Tuesday morning, January 17th, we got up early (4:30) and checked weather sailing plan one more time.
Take off sail covers, prep cockpit and bring up snack bag. The snack bag contains things like apples, chips, crackers, nuts, chocolate, pre-made PB&J sandwiches, etc. so you don’t have to dig through the larder and it minimizes my going below if I am worried about getting sea sick.

Vernon removes the dock lines and I back Encore out of the slip and into the early morning darkness at 520 am. Start my travel time on my watch. And head out toward the mouth of Ensenada Bay. It is cold out here on the water and I am well layered. Below: Thermal long johns, jeans and two pair of high socks. Up top: Thermal top, long sleeve t-shirt, long sleeve pullover sweater, vest and black jacket. And neck warmer and gloves. Did I tell you how cold it is on the ocean and I hate being cold. I snap a few pictures of Ensenada prior to and just after sunrise.

And we are off. 36 hours of sailing ahead. What do you do during that time you ask. One person has responsibility of watching for other boats, checking engine temp, checking for water coming out the back, checking heading, course and speed over ground, depth and checking sail trim if the sails are up. The other person can nap, go below, or sit and keep watcher company. Vernon and I usually both hang out and are sure to call out when you are going below or going to try to sleep. This is like looking out the window of the car prior to everyone having tv’s to entertain themselves and the kids on long road trips. You self- entertain. Vernon and I talk, ask trivia topics of each other and read a little if conditions are okay. Vernon spends a lot of time with the charts plotting the course and setting waypoints. Mostly when I am alone on deck I sing. Yes, you should be glad you are not there with me. As the sun comes up I sing any song I can think of with the sun in it: Here comes the sun; Sunrise, Sunset; You are my Sunshine, etc. I count to 100, from 100 down, by threes, by twos. I replay movies or books in my head. I think about family and friends and what they might be doing at that moment: rolling over in a warm bed, driving to work, eating lunch at Hoag cafeteria. I do all these things then look at my watch and only 20 minutes have past. It is like a bad sitcom where the person is waiting and trying to pass the time but it isn’t moving. After a while I get into a rhythm and am more comfortable with doing nothing but watching out the horizon.

During the day you see clumps of seaweed or pieces of driftwood on the water and you try to avoid. I don’t think we have ever made a long passage without some seaweed getting caught on the rudder. Slows you down. At night you don’t see them so we are bound to catch some.

I look out for sea life: seals and dolphins and when they do pop up a head near the boat or frolic on the waves, I call out Hi. I have always done this. Can’t stop. Vernon always laughs and does a squeaky voice: “Oh Hi Terri, how you doing?”

And I wish for whales. I love seeing the spout line in the distance and watching the direction they travel. I hope for a closer look.

The sea has small swells and the wind is 3 knots so we motor along.  At 830 I see whale spouts in the distance. At least 3 different whales. Heading south. We are closing in on them and Vernon points out that another sail boat was hit by a whale and sunk the ship not long ago. Time to go into safety mode. Up comes the life raft. Tied to deck in front of dodger with a knife mount on vang so you could cut it loose if needed. We have a ditch bag with water, food (peanut butter cracker sandwiches because I like and they are easy to grab) and an EPIRB – an Emergency Position Indicating Repeating Beacon. When dropped in the water it sends out a single that shows we are in distress and where we are. We have horseshoe safety ring with flag pole and light that you through off if someone goes overboard. We have harnesses with pull ring that turns into life vest and attached light. And we have a screamer – We both wear a little alert system that starts screaming obnoxiously if you get out of line of sight of control box for long. Mine is finicky and goes off even when I am sitting right there.

Anyway back to the whales, as we approach their path they spout and flute and dive in unison.

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9am: for 20 minutes it seems like the wind is up enough to sail. Put up main but just used to stabilize the motor sailing.

10am: site more spouts closing in but can’t get picture. Try to put camera lens up to binocular – can capture far away shot. Wait, wait. No more spouts.

1015am: time for chart review with Vernon so we are both aware of course plan and position. To avoid a reef we will stay west of 116 longitude. Vernon set a way point in the navigation system for 100 miles. So about 10pm tonight it will alarm that we are at that spot. We review process if something catastrophic should happen (hit a whale or reef). Tie off life raft cord, toss overboard, climb in and cut rope. Be careful not to cut the raft. But I am not wearing a knife, so I guess I’ll have to wait for Vernon. They real safety is to be smart about the decision we make to start with.

I take watch. Starting singing Beatles’ songs. Get stuck on Strawberry Fields. Have you heard me try to sing? I was not blessed but no one can her me, not even Vernon over the hum of the engine, so… I try all different styles: falsetto, opera, skipping a lyric, using ‘Wa Wa’ for the lyrics, then Elmo style. Digress to Sesame Street song about ‘one of these things is not like the other’. Back to Strawberry Fields. I check my watch, 1025am. Passing slowly.

The Baja coast looks like a birthday cake with layers of dirt. Very brown and dry – no noticeable vegetation. I watch the shore line pass and constantly access if I could make that swimming. I used to swim in high school and college and even went back to distance swimming as an adult for a while. 5 miles, I can make that 10 miles, sure. 26 miles- like from Long Beach to Catalina. Hmmm.

Vernon comes up, takes a look around and plants a big kiss on me. “Wanted to be sure no one was looking”. Gotta love that guy.

Fly lands in cockpit, wonder how far they can fly without needing to land. File that to look up when I get wifi again.

As we motor sail along, Vernon starts cleaning the deck windows then the stanchions.img_1302-copyI decide to clean the dodger windows. That is a sure bet that the wind and seas will increase and break over the deck and get my nice windows all salty again. Cleaning makes me a little nauseated so I go back to watching out.

1200noon: Wow. Celebrate with peanut butter cracker pack. Cuz I like them. And apple eaten finely to small chunks. Just in case…

1205pm: Sea breeze is building and swells are too. We decide to pull out the jib but won’t unfurl, too tight. Spinnaker halyard is caught around top. 30 minutes of pulling, twisting, untwisting one way then back (and some cursing) and it comes free and we restore the jib. Sea breeze 6 knots and swells 3 feet.

I nap for 40 minutes on deck. Wind up to 15 and we are motor sailing at 8.5 knots.

320pm: We are now 10 hours into a predicted 36 hour sail. The engine hum and creak and clack of boat parts, and water rushing past the boat are steady.

339pm: We almost hit a whale! Did not see any spouting action but with one spout it surfaced about 75 feet directly ahead. Vernon quickly disables auto pilot and veers to port. Incredible, it rolls on its side at the surface as we just slide past it.

Next few hours pass and it is 520pm. 12 hours into the journey. Safety gear set. The sun is going down…img_4924

I hate this part.