Thursday, October 1, 2015

Day 29 of the 2nd Voyage: In which the “Transmission Tour of California 2015” gets held over in Santa Cruz.


Half Moon Bay to Santa Cruz: With Edgrrr locked up in the aft cabin, we threw off the dock lines and pulled out of our slip at the Pillar Point Harbor Marina. At 15 minutes out, we passed the spot where we had pooped out the week before; another five minutes and we passed the buoys where the whales liked to play; five minutes after that and with the open sea ahead of us, we eased her up to cruising speed. So far so good. A bit of bounce as we made our way offshore but once we got about five miles out and turned south, the sea smoothed out considerably. We settled in for a seven-hour journey to Santa Cruz, hopeful that our transmission woes were finally behind us. It was a nice thought.

I’d like to preface this by saying the engine sounded great. It seemed to be running well; it had ample output; and we were making really good time. Then I’d like to pose a philosophical question…would there have been a problem had we not looked at the gauge?

The gauge in question is the one that measures PSI (pounds per square inch) on the transmission. When the gears are engaged, proper PSI is 120. However, about two hours into the journey, the PSI was registering 60. Upon seeing the low PSI, the Captain went down to check the transmission and saw that the breather was spitting fluid—an indication that the seal was about to blow—again—and we’d lose all pressure. In layman’s terms: no pressure means no gears. In other words, we were about to have another Half Moon Bay experience.

So here we are--two hours outside of Half Moon Bay, five hours to Santa Cruz. We could raise the sails, but the wind is right on our nose and a lee shore means we’d have to tack farther out to sea to avoid being pushed towards the rocks. Add to this the realization that not only will we have no gears once we disengage the engine but it’s very possible that we won’t get the engine back on once we reach the harbor. With this in mind, a call was made to Vessel Assist in Santa Cruz and about an hour and a half later Captain Monte caught up with us just south of Point Pidgeon. Once the tow line was set, we shut off the engine and sat back for the three hour ride. And it was a nice ride—like sailing without the sails—and with the frequent visits of large pods of porpoise and the amazing scenery of the California coast, it was really very pleasant. It got me to thinking that if we couldn’t travel with our own mechanic, maybe we should travel with our own tow boat.

Now if there’s a positive aspect to getting towed into a marina, it’s that they will always make room for you and it’s generally a pretty nice berth. Santa Cruz Harbor is built into a natural inlet so it’s long and narrow and protected by hills on three sides. Had we come in under normal circumstances, we probably would have found ourselves deep in the marina somewhere—in a nice berth no doubt, but no different than most. But given our circumstances, they placed us on a dock just inside the harbor entrance. During the summer months it’s reserved for the water taxis, but now we have it to ourselves--a side tie with an unobstructed view of the jetty lighthouse, front-row seats for all the boats coming in and out, an Italian café perched directly above us, and beach access just past the cannoli.

So this brings me back to our philosophical question. Would there have been a problem had we not looked at the gauge? First off, it’s a trick question. If you own a boat, there’s always a problem. But had we not looked at the gauge, it’s entirely possible that we would have made it to Santa Cruz just fine, but we would have lost our gear functionality as soon as we entered the marina and dropped down to docking speed. So what’s the difference? If you’re towed in they’re likely to put you in an unoccupied suite; if they have to manhandle you around the marina, you’re sharing the room above the garage with the sea lions.

So now what? Well, most likely we’re here for a week to ten days (that seems to be the norm), so we’ll rent a car, see the sights, hit the beach, mingle with the locals, and watch the sun set over the Pacific every night. It’ll be okay. Philosophically speaking, it won’t suck.
 
Pictured: Santa Cruz sunset from the deck of Raven
Not Pictured: Transmission (because why spoil a good thing?)
 

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