive orchards lined above the rocky shore, perfectly placed along the hillside. The Olive grove was planted n the 1880’s under the direction of Justinian Caire whose intent was to make maximum use of the island’s many resources. Although the days of harvest are decades over, the olive grove still stands all these years later serving as another beautiful memory of life on the island. We settled in after our long day, completely exhausted from the events that had occurred. After we ate dinner we melted into our bed at 9:00, not knowing it would be a restless night followed by another crazy day.

We awoke at 8:00 am, struggling to get up since we had finally gotten a pinch of sleep. The coffee was teasing my senses, enticing me to get up from my “nest” and indulge. We drank our coffee in the cockpit as the clouds parted letting the sun shine down on us, kissing our skin good morning. The swell was still easily 6 feet coming from the south, making the waves pound hard and heavy on the shore. As bad as I wanted to go hike through the feral olive grove, I knew it wasn’t worth obliterating our dinghy in the process so Chris picked up our guide book and began to skim the pages when he remembered our neighbor telling us about a white sand beach a few miles south from Smugglers. 

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Bobbing along, slowly but surely

The sails were up and our new course was set for Coches Prietos. The blue sky melting into the glistening sea was a perfect backdrop to our conversations about future plans and playing the ukulele. It was all fun and games until Chris checked on our engine only to find that the hose connected to our muffler was leaking like a siv! We immediately shut the engine off and bobbed around while Chris grabbed his tool bags and went below deck. After further investigation, the muffler was broken. No engine, and no wind. While we waited for a gust to fill our sails I could see the gears in Chris’s brain turning trying to think of some solution for our problem. He began scanning every available tube-like item we had on board when he rediscovered an old bronze elbow pipe from our previous plumbing system. “I think I can fix it, lets get to the anchorage.” And as if he was Zephyrus himself, the wind picked up and we were moving again. 

45 minutes later we pulled into the anchorage. The long stretch of sandy beach could be seen from miles offshore, as well as the aggressive backsplash of the waves hitting the surrounding cliffs. The anchorage was small but very deep. When we first arrived there was a Catalina 27 anchored nearby, it’s crew of 6 could be seen playing on the shore. Since the anchorage was so deep we let out 140 feet of chain, setting our anchor just off a small kelp bed. Almost as soon as we set our hook, our neighbors decided to pull theirs and move on to their next destination- was it something we said? Soon we were all alone in the charming little anchorage and the beach was calling my name, however, the engine was calling Chris’s. Priorities prevailed and with a blink of an eye, our heads were under our floorboards. With the possibilities of CO2 pollution, we opened every portlight, hatch, and turned on all our fans to ventilate the cabin. Chris’s idea that incorporated our old bronze plumbing tube worked like a charm, and just as soon as he finished up packing away his tools I was packed up and ready to hit the land.

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Balsamic, green apple, onion, arugula, and mozzerella flat bread

Unfortunately, the swell was too big to safely land Little Wing. Slightly crushed due to my plans being foiled once again, I held my head high and stayed optimistic. After spending the rest of the day reading in my hammock, I retired below deck to prepare for dinner. I thought that it would be nice to have some comfort food after the crap luck we had been having so I made homemade pizzas. Naturally, something had to go wrong. Can you guess what happened when I was ready to put the pizzas in the oven? The oven stopped working. After being so optimistic and rolling with every punch this trip, that was my breaking point. I dropped everything and went to bed and had myself a good stress cry. After Chris comforted me he yelled at our oven a few times while fiddling with the burner. He must have said the right combination of curse words (bibidy-bobbity-god damn it!) because just like magic everything worked as good as new. Soon our bellies were filled with boat-made pizzas and stuffed mushrooms, a perfect dinner for a less-than-perfect day. We cleaned up our multiple messes and turned in for bed early, absolutely tickled with the idea of a comfortable, full night sleep in contrast with the night before. I instantaneously fell asleep when my head hit my pillow and was transported to a mystical dreamland where boat problems fix themselves and the margaritas are always flowing.

I woke up the next morning surging with optimism that “today would be a great day”. We were in a beautiful place, on a beautiful boat and ready for whatever life was going to throw our way. After pancakes and coffee, we loaded the dinghy and began to row to shore. So far so good, the swell was relatively flat making a very easy landing and the soft sand below our feet was welcoming. We pulled the dinghy up the shoreline and hugged each other looking at our home bobbing in the distance. The large cliffs at the mouth of the anchorage created an amphitheater effect making the crashing waves echo and carry across the shoreline. The water was deep and inviting. Chris jumped in with no hesitation while I stayed on shore, unrolling my yoga mat and preparing for some sun salutations. It was definitely a good day

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Coches Prietos, CA

1…2…3…owch! After watching my many attempts at holding a headstand and nearly breaking my neck, Chris joined in on the fun being my partner for some acro yoga. Luckily we had the camera rolling because it was hilarious, we couldn’t stop laughing! He nearly dropped me twice, sent me into a somersault once and gave me a sand rash on my hip, yet despite it all that was the most fun we had had in days.

Sandy and exhausted we laid on the beach enjoying our environment when we were soon joined by our soon-to-be new friend Lou, who had rowed his dinghy over from the anchorage nearby where is Cape Dory 33 was anchored. Lou was a cool guy, telling us all about his journey up the coast from San Diego to Santa Cruz Island. We talked back and forth about boats, boat problems, anchorages and trails before he set out for a hike. Making friends out of strangers is something we look forward to when it comes to cruising, there are so many interesting people out there and so many stories to hear!

We walked about the shore before launching Little Wing once again. As we rowed home we promised to return and give this anchorage a proper video recap since this trip was too chaotic. We really admire sailing channels like Sailing Project Atticus that keep filming even in tough situations; we want to be more like them in that aspect because DAMN it is so hard to keep filming through the stress and tears!

In 10 quick minutes, the cabin was stowed away and we were ready to bring up the anchor. Chris set the main while I set the genoa and soon enough we were sailing east for Channel Islands Harbor. At 12:00 sharp, the wind was light, pushing us along at 3 knots. Since we had to reserve our engine for docking we worked with what we had, being so grateful to have a sailboat- the most expensive way to get somewhere for free. Hours passed as we slowly sailed along the island, trying to keep ourselves busy. I completed the needlepoint project I had been working on, got through 6 chapters in my new book and sat down to write out this here blog. Chris tried to read, but I have noticed he only gets through a chapter or so before finding something else to occupy his time. I brought up some blueberries and we had a blast trying to throw them into each others mouths from either side of the cockpit. By the time we reached Anacapa, we had the wind in our sails again, pushing along at 7 knots. Finally, a light at the end of the tunnel! 

Our hull speed was cruising at 7.8 knots sustained, surfing the swell the whole way. Chris’s smile stretched from ear to ear as childhood memories of sailing aboard his families Mason 43 in San Francisco Bay came flooding back. “Now THIS is sailing!” he exclaimed, almost to be cut off by himself when he read our speed once more “8.5 knots! We almost got up to 9!” The excitement continued all the way to our harbors breakwater as we grew more impressed with each sporty gust of wind.

We cleared our breakwater, sailing in as far as we could before kicking on our engine- the moment of truth. Chris’s quick muffler fix worked and we made it back to our slip safe and sound with no other unfortunate events. We showered, dressed, and popped over to Toppers pizza for a celebratory dinner laughing at every “it could be worse” scenario that came to mind. At the end of it all, we were both safe, healthy, happy, and stupid in love with each other-what more could you ask for? A bad day in paradise is still a pretty darn good day. Thanks for reading our blog! Until next time, fair winds,

~ Marissa Neely

 

“Smooth seas never made a skilled sailor” – Franklin D. Roosevelt

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Potatoes, Scorpions and Sailing Oh My!

The air was wet, and heavy wrapping around us like a hug while we set our course for our first voyage of the summer to Santa Cruz Island. At 2:30 am the fog was thick and our visibility coming through the harbor channel was about 100 yards, yet I had a gut feeling it would disappear when we cleared the breakwater; lucky for us I was right.

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If you look closely, that blanket blob is yours truly.

The stars sparkled like sky diamonds as the fog cleared, almost like a curtain peeling back to unveil the show behind. Chris was wide-eyed and ready for adventure while I had not properly “hatched” yet, as my mother calls it. Of course, during the early hours of the morning, the wind was nonexistent so the hum of our Perkins Engine and the splash of the waves lapping against our hull lulled me to sleep in front of the companionway. Chris had anticipated my failure as a night watch companion and already had a pillow and blanket ready for me. Smart man.

I woke up with the sun and to Chris gently whispering that there was a massive pod of dolphins surrounding us- a proper entourage to the island. As the rays of sunshine began to extend over the glistening sea, some dolphins jumped in the distance while others danced under our bow putting on a show. By 5:20 a.m. the detailed cliffs of Santa Cruz Island could be seen by the naked eye- well, Chris’s naked eyes. My naked eyes are legally blind without contacts.

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Chris taking a break from reading about anchorages.
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I spy with my little eye…

Just East of Prisoners’ Harbor lies the beautiful Potato Bay. Potato Bay offers shelter from North East and South East swells as well as winds, which can blow down from the cliffs in strong gusts. We set anchor in Potato Bay, around 6:30 a.m. with no other boat in sight. It was a narrow entrance into the anchorage but it widened up once inside. I don’t think more than 3 boats could anchor there at a time! Potato bay is surrounded by sheer cliffs that (to my disappointment) do not allow the opportunity to hike above for an overview of the bay. I had seen many photos in our guide books (as well as from Instagram) of people photographing the bay from an upper point of view. When I realized that it wasn’t in the cards for us to capture Avocet from above the anchorage I was reminded why we need to invest in a new drone since our old one flew its last flight back in December. Next time we will be prepared.

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Smiling before our oar brok

Despite the lack of hiking trails Chris and I rowed our dinghy “Little Wing” to shore in hopes to find some adventure in the very tiny bay. Upon landing, one of our literally brand new oars snapped in two which made it difficult to beach. Luckily Christopher is a great dinghy captain as well and got us to land safely. After we moved the dinghy up, Chris retrieved our broken oar, already planning out ways to fix it in his head so we could still use it for the next 2 days. He tabled his fix-it thoughts for later as we both admired our beautiful boat sitting in the Jurassic Park-esque landscape. The beach was rocky with sand patches, sprinkled with sparkling abalone shells, bones, and crabs.

We strolled along the shore until we found a bench made from wood scraps which was another perfect place to sit and admire our boat. Moments like those make us so beyond grateful for the opportunities that sailboat life gives us, dually serving as a reminder to get outside more often because nature is freaking awesome! After our “oohs” and “aaahs” we continued on along the shore until we spotted a cave.

Against my better judgment, Chris was able to convince me to go inside the cave with him and despite our lack of safety equipment (helmets, lights, handheld radio, etc.) I ducked under the wide yet low cave mouth, keeping my hands above me, and waddled my way back to Chris who was already inside the belly of the cave laughing at my safety paranoia. The cave was shallow, and since the opening was so wide it allowed light to paint the walls. To my surprise we both could stand straight up in the 40 square foot area. There was no signs of bats, another surprise, but a few small petrel nests that I made sure we gave space. Unfortunately there was no treasure to be found which was a slight disappointment since I was secretly hoping the cave would open up to a hidden pirate ship that was once captained by the great One Eyed Willie (any other Goonies fans out there?)

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From inside the cave

 

62523094_2300473549995589_4859989347803332608_oWe took our photos and crawled out of the cave back into the sunshine. The water was crystal clear below the rocks we climbed, allowing us to watch 6 garibaldi fish swim between rocks. Did you know that garibaldi are the state fish of California? I think they look like mutant goldfish, but I guess with their golden-orange scales they fit into the whole golden state aesthetic along with the poppy flowers.

While climbing over rocks and avoiding tar deposits we accidentally woke a sleeping seal who was not happy about it. He barked at us as we gave him a very wide berth since he was blocking our path to Little Wing. Once we maneuvered around the grumpy seal my heart sank as my eyes set on a very sad pelican who had a very broken wing. Poor Mr/Ms Pelican had a whole bone sticking out, and was seeking refuge and camouflage, nestled in the rocks. My moral ethics were at war over if we should attempt to help it or leave it be to die in peace and after a long hard thought we knew it was best to let nature take its course. “If I was going to die from a broken limb, I would want it to be somewhere as beautiful as here” said Chris, who knew my day had just been ruined by a dying bird. He was right, and although I was sad about the lonely dying bird I was reminded that life is precious and short. One minute your flyin,’ the next you’re dyin’n! Sorry, humor helps me cope!

The perks of waking up early include always being pleasantly surprised how early it still is. “It’s only 10!” Chris exclaimed as we launched Little Wing. While loadeding up a small, dirty, tar splotched broken board into our dinghy Chris assured me he had a plan to fix our gimp oar. I am so glad that no one else was around, because We rowed like idiots sitting side by side, Chris using the normal oar and me using the stub of the broken one.

Since the anchorage was unprotected from the prevailing North West wind we had decided to pull anchor and move on to our favorite anchorage, Little Scorpion. Little Scorpion offers more shelter from wind and swell making it a very comfortable place to spend the night, surrounded by gorgeous land views and providing an underwater playground for divers and snorkelers with a reef and kelp forest. IMG_7676

At high noon we secured the best spot in the anchorage. Setting the main and stern anchor and deploying the “flopper stopper” the boat felt like at its slip even though we had a consistent 20 knt breeze. Once we resettled I made us some snacks and Chris grabbed his guitar. The sun was warm on our pale skin, inviting me to strip off my cold weather clothing and lay out like a lizard.

The breeze picked up bringing the marine layer with it.  When I couldn’t feel the sun anymore I pulled on my hoodie and went below deck to get started on dinner. Chris was still outside napping since he was kind enough to let me sleep through night watch nearly 13 hours prior. It was 3:00 p.m. and the view from my galley port light was breathtaking. The sun bounced off the clear waters, painting the cliffs adjacent to us. Pelicans flew low, reminding me of the unfortunate bird that wouldn’t join his pelican friends in flight ever again. Cleo circled below me, reminding me that she was hungry despite her full food bowl. I was humbly at peace as I peeled potatoes in my galley while taking in my surroundings.

62455754_2300472806662330_4864679881587294208_oChris woke up just in time to watch me plate our dinner. We usually don’t buy meat aboard Avocet as an attempt to be environmentally responsible but this was a celebration of our first time anchoring without the help of Jon and Shannon. For dinner I had made petite filet mignon with a baby bella mushroom red wine reduction served on a bed of brocollini and home made garlic mashed potatoes. Naturally, a movie followed dinner and our film of choice for the evening was Captain Ron. As we quoted every line, I served dessert which was a chocolate cake served in a ramekin, topped with whipped cream and a chips ahoy- for class, of ccourse. We were truly stuffed like pigs and so tired from our long day, we slept like babies nestled in our bed while the sound of the waves and gentle rocking lead us into dream land.

I sprang out of bed at 6:00 a.m. when a wave from a passing ship rolled through and aggressively rocked the entire boat. Chris jumped up like a guard dog and did a perimeter check, weather check, and looked to see if anyone joined us in the anchorage. All was well and we were still alone so back to sleep we went… at least we tried, anyways. We were both wired and excited for the day. I rolled out of bed and into the galley where I started the coffee and prepared breakfast. While eating breakfast in the cockpit the wind decided to flip, making our favorite anchorage not-so-great. Luckily, we could motor right next door to Scorpion anchorage which is also the main landing for the Gherini Ranch on the island.

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Peep the splinted oar

The weather was chilly, prompting us to dress warmly as we stuffed our dry bags and packed our picnic basket into our dinghy. Chris managed to jerry rig our oar with a splint using the scrap wood from Potato Bay and gaft tape, it worked like a charm! We beached Little Wing in front of a live audience curtesy of Island Packers who use Scorpion Ranch as a drop off site for day trip tourists as well as campers.

We pulled the cameras out of the big dry bag and put our jackets in their place since the sun had made a very welcomed appearance once again. The large group of people from Island Packers covered the shore wearing their borrowed life jackets, zinc covered faces, and dragging yeti coolers in tow. We wandered over to the welcome center where I struck up a conversation with a very nice State Park Ranger who shed some insight on the history of Scorpion Ranch.

In the late 1800’s a number of ranches were located in various places around Santa Cruz Island. The easternmost ranch was Scorpion Ranch, which was a major out ranch and had an important role in providing food for the rest of the island. The most recent owners of Scorpion Ranch, before the acquisition of the east end of the island by the National Park Service in 1977, were the Gherini family. Scorpion Ranch was in operation in 1855 mainly raising cattle to supply the high demand for beef on the mainland. 

Taking a break from the history lesson, I asked about the Island Fox which is a small fox that is found on six of the eight Channel Islands. There are six subspecies, each unique to the island it lives on, reflecting its evolutionary history. Island foxes are generally docile, show little fear of humans, easily tamed, and most importantly about the same size as our boat cat Cleo. According to Mr. Ranger, the island fox was almost extinct in 1980’s due to golden eagles and other environmental impact ,but because of their repopulation efforts in the early 90’s there are approximately 3200 island foxes running about the island. We thanked the Ranger for his time and continued on our way.

Remnants of the old ranch were scattered about in front of the welcome area. A large rusting tractor engine took the center of attention amongst the various other ancient ranching tools. As we followed the trail we were drawn to the visitors center which was previously the ranch kitchen, now set up as a mini hands-on museum to show a glimpse of what ranch life was like back in 1855.  Once I soaked in all the bits of history, I signed our names in the National Park Registry book as “SV Avocet” from Channel Islands Harbor, CA.

64568015_2303067066402904_5604679674123780096_o.jpgAfter studying the trail map Chris and I decided to hike the Potato Harbor trail which, ironically, would give us a nearly birds eye view of the bay. Potato Harbor Trail is a 4.9 mile lightly trafficked loop trail that features beautiful wild flowers and is good for all skill levels. However, after the first 20 minutes we both stopped to catch our breath and realized how out of shape we are now in comparison to when we lived in North Lake Tahoe. Looks like we need to hike more!  This was only one of the many trail options accessible from Scorpion Ranch, and we can not wait to return and hike them all.

 

 

There were still mustard flowers left over from the super bloom decorating the hillsides and wind whistled through the cattails giving us an excuse to stop and catch our breath while taking in the views. The golden hills stretched on forever, only ending where the ocean met the land. We finally made it to our destination and looked over the bay that our boat was anchored in the day prior. The only living creatures floating in the waters below were pelicans, but none of which the sad, dying one which upon further examination I believe to be classified as dead due to the large amount of ravens hopping around the place it was resting. “It’s the ciiiircle of life!” Chris sang, as a reminder to stop thinking about it. We hydrated and once more caught our breath before hiking back to the shore where our picnic basket full of goodies was waiting for us.64238531_2303066646402946_1633976773974687744_o

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mmmm…

When we returned to Little Wing, there was a small group of people casually eating lunch around our dinghy as if there were no other places along the 200 yard stretch of shoreline. They looked at us funny as we approached and proceeded to unveil our picnic basket that was covered by our empty dry bag and beach blanket. We said our “hellos” then walked to a spot below Little Wing where we laid the blanket down and I opened the basket presenting the contents of our lunch. The looks from Little Wings “babysitters” grew stranger and (I think) a bit envious as I pulled out a cheese board with a delectable and dainty charcuterie spread, paired with hot tea from our thermos to warm us up under the cloud cover. We watched Avocet bob on anchor while we ate cheese and discussed how we as humans take the earth for granted and how our poor ocean is the buffer, swallowing all of our mistakes and choking in the process.

We packed up our belongings as well as some trash left behind from Little Wings babysitters, then rowed back to Avocet for the final time this trip. We pulled anchor at 4:00 p.m. with the wind in our favor. Once we cleared the surrounding rocks we set sail and headed due east for Channel Islands Harbor. It felt so good to not run the engine, no sounds besides the waves, the wind, and the occassional “You caught the wind now boss!” We were flying, reaching a hull speed of 6 knots sustained occasionally peaking at 8.

It was a cold sail home, so I huddled by the companionway (my spot) in a blanket with a hot cup of tea and began writing this very blog. Just when I thought I couldn’t get more inspired, a massive pod of dolphins emerged jumping through the waves and heading west. I know that kind of movement, growing up in Santa Cruz it became second nature to learn the behaviors of sea creatures such as dolphins, birds, seals and even sharks. “They are either swimming from something, or swimming with something” I told Chris, and not more than 2 minutes later a small family of Grey Whales breached about 200 yards off the port side of our bow. Fun fact: Gray Whales were nearly hunted to extinction by whalers in the 1800’s around the Channel Islands, and have been protected from exploitation by the International Whaling Commission since 1946. As a result, current populations are considered close to their pre-exploitation numbers.62463038_2300473159995628_8019302690137833472_o.jpg

Autopilot kept us on course while I wrote my heart out in this blog, and Chris napped below deck. I would look up every few minutes to check for passing ships and more whales but nothing stood (or swam) between us and our homeport. I was amazed at how quick we passed Anacapa Island, it only took an hour! This passage was the first in a while where we were able to shut off our engine and have the wind to push us for the full duration of the sail- which was ironic since Chris spent the last month doing a huge rebuild on our Perkins 4.108.

After a quick 3 hours of constant wind and medium swells we arrived home safely in our slip. It was 7:45 p.m. yet it felt like midnight. Our bodies were exhausted from our adventures, yet we were already planning out our next return to the Island. It has been 2 days since we have returned, and I am honestly stunned at the amount of gorgeous photos we captured and can not wait to review the videos too! As always, thank you so much for reading our blog and following our journey as the crew of SV Avocet. Fair Winds, ~ Marissa

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