Galvanized

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Yesterday Holly gave a talk on anchoring at a Lats & Atts boating seminar. I certainly lend a hand when we’re on the water anchoring, but found it intriguing to finally comprehend what actually happens underwater, and how the anchor sets and holds fast.

Then she talked about chain and fittings, and how the anchor is only as strong as the stuff that attaches it to the boat; and to skip buying the bright shiny stainless steel and go right for the galvanized stuff.

Steel is an alloy of iron and carbon … add chromium and you get glittery glitzy stainless. Eye-catching. However stainless can be brittle and weak – and break without warning.

Galvanized steel, on the other hand, is created by etching the steel in chemicals, then dipping it in a pit of molten zinc. (Ouch!) As a result, it’s kind of funky looking and not very pretty, but it’s resistant to corrosion and rust, and long-lasting, even in difficult environments. It’s strong, it’s reliable – and doesn’t go off without notice.

I realize I’ve been spending too much time TRYING to be stainless (vanity!) searching the wrong kind of steel: the superficial shiny variety, when in fact I should be seeking to be fortified by the Lord. ‘Power walking the dog in the morning, heading to the gym at lunchtime, outrigger canoeing or sailing in the evenings and weekend … and just when I’m all wrapped up in my reps and BMI, I get the two-by-four to the temple and a little swishing around in a pit of molten zinc. God has his own plans for my strength training and is galvanizing me by my experiences (… and not so ironically, decorating me with scars and issues that aren’t all that attractive either. What-ever.).

This is one of my favorite FAVORITE Bible passages ever (below). I need to remember that the God who formed the mountains, and placed the stars in the sky, is truly the best ‘personal trainer’ around.

“The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth. He never grows weak or weary. No one can measure the depths of his understanding. He gives strength to the weary and power to the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; Yet those who trust in the LORD will find new strength; They will mount up with wings like eagles, They will run and not get tired, They will walk and not become weary.” - ISAIAH 40:28-31

30 degrees in 30 miles

Aug. 18: What a difference 30 miles makes!

Sunshine was peering in the companionway this morning, even though it was still chilly. The forecasted high pressure system was FINALLY on its way ("Liars!" Holly repeatedly yells at the NOAA weather report on the radio) and we left Cuyler Harbor under hazy skies: MAHALO stuck her nose out into the channel and began a fabulous downwind run in 14 - 27 knot breezes and hefty seas.

A Cal 40, MAHALO easily handles the big wind and water, and the ride was SWEET! We ran along the top side of Santa Rosa Island then cut through the strait between SRI and Santa Cruz Island. Increasingly warm, the gals peeled off layer after layer until at last (!) we were in shorts and t/'tank tops.

We anchored at Coches Prietos - about 2/3 of the way down the south shore of SCI (from the west). It was calm and sunny and we were eager to explore. Madame K took off in her kayak and the rest of us dinghied ashore, and struck out on a trail mid-beach through tall dry grasses, keeping a keen lookout for rattlesnakes. Soon we were winding up down and around on a rugged trail toward the center of the island. The canyon was lush: an oasis; with thick fruit and berry trees, a trickling stream with pollywogs (and later, we discovered; mosquitos) and wildlife.

Hearing some sounds from the brush I turned around and saw a tiny Island Fox behind me. Clearly unafraid, she watched us as we watched her, quite a while. Then she sauntered away, and we continued along the path to a small brook. As we were crossing, the fox reappeared - it seems she'd gone back to get a friend, and they both watched us two-legged creatures with curiousity. She was petite and beautiful with fine features: deep gray, auburn and sable fur, a slender tail, and alert, pointed ears. She was comfortable with us, so much so she sat by the edge of the water and started grooming her business. Hence we knew 'it' was a 'she' ... These indigenous foxes were on the edge of extinction 10 years ago, but an aggressive captive breeding program has brought their population back into the 100s on each island. Her presence was all the more charming, knowing this, and added to our already perfect day.

Now it's nighttime ... the big dipper hangs over the beach, nestled between the huge rock walls that create this cove. The breeze is light, although there's a bit of surge, and I anticipate our most peaceful night (with NO middle of the night alarms set to check the anchor). Tomorrow we leave for Santa Barbara Island, by way of Anacapa: a long sail, but hopefully just as gorgeous as today's!

Everyone is happy, sated, and TIRED. Love to all ~ Betsy

August 19: SCORE - Islands 2, Girls 2, with 2 islands to go ...

Our island bagging trip took another hit today when we got v-e-r-y close to Anacapa, and the landing by the lighthouse on the east end ... but there was too much surge to attempt to launch the dinghy and take the girls ashore. Even so, we rounded Arch Rock twice and took numerous photos of the lighthouse and the hillside below. Had it been snow, as it appeared, it would have made one heck of a toboggan ride, however it was all bird sh** blanketing the massive slope white.

We continued south to Santa Barbara Island, the wind filling in from the west to give us a gorgeous reach for several hours, building til we got in the lee of SBI and to the one anchorage on the island. A couple of Holly's Bluewater Cruising Club friends were here and we waved hello as we passed, then anchored in the swelly but protected waters. Here there are zillions of sea lions, and below the surface of the (frigid) water the ocean floor is carpeted with brittle stars. This trip, nearly 55 miles, took us all day,so we simply made dinner and dessert, and turned in ... in the a.m.we'll explore ashore for a few hours, then head to Catalina at noon.

Lots of laughter, fun, beautiful scenery, and a big ship stacked with fake containers that crossed in front of us saying "TARGET, STAY CLEAR" ... whoops! ~ Betsy

Aug 20: TAG!

Writing from Catalina, where we're anchored at Geiger Cove @ 5:30pm, after a glorious sail across from Santa Barbara Island, where we enjoyed a three-hour hike this morning. Enjoying a celebratory rum drink: six islands in nine day; a fantastic time! Heading home tomorrow midday after a little trek ashore.

All fine, signing off ... Mahalo! ~ Betsy

Salt Water

'There's nothing that cannot be cured by salt water,' to paraphrase Isak Dinesen - meaning tears, sweat or the sea.

 

After one week cruising the Channel Islands, I am feeling well and at peace. Taking my blood pressure today (as I am diligently supposed to do) it is at 118/73 - the best yet - and I announce that I just need to spend the rest of my life sailing, I guess.

 

I love the sea.I love the colors of the ocean, the way the sunlight sparkles on the peaks of the waves, the swathe of Milky Way at night; the playful dolphins, bellowing elephant seas, elegant island fox; the whistling call of the murrelets and peep-peep-peep of the oyster catchers. I love the way the boat is awash with the scent of sage at night; the rock and roll of the sea as I sleep, the warmth of the sun, the wisps of fog curling over the mountaintops, the delicate wildflowers that struggle in the barren scapes, the wind whistling through the rigging, the majestic flowing kelp forests, the juxtaposition of volcanic and sedimentary rocks on the islands, the fresh wind blowing through my snarled hair.

 

Everywhere I see God's hand in this magnificent creation. It puzzles me to think anyone would perceive this all to be a freak of evolution: the miscreation of some frozen rock crystals, a mutation, a big collossal accident. It all seems so deliberate, so beautifully designed. Pure unadulterated nature is so calming and healing; it was designed for us: to nurture us, and delight us. And I don't think God created this all so we could muck it up: I feel strongly our job is to preserve and protect the natural places, which I have been so incredibly blessed to experience so many of.

San Miguel

Aug 17, 9:30pm

It blew - HARD - all night long, but by the time we awoke, it had calmed to 15 or so. Alas we were surrounded by a dense fog, which prevented us from leaving for a warmer, calmer place (which we gathered would be ANYWHERE in the No. Hemisphere - just not here). So we made the best of a lazy morning and Holly made her famous cornbread pancakes. 

 

As we talked about our destination options and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, the sun finally made its promised arrival. Cuyler Harbor is spectacular, with a sweeping crescent bay bookended by huge rock and scrub promontories that protect you from the open sea. There are white sandy beaches occupied by elephant seals, turquoise waters decorated with kelp forests. San Miguel Island is a unique place: surely few people ever come here, and even fewer get to come twice. So Holly made her plea to spend our 'extra' day ashore here ... and seeing it's taken her a lifetime to get here, we gladly conceded.

 

Loading out backpacks with water and sandwiches, we took the dinghy ashore to the mid-point of the beach, closest to the trailhead. It was a short hike along the beach and over some dunes to the beginning of the trek which took us up a steep ravine, dripping with wildflowers of every color. Holly said it was like walking through a palette, there were so many hues; and there were just as many sizes, shapes and textures, from short fat succulent Dudlyea to giant coreopsis, with poppies and morning glories and all sorts of dainty blooms that survive and thrive in this climate.Yes it may be cold and foggy in August, but the benefit is the wildflowers were amazing.

 

Our hike took us up to the Juan Cabrillo monument, past a very sorry looking spare and wind-blown campsite, to the ranger's station. A plane was just landing (we had to scurry across the runway/trail) and the weekly change of hands, of the Park Ranger and researchers, was taking place. After stowing his provisions, Ranger George, a witty elderly British gentleman who volunteers as a ranger, offered to take us to the caliche forest several miles away. The trail took us up and over the island's highest point (800') along moor-like scenery, where onmipresent wisps of fog sped by. At one point we crossed tall sandy dunes - at an elevation of 750'  - the power and tenacity of the wind being rather impressive.

 

The caliche forest appeared along a bluff scattered with huge pom-poms of lupin and 'dune'delions; like a cemetery of pure white stumps, where ghostly swaths of fog danced through. The remants of an acient pine forest, the caliche (calcrete) is a fossil but not truly ... too complex to describe late at night on a darkened night, you'll have to google it. But it was an impressive sight, and after snapping a few photos, and taking the eerie panorama in, we retraced our steps. .

 

Ranger George kept us entertained with details and anecdotes about the island flora and fauna, and his fascinating 70-plus-years of life, and soon the 5-mile round trip was over. As a reward, he offered us some brownies at the station, we started our slightly wobbly hike (we've been boat bound a few days, and were a bit stiff!) back along the trail and down the ravine to the beach (another mile or so). Along the way, a petite island fox (an endemic species) appeared in the trail - and then another. These two adorable young pups eyed us curiously for a few minutes, then walked into the dense coreopsis grove. It was the icing on the cake, a fabulous day.

 

After a refreshingly splashy (the water temp is mid 50s) dinghy ride, we took turns showering ... it never really got sunny enough to warm up the sunshower, so our baths were brisk and quick! Leftover lasagna and salad were on the menu and everyone turned in fairly swift. Kathleen announced this has been one of the biggest adventures of her life... and heck, we're not even halfway through the trip yet ;-)

 

Tomorrow we leave earlyish for Santa Cruz again. We expect a nice following breeze so will sail over the top of Santa Rosa, then duck into the passage between Santa Rosa and Santa Cruz, and head east to an anchorage on the south side. Thursday we'll make our way to Santa Barbara Island, by way of Anacapa, and Friday we'll head over to the Isthmus, on Catalina. By then, we hope and pray, we will meet up with some SUNNY and WARM weather!!

 

The gals are all sound asleep, well, happy and full. Love to all ~ Betsy

 

 

Santa Barbara and beyond!

August 14 - Our first leg, Long Beach to Santa Barbara, was successul -- a bit frisky, until 1AM, when the seas finally laid down a bit. We were hopeful of seeing the Perseids (meteor showers) that appear this time of year -- and because I was fortunate enough to be driving (the autohelm got cranky in the very lumpy sea) and was peering over the dodger (getting misted with cold spray on occasion) I saw one spectacular long streaking star that lit up the sky. Funny how one special star can make all that looking worthwhile.

 

A brief recap: we arrived early and got in naps, lunch, and a sunny walk to and along the Pier; later we joined up with the Flippin Friday gals for cocktail hour on the Jr Sailing dock (they abandoned their small boat races due to the gusty conditions) and then hit Brophys (my favorite) for dinner. And a drink or two.

 

Now it's Saturday morning - the coffee is vociferously perking on the stove, and we're very busy getting ready to head to Santa Cruz. A small craft warning is forecast for the SB Channel this afternoon so we are postponing San Miguel til Monday, when we expect much flatter seas. So we're looking at Santa Cruz Sat - Sun, sometime Monday head to San Miguel and then get back on track for our loop to Santa Rosa, SC again (perhaps), Anacapa, Santa Barbara (island), and Two Harbors, Catalina (Friday night).

 

All are well, looking forward to the islands!

San Miguel, at last!

Monday Aug. 16

 

I am writing this from Cuyler Harbor, San Miguel Island - where approaching 9PM, we are counting down to the NOAA forecasted dip in wind velocity, which would be welcome, as we tug on our two bow anchors, in the dense black foggy night, where the wind is gusting in the low 30s. I've got on thermals and fuzzy socks and would be wearing my fuzzy hat too, except it got wet on the dinghy ride from shore.

 

We (Holly, Jani, Kathleen aka Madame K, Jenene and I) are celebrating our successful voyage (thus far) to San Miguel - where Holly, who has been sailing since before she could walk, has been efforting (more than a dozen times) to visit, and has been turned back time and again by foul weather. We are singing along to old tunes, playing the spoons, dancing, checking the wind.

Never mind. We have defied every NOAA forecast since we left, inching towards San Miguel despite small craft advisories, peeking out of our anchorages in the early morning hours, to satisfy Holly's lifelong quest. San Miguel!

 

Here's the brief synopsis of our trip so far (since leaving Santa Barbara) .... as Holly throws a grape on they keyboard and Jani remarks: "29 - see it's dropping" and then, they begin dancing to some old Sonny & Cher song.

 

Saturday we left for Santa Cruz - having decided that San MIguel would be suicidal and our guests might mutiny. We had a gorgeous, quick sail to Fry's Harbor (during which time I napped: .. one thing I LOVE about sailing is that you get to nap, and in fact it's your JOB to nap. sweet!) Fry's is a perfect little cove: protected on either side by tall pocked cliffs, with a small gravelly beach ashore.

 

But it's honking outside the next morning, so we pull up our anchors and leave early, for a surly ride west along the top of the island and across the channel to Santa Rosa Island. The wind (as expected) kept increasing, but the angle made it tolerable, as we continued westbound to Becher's Bay. It appeared just as I remembered it: heinous. A wind-streaked, kelp-strewn expanse of frothy water, beneath dull brown hills.

 

We anchor in the frigid breeze (on the third try - hacking away wads of kelp each time we re-attempt) have some soup. "Is it pretty much like this all the time?" Holly whispers and I reply "No it's windier at night.". We figure it's time to get the hell outta dodge. We venture out again into the channel - huge breakers rolling along the point - turn the corner, and ahhhhhh: calm, warm(ish) bliss.

 

Skirting the bottom of west Santa Rosa toward the midpoint, we find Johnson's Lee ... snake our way through a thick carpet of kelp to the right depth, and drop anchor. Holly, Madame K and Jani jump in the dinghy for a quick excursion ashore, but after fighting their way through the breeze and kelp, are send scurrying back by a giant elephant seal protecting his harem. "I have never SEEN a head that big" Jani sputters and Holly retorts "Hence the name ELEPHANT seal ... "

 

We have a peaceful night in the lee of this island. Elephant seals call all night, seagulls cry, and unseen fish leap - slappling on the slick surface of the water. The air smells like wet straw, and the sky above is clear.

 

Monday

It's 6:15 and Holly is stirring. I know what this means. If (like a groundhog) she pops her head out and sees the right condition, we are off for San Miguel. Forecasts all weekend have been unfavorable but getting underway early has saved us from the worst of it.

 

First though, we have to give the boat 'a Brazilian'. She has swung in the night into a kelp bed and we need to whack a mountain of foliage from under her belly. Then we're off - pleasant enough at first, until we round South Point and enter the channel between Santa Rosa and San Miguel. The fog thickens, the wind builds, and the waves resemble a washing machine as the points of the islands stretch to meet in the channel. We liken it to squeezing through the sphincter of the islands. It is cold and wet ... but just a few hours and brief enough. By noon we are rounding the rocky isle at the entry to Cuyler Harbor. In the time it takes to do a donut and drop the main, the fog clears just enough for us to make out the rocks, and we slowly motor to the anchorage.

 

There's a lot more to tell - our excursion ashore, bypassing a slew of elephant seals including massive juveniles who broke from their game of slapping their huge floppy probiscus at each other - to gape at us; a proliferation of wildflowers; strolling the sand dunes that stretch up 100s of feet, and the incredible array of textures of the rocks, but after a long day and a filling dinner of lasagna and wine, it is time to go to sleep and prepare for tomorrow ...

 

Everyone is well. Love to all ~ Betsy

 

PS - Yay Buggy, back to school! Congratulations, I am proud of you and hope you had a GREAT first day.

 

PPS - I left my phone at home: not that I have service anyway ... whoops!

Off to see the wizard ...

‘Are your breasts real?’ the technologist* asked, scanning my questionnaire and not even looking at my chest. ‘All mine,’ I replied and thus began my latest foray into the wonderful world of medicine. Peculiar question, but apparently they need to know your density (and size) for scanning purposes … unless perhaps this was an oddly veiled pickup line. (*A technologist works WITH machines; a technician works ON machines. I just had to ask the difference, you know.)

Then, having been refused caffeine for 24 hours (gasp!) and all food and water since dawn, and driving three and a half hours to Santa Barbara, I was placed in a room to ‘relax’ for 45 minutes -- which was not all that easy because I was cold, thirsty, hungry, and had only one ancient New Yorker magazine to read (and although their jokes are funny, their articles can be really long and boring!) .

After relaxing, I then got an injection of radioactive goop (for the 90-millionth time in two weeks. I bet my pee glows) and laid in a really comfy recliner while this massive v-shaped camera hovered over my chest and hummed, sending 3D pictures of my heart 'at rest' to a friendly Tech who showed me some of his best fishing trophy pictures and talked about catching bugs (aka Pacific lobsters).

Next was the treadmill part of the test, so they wired me up allover my chest and tummy. Now, I’d worn clean gym clothes, lugged my sneakers, socks and a headband, and was all ready for a workout, but they decided that, due to the aforementioned problem in my noggin, they would chemically induce my exertion instead of having me bust loose on the treadmill. Prudent, but disappointing!

As if to show off, I started walking at the prescribed deathmarch pace and chided, ‘When do you pick it up?’ as Jon the Tech leaned in to administer another radioactive dye, and shoot me up with the exertion drug. I continued to chat briefly as the two Techs watched and suddenly, WHOMP! I felt as if someone had thrown a 100-lb sack of goat feed at me. 'We're in!' Jon called out to the recording techs ... meanwhile, I could hardly breathe, my heart was pounding, and that virtual bag of feed was getting heavier by the minute. They continued to collect my data and suddenly I was done …but still feeling as if an elephant was standing on my (very real) chest.

The Doctor came in, a blur of aftershave and Italian Vogue, and I blurted out ‘nice shoes’. They were exceptionally pointy and shiny, and possibly the only shoes of their kind in all of Santa Barbara County. He shook my hand and acknowledged me as ‘Miss Crowfoot of the funky EKG’ and whizzed out with a promise to call me tonight if he saw anything catastrophic. (He has not rung.)

In between all these processes there are lengthy wait periods, as cardiology is a very brisk business! Finally they brought me back to the reclining chair, where my heart ‘under stress’ got filmed, while Jon showed me a big wahoo he’d landed in Cabo, and a world-record halibut that had just been caught in Alaska.

I feel like a character from the Wizard of Oz; with people checking my brain, my heart, and testing my courage … but I’m really thankful for the amazing capabilities of modern medical science, and how lucky we are to live in a time and place where people can shoot you up til you glow in the dark and then take 3D movies of your heart … and for the kindness and compassion of all the nurses and techs and receptionists who tread so lightly on wobbly people like me.

Mostly, I still feel like I’m carrying a sack of feed around, and am exhausted ! So, apologies for this somewhat boring meaningless blog – it is more of an update than anything and, thankfully, proof that I’m home, doing alright, and not in that big white building with the lovely nurses, tonight ….

THURS AUG 12 -
... and ... just got the call from the Dr., scan was fine, 'got the green light to go sailing today! :-D
thanks for all the prayers and kind words!

Keeping the faith

I sketched a self portrait today, based on a photo of me sitting on a motorcycle. The windshield has become a bejeweled armor of silver and gold in my left hand; instead of the throttle, I’ve got a sword in my right. I’m poised with a foot on one rock, with my massive wings (that make me fly really fast) towering over my head. My head radiates a beam of divine light. I am wearing a white robe, pink sunglasses, and smiling. I am a superhero for God.

I did this after church today: where I felt once more as if the spotlight was aimed at my head and the minister was speaking directly to me … Pastor Doyle talked about ‘Living a Heroic Life’. This is the word I was grasping for last night as I penned my journal. HEROIC. Not as in superheroes with fluttering capes and bizarre powers, but heroes who plug away, every day, and keep moving forward, in spite of ( insert obstacle here ). I want to live a heroic life that inspires, teaches or uplifts. I’m sure all these challenges are not for naught. There must be something redeeming in all this insanity!

He talked of rejecting resignation in the face of challenge; and maintaining a readiness, and the resilience, to go on. He pointed to the life of Joseph -- who was sold into slavery by his own brothers. Even so, Joseph kept the faith and kept doing the right thing; because he believed there was a bigger plan. And there was. (Joseph was eventually released by the Pharaoh, became a bigwig, and his vision and actions kept the people of Egypt - and his own family - alive during a seven year famine.)

It is so easy to resign yourself to fate, to lose sight of the path in the everyday muddle of difficulties. How many times have I had to ‘recover’? How many times have I had to ‘start over again’? But I am not a quitter: I feel there IS a bigger plan. Maybe I don’t know what it is, but I have definitely learned over the years to bank on God. And I certainly don't need any more 'reminders' to get my attention: I'm all ears Lord.

The one thing I’m not is miserable. I am so full of joy, despite these hiccups. (If there were a ‘World’s Best Hospital Patient’ reality show, I would be the winner. Seriously.) Okay, so I have a few mopey moments and instances of sheer panic and terror, but they are fleeting. (What’s the point?) My resilience has become formidable over the past years (although bravery is still something I'm working on ...) -- thanks to a whirlwind of travels, experiences, health issues, and near misses I could never have envisioned -- not of my own ability, but God’s – that’s for sure. And now I am poised to face whatever’s next. I’ve got my shield and sword at the ready: I am ready to kick some a**

ILLUSTRATON: okay this is a truly dodgy photo because my camera is cr*p, but you get the gist. YES my bejeweled shield has a headlight. Awesome isn't it?!

The healing effects of nature

I lean back, eyes closed, the warmth of the sun penetrating even as fresh ocean zephyrs tickle my skin. The knock-knock-knock of a woodpecker punctuates the rustle of leaves; I hear the surround-sound of a hummingbird buzz from left to right and the insistent ‘caw’ of peacocks lumbering through the brush. The pounding of my headache lessens; my fluttering heart calms its’ worrying rhythm. For the first time in days my body begins to feel at peace.

I go for a walk. Derrick the dog leads– although lazily, in the midday sun - while Sally the cat follows several yards behind, squeaking out her meows as if to complain, ‘Wait for me!’

The road is hedged thick with greenery adorned with pale violet blooms and pumpkin-colored bougainvillea. Mustard carpets the hillsides and blends with the monochromatic chaparral. The braying of donkeys is carried in the cool breeze. At my feet, corpulent succulents bear tiny fuchsia flowers and hum with bees. All around are signs of life!

“The Lord is my shepherd … he makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters …” Interesting how in Psalm 23 David evokes a pastoral scene of nature, calming his fears. Not the 101/405 freeway interchange, or a skyscraper in Manhattan, but the cool verdant splendor of earth. And today, in this setting, with the panoramic backdrop of the bluest sea, I feel as if I can walk forever.

God built this world to us, and for us, Genesis tells: gathering the dry land from the seas; bringing forth grass and fruit trees, “and God saw that it was good.” It is both the food that nourishes us and the medicine for what ails us. I bask in this comfort.

“The LORD will guide you continually, and satisfy your soul in drought, and strengthen your bones; You shall be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.” (Isaiah 58:11)