Although I’ve been sailing my

whole life, I’m rather new to cruising. Last year, I followed the dream and purchased a sailboat instead of a starter home. Quickly ideas of a major cruise took shape, and a year and a half later, I set off with my boyfriend from Seattle to sail the great Pacific Coast in our 35’ cutter, Velella. Many people listen to our adventure wistfully, exclaiming about our paradise life. But what we learned very early on about the cruising life still holds true every day: “Paradise” is jam-packed with trials and tribulations. It looks so lovely (and it is!), but by no means is it idyllic. Take, for example, our impossibly

romantic side-trip to Napa Valley. In the middle of our sound sleep at an idyllic vineyard-side anchorage, the river became uncannily still. Sure enough, when I peeked out of the cabin, the cows grazing on shore had meandered a whole lot closer. The moon was full and cast its majestic silvery light all over the mudflats that were creeping very close to our boat as the tide (10 miles upriver!) drained out. No wonder we weren’t moving: we’d slowly and unknowingly sunk ourselves into the mud. At that point there was nothing to be done because the tide was about to rise again. Instead of putting out another anchor and trying to kedge ourselves out in the middle of the night, Prescott made me exercise the most patience I think I’ve even concentrated in once place, and we just waited. We sat on the starboard side (the deeper water side), and watched about five episodes of LOST until we sensed that we were buoyant again. It felt great to get back to the deeper

water of San Francisco Bay the following day, but before we could enjoy one full night knowing we weren’t going to hit ground, we fell in. Yep, full moon, 1:00 a.m., straight up to our necks, full purse, feet last, fell in. There’s a technique to launching a dinghy into surf and we obviously haven’t quite mastered it yet. We do this: he pushes the boat up to the surf so my shoes don’t get wet, then I jump in up to the bow and start kind of jumping as the waves push up under us to wedge the stern off a bit more, and then he jumps in last over the stern and starts rowing out, then I move over him to the stern because the boat balances better that way. If I

“Velella” rocking in the surge in front of Santa Cruz’s waterside theme park.

The Salt of Life

Newbie cruisers get “baptized” by the sea.

Story and Photos by Meghan Cleary

were on shore watching this, I would secretly be rooting for us to fall in. This time, he jumped too

vehemently. I lost my balance and grabbed him to steady myself. I emitted a rising “aaaaaahhhhhoooOOOO!” before I felt the salty, icy water fill inside my coat, mittens, jeans, boots, and ran up to the beach while Prescott was yelling, “Get in you idiot; we’re

out here now we might as well just step in from waist deep!” We rowed back to Velella as I threatened to pee my pants from the cold, then stripped the sand filled clothes off in the gale-force- windy cockpit (HORRIBLE), and ran downstairs to thaw out in front of the fireplace. Since then we’ve left San Francisco

Sea lions are not cute like seals, they’re big, stubborn and territorial.

and made two beautiful day trips along the southern California coast, stopping in Half Moon Bay and Santa Cruz. The guidebook says Santa Cruz is a year-round summer vacation spot and surfer’s haven. Turns out “surfer’s haven” is definitely a warning word to sailors on the hook. As rookies who didn’t know the difference, we “la-dee- da” paddled toward shore one morning and realized on reaching the surf line that, indeed,the surf was actually quite surfable. Great for a surfboard, not for a dinghy. We did our best to time our run between crashing waves but completely failed. Prescott jumped out in waist deep water, and I, determined not to get my new jeans salt-soaked, stayed in the boat and desperately paddled

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