This youngster speaks a little English and is a very effective saleslady for her native crafts.

Photo by Deb Burton in Antigua, Guatemala

May 28, 2013 return from Antigua Guatemala to Tapachula, Chiapas, Mexico

Street scene in Antigua, Guatemala: Indigenous women in traditional dress

 Just one of the things you may see on the street

Indigenous woman in traditional dress

These dugout canoes are part of the permanent exhibit in a large space where native crafts are displayed and sold.

Our new friends Mark and Dale

Remains of the convent of Neuesto Senora de La Merced

Passing tourist in Antigua, Guatemala

Sunday morning in Antigua, Guatemala - The flute and drum calling people to prayer.  Well, perhaps they are just playing for contributions to their basket.

Municipal government building with central square “Zocalo” on the left

We run out of time on our 180 day Mexican visa, so we head to Antigua, Guatemala.  Though it is hard to get info about renewing the visa, we hear consistent “opinions” that we should leave the country for 24 hours and we can get another 180 day visa on our return to Mexico.

We catch a bus bound from Tapachula, Chiapas, MX to Ciudad Guatemala, Guatemala after a 5:30 a.m. start and only minor complications at the terminal.  Half an hour later we are not only outside the city, we were at the border crossing.  Everybody climbs off the bus and files into the Mexican customs office dragging their luggage.  We pay about $25 USD for the privilege of leaving.  Next, we head into the street where enterprising men and boys with fists full of currency eagerly offer to exchange Mexican Pesos for Guatemalan Quetzales or vise-versa.  This is a little unnerving because there are lots of strangers pestering the travelers on an open road with very little security and very little motorized traffic.  There is no trouble however and we drag our luggage across the bridge to Guatemala where we entered their customs office and clear in easily.

During this time we meet fellow passengers Mark and Dale, Minnesotans who lived in Antigua for ten years.  They are missionaries who work with alcoholics, drug addicts and homeless on the streets of Antigua.  They also host Youth-with-a-Mission youngsters who travel from the USA to Antigua to help with mission projects.  Together with their two children, they helpfully answer questions about what to expect and allay Gregg’s fears of robbery on the street.

Arriving in Guatemala City we make a quick stop at the convenience store ATM, then take a taxi to Antigua.  After a 40 minute ride our driver drops us at the hotel recommended by our mission friends and we are soon settled in and rested.

I hate to make too much fuss over a restaurant, but La Pena del Sol refreshes us body and soul.  We arrive at a quiet time and order a marinated olive appetizer which comes with caramelized carrots, oil and vinegar.  This and the main course are prepared to be visual as well as taste treats.  As we sit in this restaurant in a city far from the coast, an American stops at our table and says: “What kind of a boat do you have?”  We learn that he has a sailboat on the Gulf of Mexico coast of Guatemala.  He says he can usually spot boaters by their clothes.  We soon learn he is a resident of Antigua, the proprietor of this restaurant and he and his wife started it without prior knowledge of the hospitality business.  You’ve come a long way baby.

The pleasant environs of the town square beckon us.  If there are security concerns, we see no signs of them.  On this walk about, we see a couple of churches ruined by earthquakes, a street market, several tourist-oriented gift shops and a central square where children play, families lounge and visit with friends.

We return to La Pena del Sol for a band with pan pipes, conga drums and strings.  These are not Columbian pan pipes.  The costume tends to jeans and Ts and the music is Mexican.  One member  dances very light and lively for each number, often a sort of side-to-side cha-cha.  Occasionally a mandolin sized twelve string guitar comes out.  I have no idea what this is.  Help me out here Andy?  In case it’s not obvious, at least three of the four members can play pipes, guitar and percussion with equal confidence.  I don’t know what kind of music this is but I love it.

Next morning Gregg goes to “Iglesia del Calle” a church where the entire service is done in Spanish and English, including the hymns.  The message is about treating others as you want to be treated and I find myself very sympathetic to the delivery which emphasizes treating women and minorities with respect and sharing with the less fortunate.  The service is held in a restaurant courtyard.

Later Dale and Mark pick us up in their Jeep and take us up a short steep road to a hotel, restaurant and sculpture garden on a mountain overlooking the town.  This is a first class place and very busy.  We order drinks and appetizers and watch the occasional rain squall drift across Antigua Valley while we enjoy lively conversation and learn more about their lives in the very foreign place.  Dale and Mark make us feel comfortable and welcome.

On the trip back to Mexico, we spend two hours in Guatemala City which has its own character but seems gritty, edgy and industrial.  Back at the border, we receive the hoped for visa and continue home to Kalliope.

March 29, 2013, Good Friday.  We take the bus from La Cruz to Bucerrias where Deb buys a lightweight dress and breakfast from street vendors.  We have fun visiting with several different Hiuchol artisans offering their art in the square.  They are very engaging friendly and pleasant as they patiently explain something about their culture and art.  We converse with sign and Spanish, a second language for all.

Native American - Hiuchol

 

 Next we wait almost an hour for the “Way of the Cross;” Via de los Cruzes to leave the Mission. It gets hotter by the minute and there is competition for shady spots in the courtyard. Why are several participants carrying small towels? I expect the procession to circle a couple of blocks and return to the Mission. Instead the route is about a mile along dirt streets through poor neighborhoods to a high ridge. The procession is led by Jesus, two Marys, two other convicts who did not carry crosses, and two centurions. There are 12 Stations of the Cross set up with temporary icons on the walls of homes along the way. The lessons are read and hymns sung at each station and Jesus struggles with the cross and the heat as we all ascend the steep path. Our small discomforts stumbling on the rocky surface and enduring the heat help us understand the suffering of Jesus. The small towels are employed mopping up streams of sweat from the pilgrims who thought to bring them. One tiny old woman in particular at first seems much too frail to endure this test but she is equal to the challenge. Well wishers take Jesus down from the cross and carry him to the tomb and the ceremony is concluded. We participants make our way back to the Mission.

 

Fellow pilgrim participating in Via de los Cruzes

 

Music and dance in Puerto Vallarta.

They say the cosutmes are a salute

to the Aztec culture but not strictly accurate.

 

Stone sculpture, Puerto Vallarta

 

Sand Sculpture Puerto Vallarta - Not

a real person

Sand sculpture Puerto Vallarta - this

is a real person; hot and itching

 

We have a bit of a hike and some confusion before finding a place to catch the bus from Puerto Vallarta back to La Cruz. This is not worth mentioning except that we take a detour upon hearing a band a block off our route. There in a side street intersection are a dozen musicians with lots of percussion and brass playing a series of lively tunes. We cannot establish any reason for the event other than joy in the music. This is a free concert not to be missed!

OK - a word of explanation here:  This blog is in reverse chronological order.  We were in Puerto Vallarta later and San Blas earlier.  The following is from San Blas.  I don't know the dates.

 

This was in a mostly urban area of San Blas

where these cattle graze roadside and vacant lot.

The man seemed concerned with protecting Deb

from the cattle.

We take a tourist package tour of a bayou with

turtles, lots of birds and crocodiles up to ten feet!

This is close to San Blas.

Even with the roof long gone, this old church in

San Blas still inspires reverence

 

Stoner's Surf Camp in San Blas 

the best in American diplomacy?

March 10, 2013.  Our sail today is a hoot.  We leave Isla Isabela about ten a.m. thinking we will take 24 hours to sail to San Blas.  By one p.m. the wind is blowing 18 knots right over the stern.  I steer by hand for several hours with the full main and no jib.  This is one of the few situations where my steering is better than the electronic autopilot.  By seven p.m. we drop anchor at our destination just before the wind dies.  The palm trees lining the beach at the western end of this bay are silhouetted against the blood red sunset; what a beautiful sight.  This was the first time I can remember that we arrived somewhere ahead of schedule.  The hillsides here are green, a sharp contrast to Isla Isabela and the area near La Paz.

Oooo,  Ahhhh

March 9, 2013.  We have a great day ashore walking the northern trail on Isla Isabela & visiting with the naturalists.  We meet a dozen young people camped at the best spot for us to land in our tender.  They are all biology students from Mexico City.  The leader is a male PHD candidate who speaks excellent English and is doing his thesis on the blue footed booby.  Their camp is surrounded by nests where the boobies are incubating their eggs and raising their young.  These people are interested in our journeys and our way of life.  We, in turn are happy to learn something about their lives and about the natural wonders of Isla Isabela.

 

Hiking Isla Isabela

 

Terrain on Isla Isabela

Here is what I saw during our two day visit.  The island is about two miles long and half a mile wide with predominantly steep shoreline of volcanic rock.  There is enough rainfall to support stunted trees reaching a height of no more than 30 feet.  The island is thirty miles or so from the mainland and because there are few predators it is a rookery for three varieties of boobys.  Did you ever think a blue footed booby was anything other than a fairy tale?  They are real.  These ducks make their nests in shallow depressions on the ground where the parents alternate keeping the eggs warm and flying out to sea to catch small fish.  When the chicks hatch, the same pattern continues with the adults guarding the nest and foraging for dinner in shifts.  The mating behavior for the male consists of a series of whistles, wing postures and lifting a bright blue foot high off the ground to show off that unique feature.  Females act coy and aloof.  In early March, there are mated pairs incubating eggs and still others raising chicks.

 

Well, these are Brown Footed Boobies

 

Blue Footed Boobies show off like this.

 

Resulting later in this:

Other birds found here include white tropic birds, the ones with the impossibly long thin tail feathers, pelicans, the ones that like to perch and poop on our boat and the “Magnificent Frigatebirds.”  In my informal census, the frigates outnumber any other species on Isla Isabela.  The boobies are concentrated along the shoreline and the frigates nest in trees in the interior.  The frigatebird is a large black bird with long thin wings and a deeply forked tail.  Though often seen far from land, they cannot take off from the water, so they return daily (?) to rest on land.  Well, their captivating feature is a red throat which the male develops in mating season and inflates like a balloon to attract attention from females.  

Impressive?

On Isla Isabela Gregg has his lifetime first encounter with iguanas. These are brown and blend in well with the dead leaves along the trail. They generally wait until we get close then run with a great deal of noise and scattering of leaves until they dive into their hole. Once in a while, we find a bold one who just sits there in the sun in the middle of the trail and ogles the funny looking biped.

 

Iguana on Isla Isabela

 

After describing one more creature from this amazing island, I will fold up my laptop and go home.  Thank you for your patience, dear reader.  We know from the guidebook that this island is home to something called the Mexican milk snake.  I certainly never expect to see one, but Deb spots one in the trail.  It is a tiny little thing but very brightly colored.  It apparently is not poisonous but imitates the coloration of the highly poisonous coral snake.  This one wriggles among the leaves for a minute or two, finds its hidey hole and disappears.

March 5, 2013.  It is three a.m. on a calm night at sea.  It is the kind of calm that drives cruising sailors crazy.  The sails are up to catch any wind that may come, but the boat rocks in the swell slamming the main sail from side to side and, in this case, causing an insufferable squeal at a fitting on the boom.

I boil some noodles and bullion and make a pot of soup that missed the flavor mark worse than usual but it is filling and the few fresh vegetables make me think it has vitamins.  As I sit on the steps spooning soup from the bowl on the companionway hatch, I search the darkness for any sign of ships or a light from the island “Isabela” which is our destination for this three day passage.  Then I hear it.  The forceful breath and soft splash of a dolphin surfacing – then another and another.  How many sailors have been fascinated and soothed by the companionship of these gentle creatures?  Well, it has been a long watch, but my belly is full, I am surrounded by friends and life is good!

February 10, 2013.   At five we leave for the  La Paz Mardi Gras parade.  It starts an hour late but we have fun watching the vendors and their customers.  There is a dance team of five scantily clad girls on the stage sponsored by Tecate beer.   I think: “This is out of place in this conservative Roman Catholic society.”  But, when the parade files past, there are lots more girls and guys in brief outfits so the Tecate performance was not too far out of line.  The 20 large floats with elaborate decorations and dancers and marchers and music for each one are impressive.  The shoulder to shoulder crowd five deep on the roadside is enthusiastic and sometimes throws eggs which break on the floats scattering confetti.  I think the only float throwing things to the crowd is the Fresca soft drink float.  There is a substantial police presence and lots of drinking in the crowd but neither rowdiness nor crime is evident.  Deb takes lots of pictures and visits in sign language with a family next to us on the curb.  After the parade we walk in the dense crowd for over an hour just observing the food, beverage, performance on multiple stages and the people themselves.  It is easy to see from their dress who is foreign and who is at home.  Less than one percent are foreign and less than one percent of the spectators are in costumes but it is a different one percent.  Eventually we walk a mile and a half home to tuck our tired selves into bed.

 

Parade Guys and . . .

 

Girls and . . .

 

Spectators in spectacles

Photos by Deborah B.

 February 7, 2013.  Sailing the last few miles into La Paz today, we see lots of fuss in the water where whale sharks are known to feed.  Diverting over to the locale where the birds are diving we find several pods of dolphins apparently feeding on schools of baitfish.  We take full advantage of the best opportunity for a long time to photograph the dolphin.  This makes a final fun experience of the natural world before returning to the world of automobiles, tall buildings and convenient hot showers.

It is a small dolphin of a type common in Sea of Cortez

January 21, 2013.  Sailing north from Bahia Agua Verde in light winds, we find ourselves ready for a rest with no harbor nearby.  As we approach the north end of Monserrate Island a panga speeds toward us with the crew waving a dirty gallon water jug.  I gesture for him to come over and am happy we have water to spare.  He must have burned almost a gallon of gas to make the two mile trip from his camp to meet us.  Fishermen spend weeks camped on remote islands in conditions that would have to improve considerably to be Spartan.  There is no fresh water and they occasionally approach yachts requesting resupply.  These two are very dark skinned, not very talkative, but appear grateful.  Leaving the fishermen with their fresh drink, we are still without a harbor so we drop anchor near an exposed shore with a sand beach. We’ll be fine if the winds do not exceed the forecast.

Fishermen at Isla Isabela delivering to a

tender who will take fish to market in Santiago.

We began to think of Tembabiche fisherman

Manuel as Gregg's friend after several visits.

In an area known as Tembabiche, we spend a day ashore hiking through the sparse vegetation admiring the tide pool creatures and scrambling over the rocks.  Some of these rocks have dramatic color and shapes apparently resulting from wind and wave erosion.  Also in this area we see the same fisherman several times over several days.  “Manuel”  approaches us to sell fish of course, but on days he has poor luck fishing, he offers embroidered placemats his wife made and even old fishing lures.

January 20, 2013.  We arrive in the popular Agua Verde Bay and paddle ashore to get the feel of the village.  It rests on the alluvial fan of an arroyo where it is about half a mile wide along the beach.  A boy of about 15 walks out to meet us where we beach our tender, answers a few questions and guides us to a store.  He announces that this is the more expensive of the two stores and encourages us to go on in.  We pick up a few items, including a coke for the boy, then walk farther back from the beach where trails and dirt roads wind among the houses.  We admire the well-kept gardens and speculate on whether some of the chickens are actually fighting cocks.  One house has a sign offering tortillas.  We place our order and pick up a bag of delicious fresh hot tortillas 20 minutes later.

Agua Verde and Roca Solitaria in Distance

 

On our return to the Kalliope, Deb swims with mask and fins, observing the many varieties of fish around the rocks and Gregg pauses a long time beside another sailboat and visits with the resident who shows no obvious signs of substance abuse but still seems to be “Wasting away in Margaritaville.”  How many say the same thing about us?

January 14, 2013.  This is a beautiful day of clear skies and gentle breezes sailing along the east coast of Baja.  We appreciate this day all the more because several days this past week were too windy for enjoyable sailing.  Fortunately we spend three of these days in a beautiful and well-protected anchorage.

Too windy

 

Today we see over a dozen humpback whales in the afternoon.  One pair travels close to us for some time.  We think they are cow and calf.  Another animal, the closest one, appears to be sleeping vertical in the water.  The nose, if that was what it was, comes above the surface briefly at about three minute intervals and what we see is a glistening black mound about two feet above the water and three feet across.  Too small for a full grown humpback?  There is no spout or other evidence of breathing other than the cadence of its appearance and we see no blowhole or mouth.

What part of a whale could this be?

 

January 8, 2013.  Two weeks fly by with friends Terry, Yelena and Sasha visiting from Anchorage.  We sail a little, hike around the islands a little and visit a lot.  There is nothing like five people in a small boat for getting better acquainted.  When it blows hard we stay anchored in some bay with a sandy beach and a spot or two of mangroves.  At the south end of Isla San Jose we take two tenders ashore, portage over a gravel bar and explore channels through the mangroves in the lagoon beyond.  Fish, birds and turtles enchant us.  On Christmas Eve we read the story of the nativity and sing a few carols a cappella.  When the wind is right we sail for a new anchorage.  New crew members learn to work the lines controlling the sails and occasionally troll a jig hoping to hook a dorado. No fish are harmed while making this memory.  At Isla San Francisco, we meet a fellow who sailed around the world from Tasmania, Australia and declares this to be the most hospitable place he has seen.  We also meet a couple on an Australian sailboat Terry and I saw in Yakutat, Alaska two years ago.

These folks really know how to handle boats.

 

In a bay on Isla Espiritu Santo, we see manta rays doing aerial acrobatics.  They jump clear of the water flapping their ‘wings’ much like they would to swim.  Then they belly-flop onto the surface apparently creating as much sound, splash and disturbance as they can.  For variety, they do somersaults and corkscrew in flight.  They are concentrated in a small area and it seems like there are 12 of them.  They are about 15 pounds each, black on top, white underneath with a long skinny tail.  If this is too clinical, blame it on Gregg’s current reading of “Log from the Sea of Cortez” by John Steinbeck.

Darndest thing I ever saw . . .

Photo by Deb B.

Fascinating Creatures

 

December 18, 2012.  We anchor early after an overnight trip including a rough ride in 25 kt. winds.  But today is another day: clear, warm and calm.  We are at Isla Espiritu Santo just north of La Paz, Baja California.  Ballinas Bay is decorated with two stark rocky Islands.  The arid climate is apparent from the sparse vegetation dominated by cactus.  A few spots of mangroves are a deep green contrasting sharply with the red and gray rocks and soil of the island.  As soon as the anchor is down, Deb appears with mask and flippers, sets up the boarding ladder and in she goes!  This is the first swim of the journey and it is so very refreshing.  There is an abundance of sea life including rays, schools of sardines or something similar, and lots of shellfish.  Gregg follows Deb in the tender.  There are many diversions as she swims to shore: “Gregg look, this fish is following me.  Oh, here is an old anchor.”  When closer to shore, Gregg sheds the long pants and shirt, ties the tender to his ankle and slips into the water for a short dip.  This feels like the tropical paradise we anticipated.

Here is the photographer

December 16, 2012.  What a lucky guy I am!  At age ten, I wrote in a journal that I want to grow up to sail around the world.  Though I stayed involved with small boats most of my life, it was sporadic sailing or motoring after high school.  When I was 45, I met a lady that will be my partner for the rest of my life if I get my way.  When I was 55 she said she wanted to go sailing with me.  When I was 64, she insisted we do it now.  So we have been sailing full time for the past seven months and we have covered the Pacific coast from British Columbia, Canada to La Paz and Loreto in Baja California.  My dream comes true.  If it ends tomorrow, if we don’t circle the globe, it doesn’t matter.  These have been a wonderful seven months and I owe it all to Debbie.

A lucky guy and wonderful gal

 

December 13, 2012.  Deb is persuaded to bypass Cabo San Lucas in favor of a new marina just up the way at San Jose del Cabo.  It is nice, but overpriced.  We have a pleasant meal al fresco on the street at the head of the ramp from our slip.  So our first Mexican restaurant meal is prepared not by a senora, but by a 67 year old man from North Africa who grew up speaking Berber.  From Ali we learn there are four Berber tribes in Morocco and the areas to the East.  He says: “I lived in Africa, Germany, France, the East Coast of Mexico and now the West Coast.  What can I say; I am nomad.”

We visit a couple of unique spots coming south from San Diego to San Jose del Cabo.  Bahia Magdalena leads the list.  There is a good anchorage near the sandy beach by the fishing village (200 souls?).  We paddle ashore and look for the port captain to check in.  He is not home but finds us later and eats some of Deb’s spaghetti.  We walk around and find the sweet shop, grocery house and some guys building lobster pots on the beach.  When we return to Kalliope, we find two ospreys perched in the rigging.

Trust me, there were two

 

In the evening we entertain Gary and Colleen who sailed near us the day before.  He is in the machine shop business and able to spend (six?) months a year cruising the west coast in their 38’ sailboat.  Like us, they are heading for a holiday rendezvous, but theirs is in Puerto Vallarta or was it Mazatlan?  Colleen sounds like she might have been Irish back in the early days.  They have two daughters, now emancipated, one living in Glasgow and one back at their home on Vancouver Island.   Their boat is noteworthy for the bicycles hanging on the rails outside the cockpit and for the large Canadian flag.

Dateline: San Luis Obispo Bay, October 31, 2012

While Kalliope spends over a month in Monterey Harbor her owners visit Palo Alto, New York and San Diego to visit family and friends.Between travels ashore we enjoy Monterey where we find a small town with good public transportation, good health care and free wi-fi provided by the city.

There is also abundant wildlife in the harbor.  Recently a large school of sardines entered the harbor and were unable to find their way out.  The resident California Sea Lions patrol the harbor in packs of six to sixteen and aggressively hunt the remaining sardines.Following the sardines are cormorants, gulls, herons and pelicans.  The pelicans circle overhead and, when they spot a careless fish, fold their wings and dive violently into the water.  I found this quite unnerving when one hit the water close enough to splash me as I walked by on the float.  The sea lions come to the surface, take a quick breath, roll on their side, lift one flipper in the air and dive for another tasty morsel.  As I walk down the float toward shore a single fish, apparently pursued by the sea lions, jumps out of the water and lands on the walkway.  It has time to flop only once before one of the waiting gulls grabs and swallows it a split second before other gulls converge to steal it from the lucky one.  The fish was large relative to the size of the gull, so it seems quite remarkable that the bird was able to swallow it at all.
 

Birds on float in Monterey wait for hapless sardine.


The Gull catches one.



The others try to steal it from him/her.

The regal heron is above the fray . . .

 

but the sea lions are in the thick of it.

 

Awaking at anchor in the calm water of Morro Bay’s small boat harbor, we grab a quick bite, launch the tender and paddle a short way to a public float provided for folks like us. Then we walk the other half of town, the half we didn’t walk yesterday evening. The town is in the shadow of a“volcanic plug” which rises from the surf to a height of 580 feet with very steep sides and a roughly circular footprint. The surrounding sea, land and beach are relatively flat in contrast. Our morning walk takes us along a park-like footpath past commercial fishing boats, restaurants, a large electric power generation plant and a small Coast Guard station to an undeveloped area that includes a beach and this big rock known as Morro Rock. A busy parking lot serves the adjacent beach where lots of surfers suit up for the adventure. I comment that this may be the most surfers I’ve ever seen in one place. Though it is a relatively calm day, there is still a respectable swell breaking on the beach and we enjoy watching the athletes ride wave after wave.

Throughout our walk we occasionally ask each other if we want to take the short sail from here to San Luis Obispo or wait one more day. Mexico is calling Gregg and he finally decides he wants to get another 20 miles closer. We walk back to the tender, paddle to Kalliope, stow the gear, crank the engine, pull the anchor and move on out to sea. As the wind is calm, we motor to the south, eventually, in a show of optimism, unfurling the big jib sail. Our course leads close to shore and we enjoy the unfolding view of beach, dunes and eventually bluffs rising from the water. As is often the case, the wind picks up in the afternoon and the sail pulls well. We give the engine a rest.

October 30, 2012

Approaching San Simeon in the dark and fog, it occurs to me that a few months ago we would heave-to and wait for daylight to make this approach but increasing confidence allows us to anchor up in this secure shelter and get a good rest before pushing on. A wise old man once told me serious boating accidents happen mostly to people who get over-confident, so we are being very careful.

We are equipped with good charts and multiple GPS devices. By carefully monitoring both, we can know where we are and the direction to the desired anchorage. We even know when an unlighted black hulk looms out of the fog that it is the pier shown on the chart. We don’t know, except by direct observation that the one bright light visible is a commercial fishing boat at anchor and it is a good reference point for our anchorage. As we set the anchor, we hear the surf on the beach just to the north. The next morning the fog clears somewhat and we can see the beach and gentle surf.

Gregg thinkd this is a vulture circling

over the barrier island at Morro Bay.

 

We clear the buoy marking the shoals off Point Buchon and see an apparition in the distance.  There are two huge domes, each somewhat like Morro Rock, (remember Morro Rock?)  But, they are too regular to be anything but man-made.  They are marked on the chart simply as “domes” but a security zone is also noted on the chart.  By hauling out the pilot book, a NOAA publication which provides some narrative on coastal features, I learned that boats are not allowed within 2,000 yards of the Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant.  My ignorance on this topic is now slightly reduced.  We probably would have seen this huge installation from 20 miles away if we approached from the west.  It looks very vulnerable from a 21^st century perspective.

The wind continues to increase and the sun comes out as we turn to the east following the coast.  This gives us a more favorable angle to the wind improving our speed and soon we are in San Luis Obispo Bay, protected from the NE wind and swell.  What a great day!

West end of Anacapa Island near Santa Barbara. A funny thing happened here:

 

November 6, 2012  HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! A loud horn wakes me from a deep sleep.  With my eyes open, I can see we are being swept with searchlights.  The time is 4:30 a.m.  I emerge from the hatch showing only head and shoulders.  “Come on out.” commands an authoritative amplified voice.  I emerge showing both hands and wearing socks, jockey shorts and a smile.  Have you ever seen a skinny wrinkled sixty-five year old man in shorts and a smile?  The approaching craft is easily recognized as a standard government issue U.S. Coast Guard motor lifeboat.  I run down a mental checklist.  We have  proper documents, proper lights are showing, life vests are within arm’s reach, I made no discharge of sewage or oil, the National Park Service specifically permitted us to anchor here at Anacapa Island; I have nothing to hide.

The voice asks “Is anyone else aboard?”  I tell them my wife is also aboard and, when asked, I deny having any weapons.  At this point they close to within two feet and two armed, uniformed men climb aboard Kalliope.  “I need to check the engine room.” the no-longer amplified voice states, starting down the companionway.  After a cursory look around the cabin, the man returns to the deck and the life boat moves farther away.  “We are sorry to bother you, but we got a report of suspicious activity out here-we have to check it out.  How long have you been here?  Have you seen any activity?”  I ramble on about the small boats that passed in the last two days.  There was also a Navy helicopter supporting yesterday’s live fire exercise to the south.  Of course he wants to see our identification and vessel documentation so we head below while Deb chats up the handsome young man on deck.  I pull on jeans and a shirt before pulling the requested documents and he copies down the data he requires.  Returning to the deck, they apologize again and return to their boat which steams off to the south.

I want to get an early start today in any event, so I enjoy my coffee and cereal while admiring the calm waters of the cove.  As planned, we are underway motoring east along the coast of the island well before daylight.  In the next cove, a catamaran is anchored close in under the cliff with no lights.  It looks much more suspicious than we do and I’ll bet we are the only boat the Coast Guard checked!



Middle of Anacapa Island

 

East end.  Nice place - not crowded - USCG a bit

of a nuisance. Just doing their job I guess.