Late August, 2010 - We pulled out of Baja Naval marina in Ensenada,
Mexico after a flurry of paper chasing to get our exit documents
together in a form that was acceptable to the Port Captain. The
position of Port Captain carries a lot of prestige, and he or she holds
ultimate power over all boating activity in the port. Having checked into
Mexico through Hotel Coral & Marina, the Ensenada Port Captain told
us we now needed our exit crew list to be written on the letterhead of
Baja Naval Marina, to show our movement from one marina to the
other during our stay. Good grief. The cruising guide had indicated we
could write up our exit crew list ourselves. No such luck. Lots of boats
leave Mexico without getting exit papers, but because we plan to return
in a few months it seemed wise to follow the prescribed protocol, so we
put a few miles on our shoe soles that morning as we ultimately made
three trips to visit the Port Captain.
The morning was misty, and the sea created a smooth, undulating
blanket beneath us as we motored into the sunny haze. We planned
to stop at Las Islas Coronados for an overnight rather than do the
entire 70 mile trip to San Diego in one shot. These islands are a few
miles offshore from Mexico, lying just below the US/Mexico border.
We had heard to steer clear of the fishing activity at the south end of
the southernmost island before turning in to the anchorage that lies at
its midpoint on the eastern shore. So we were very surprised to find
that fish pens and fishing boats occupied the entire eastern shoreline
of the island, effectively blocking us from turning towards our planned
anchorage until we got all the way to the northern tip.
Doubling back south and snaking our way along the shore, we eyed the eight or so rows of three or four fish pens per row. A
lone sailboat was anchored amid 30 or so fishing boats, and we took a spot nearby. It is a pretty little anchorage, and when
morning came we didn't want to leave. The gulls were calling each other, seals surfaced here and there around the boat, and
the rocks glowed orange in the sunrise. Facing the hustle and bustle of San Diego did not seem appealing at all. Being
anchored, and free, after months of harnessing our boat in a slip, tying it down like a horse penned in a stall, this brief whiff of
pure freedom beckoned us. After all, opening our souls to this world of nature is why we chose to get a boat and go cruising.
However, our truck was parked in 72-hour on-street parking on
Shelter Island and it was now 96 hours since we'd parked it.
Duties and obligations reeled us in, and we sailed into the US
customs dock in San Diego and filled out more paperwork for more
uniformed officials to document our arrival back in the US.
Our arrival coincided with the arrival of summer in southern
California, despite it being August 17th. The sun shone from first
light every day for ten straight days, and it seemed like it must be
June.
We spent a few errand filled days tied up at the harbor's Police
Dock, taking advantage of having easy access to our truck and
stores from a slip in the heart of San Diego's sailing community.
We were in an intermediate phase now, without a permanent slip
for the boat, but not yet cruising full-time without wheels on land. Our plan was to hop between anchorages until mid-October,
finishing our various outfitting projects on the boat and learning to live on the hook, before setting sail for southern Mexico.
One delightful free anchorage is available--weekends only--at La
Playa Cove behind Shelter Island. Tucked between the San Diego
Yacht Club docks and the Southwestern Yacht Club docks, this pretty
spot is hugged by a hillside studded with multi-million dollar
waterfront homes. As we swung slowly from side to side at anchor,
we admired these beautiful glass-walled mansions, imagining what
that life must be like.
Shelter Island had unexpectedly become like a second home to
us after we spent October, 2008 and half of January 2009
parked along the streets in our fifth wheel. So we enjoyed
getting to know its other side, soaking up its unique warmth and
familiarity from the water.
Our first anchoring experience at Isla Coronado Sur on the way to San Diego had
revealed that our anchor light bulb at the top of the mast needed changing. It took two
sailors to change this light bulb, one manning the winch (me) and one scurrying up the
mast to change the bulb (Mark). What crazy stuff this boating life gets you into.
Being the first truly
gorgeous, sunny, warm
weekend of the summer,
the cove was soon filled
with merry-makers of every
type. If you had something
that could float, this was
the weekend to take it out.
We saw rubber dinghies,
sleek little sailboats, a
Hobie sailing trimaran
kayak, traditional kayaks and
even folks who could walk on
water.
These standing paddlers are like
Segway riders of the sea.
Lots of hot shot sailors came
through the anchorage in
impossibly large boats, weaving
between everyone under sail
power alone, showing the world
just what amazing sailing skills
they have. It was a little
unnerving when a single guy showed up in
a ketch, a sailboat with two masts and three
sails, all flying. For a moment the bowsprit
on his boat threatened to
hole Groovy right through
the middle, but he turned
just in the nick of time and
anchored perfectly, running
his engine for less than
three minutes as he dropped
the hook.
Big kids, little kids, kids who
ride on boats -- all love La
Playa Cove.
During this time we gradually adapted to our new life at anchor. No longer able to
simply step ashore and walk a few paces to our truck, we now had to get ashore by
boat. We used the kayak at first, as it is just so much fun to run around in. Getting
into the kayak from the back of Groovy can be tricky, since both boats move, and not
always in a synchronized manner. Ferrying family and friends to the boat was a new
experience too. Since the kayak is built for two, and two only, each visitor had to be
brought aboard one at a
time. And a ride in the
kayak is never a dry affair.
Wet butts, wet feet, and
salty hands were the name
of the game, but it was all
such a blast.
When the weekend ended Monday morning, the boats slowly
drained out of the anchorage and we headed over to our new
home base, the A9 anchorage off the end of Harbor Island. This anchorage is free to all non-San Diego County residents, and
you can stay for up to 90 days, renewing your 30 day permit twice. Not quite as picturesque as La Playa Cove, it is still a very
pretty spot. Situated behind a now-closed paddle boat restaurant and very upscale marina, it lies between the San Diego
airport and the Navy's airbase with a great view of downtown.
There is a constant stream of planes coming and going on either
side, and boats of all sizes ply the harbor's waters. Tankers,
cruise ships, Navy ships and sunset cruise boats come and go all
day long, and between them the pleasure boaters fly about at full
speed in power boats and and at half speed in sleek sailboats.
We loved our new spot and continued to adjust to this new life on
the hook. I did a load of laundry by hand, to alleviate the huge
pile-up of dirty clothes that would require a trip ashore by boat to
get to a laundromat. We found little things that were trivial in the
fifth wheel or living at a marina, like getting groceries or disposing
of garbage, now became Major Expeditions. Every trip on or off
the boat required a kayak ride and we got used to hugging our
groceries and balancing bags of trash in our laps as our legs
pushed the pedals.
Mark continued working on the various projects he'd tackled to get
ready for long term cruising in Mexico. Access to the truck was both a
boon and a bust, as it needed to be moved from Shelter Island to
Harbor Island, a distance of several miles. Not a big deal for the
truck, but the kayak on the other hand... Mark's legs were sore after
soloing the kayak against wind and current while I drove the truck
around to meet him.
Late afternoons in the cockpit were pure heaven. We would kick back
and watch the scene around us. Jets arrived in regular one minute
intervals to our left, the coast guard choppers hovered over their base
just a little further on, and the Navy jets exploded into the skies across
the harbor on our right. It wasn't a tranquil anchorage, but the hum of
human activity was intoxicating in its own way.
What a surprise it was, as we sat there one afternoon, to see
the full moon suddenly appear above the city skyline right in
front of us. Mother Nature still sets the stage for all human
activities, even in our biggest cities. It hovered and winked
over the glowing buildings, welcoming us to our new life of
boondocking on the water. Happily, many more enjoyable
days in San Diego's anchorages lay ahead of us.