We left the following morning for Catalina and had a lovely, warm motor-sail since the wind was in the 4 kt range and the seas were small for most of the trip.
As we approached the shipping lanes, visibility was only a few miles; we could see the west-bound ships, but the east bound ones could only be seen on AIS. Unfortunately, this was literally true as, after more than 20 years of operation, our radar went kaput. Oh well, it’s only another couple of boat bucks…
Saturday morning began with intentions to relax or exercise when the Destiny discovered that the diesel would not start.
Beginning of the third day, storm clouds began to form. We could see on our radar that we were heading straight into them and they stretched beyond the horizon. We radioed s.v. Georgia and consulted on the best plan of action. As there was no anchorage for shelter nearby, we agreed to forge ahead.
Thirty pounds of fish thrashing and bleeding under the helmsman while I attempt to quickly kill the catch…
Honestly, if I’d understood the nature of the brain-tickling test for Covid-19, I might have hesitated before agreeing to having it done. But the four of us had agreed that as incipient Tranquilo crew, where we would live in close quarters for about two weeks, we should do what we could to protect each other’s health. That doesn’t mean we didn’t bring a lot of potato chips.
Turned out we had only two boats able to make the trip to Catalina this year: Rich and Peggy Ciolino on S/V Ecco Bella and Diana O’Connell and Bruce Wagner on S/V Boat II.
It was the end of July, overcast with winds out of the west at 12 to 14 knots and one to two-foot swells, headed to Little Scorpion on the S/V Maude, a 37-foot Swan.
Leaving 8am on Friday with glassy seas and overcast skies allowed a quick four-hour motor across the channel