2013-5-13
Since I had an offer from my girlfriend, Yelcha, to transport my boat back home from the finish, I thought it was a perfect opportunity to make Memorial Day a memorable day with an epic row. I have rowed Moss Landing to Santa Cruz or vice versa several times in the last 7 years so I was familiar with what lay ahead.
The weather information on line seemed okay early this morning so I gave my self a green light. Swells were not high and their periods not short. Wind wasn't strong (yet) but it was forecast to grow to 25 knots of tailwind in the afternoon. Unfortunately, until then, it was a headwind. Oh well. There was 50% chance of rain in the forecast, too, but not until the afternoon.
I decided on using my Bay 21, "Splash", since it's my favorite right now. And it can hold all the gear for a long trip. [PFD, VHF, GPS, H2O, shoes, Speed Coach, Compass, Jacket and cell phone were all aboard.]
I shoved off the dock from under the Murray Street Bridge this morning at 7:56. It's a holiday but it was nevertheless a bit strange to see so little activity at the harbor. No other boats were moving in or out. Hmmm. Did they know something I didn't? Some strolling folks but no boaters. The GPS says 14.0 nautical miles to the entrance to Moss Landing harbor.
The tide was so low that the floating boat rack dock was on solid ground in one corner. That section of the dock is brand new and so I think maybe they didn't plan that too well. It's rare that the tide's this low (- 2 feet) so it's probably not going to cause much damage soon. Besides, the plan seems to be proceeding to make seismic retrofits to the Murray Street Bridge and they'll have to remove all of these docks in a year or so. I'll tell the harbor management.
On the way out past the jetties I saw a young man standing on the west jetty with a trumpet. Hmmm. Was he about to play "Taps" to commemorate fallen soldiers? That brought back memories of my High School days. I played Taps at the cemetery up on the hill or else the echo from down by the river. For now, no horn was blowing.
It was really gray skies and low clouds. A marine layer was hugging Santa Cruz and I couldn't see more than a couple miles. I think it was even drizzling a bit. Coming out of the harbor it was obvious that I wouldn't be navigating by sight to Moss Landing. "No problem" since I have my GPS and a compass, too. visibility is at least mile or more.
Since the course is a bee line all I have to do is get lined up and don't make any turns. Easier said than done!
After 2 miles I was losing my visibility to shore and therefore losing my backheading. The water had already built to 'rough'. I thought that it was bound to get better once I was away from shore and the reflections from the cliffs stopped adding to the mess. It didn't. I needed the bailer open from the chop sloshing in over the splashguard and over the sides. In a Bay 21 there's lots of freeboard so it's not often I have to open the bailer.
After 4 miles I stopped for a drink. The headwind and overcast helped keep me cool and reduced dehydration. But I knew I needed water often in spite of the favorable conditions.
So far it had been very difficult to hold a heading. The GPS pointer was always straying. The waves were constantly pushing me off course port or starboard. Mostly starboard. I was 'rowing in a gray box'. No shoreline or even cloud features visible in any direction. No sounds of shore, either. Like most every time I have done this I tried using the wind and the waves to orient myself without help from the compass. Fail! In 20 strokes I could easily be off course by nearly 45 degrees!
Okay: I'll use the compass. Good practice for whenever I am forced to use it because of a GPS failure. It didn't work very well to keep me on course, either. The rolling and pitching and, especially, yawing was pretty dramatic and so the compass, although well-damped, was wandering like drunk sailor. As long as the weather was so close I'd have to rely on the GPS.
It wasn't making me happy that the headwind was increasing. Or maybe there was a current in the same direction. Between the rough conditions and the headwind I was down to an average speed of 4.6 knots. Very disappointing.
Strange to see a sea otter this far from shore. It isn't very deep, though. I guess maybe about 200'. It seemed to be feeding so they must be really good divers. This run is not like the Monterey Bay crossing in which rowers pass over the Monterey Bay canyon: 3000' deep!
For the first 6.5 nautical miles I was tossed about 'like a Dixie Cup in a washing machine'. It was challenging to scull in these conditions. I had done so many times, but 14 miles of this was going to be difficult. My oars were skipping off the waves nearly every stroke on the recovery. Lots of splashing and the headwind was putting plenty of salty splashes all over my back and arms and, occasionally, my head. Harbor seals poked their heads up to peer at me, right in my track. They seemed to be asking "what's with all the splashing?"
Fortunately things smoothed out a bit. I closed my bailer. Still a lot of yawing as I was quartering down swell. But at least the pitching and rolling wasn't so bad.
The weather was lifting a bit, too.
My average speed climbed a notch to 4.7 knots. Things were improving.
No boats visible anywhere.
For some reason I had Tchaikovsky's "Marche Slave" running through my head. Appropriate, I thought.
At 7 miles to go I stopped for more water. I was halfway there if one didn't consider the headwind. I could see a darker gray to my right. That meant the shore was almost visible. Still couldn't hear it, though. I was in a good rhythm without straining. I could sustain this for the remaining miles. More harbor seals. Some crab trap buoys. Even less clouds: it might clear up!
Average speed increased and that was motivating. 4.8 knots. 4.9 knots.
Was that...yes! I could see the smokestacks of the power plant at Moss Landing. Just barely. That meant the weather was lifting. This part is deceiving because the smokestacks are so tall you think you're close. Hah!
I see some kelp -- it must be getting shallower. Another good sign. Oh, and there's the shore off to my right a few miles. Beach. Crashing surf was audible.
The headwind direction was rotating around clockwise to become a quartering wind and then a crosswind. The waves weren't big but the chop right on my beam made for snappy rolling. Ugh. Too bad. I thought it was going to be a nicer end. The chop built. 4 miles to go. 3. Now it's turning to whitecaps. 2 miles to go. I am getting slapped around a lot but now I can see, hear and taste the finish.
I have to stop and open the bailer. And quietly curse the wind and waves. Why couldn't they be perfect? Waves were coming in over the side and soaking my shorts. Water temperature is probably around 54 degrees. Chilly. I pulled harder. The sooner I was out of this, the better.
Ironically, the wind was starting to get towards a tailwind as I reached the green channel marker for the Moss Landing harbor entrance and I turned to head straight down the channel. As soon as I got past the jetty the water became a great deal nicer. Not far now and this was the only remaining question since sometimes the water in the channel between the jetties gets really nasty. Especially if the tide and wide are arguing. Not today.
Tourists, families, fishermen on the jetties. Sea lions. More sea lions. I can hear their lounging cousins barking. There's a sharp contrast of blue water from the incoming tide and brown water from the Elkhorn Slough drainage.
As I approached the boat launch I see that Yelcha put out the slings. Nice. It's 10:56. Exactly three hours.
Turned out to be 14.8 nautical miles with the short segment from the harbor entrance to the boat launch ramp (and all that poor tracking!). That's 17 statute miles. My GPS says 5.0 knots moving average. The Speed Coach says 4200 strokes, or about 23 strokes per minute (this matches what I expected -- I was trying stroke rates 21 to 25).
Maybe next time the water and weather will be perfect.
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