Wild Times in Smuggler's Cove

In Ventura we met up with our friends, made a few new friends, ate a hamburger and picked up a few more groceries before heading out the next morning, again bound for Santa Cruz Island. This time we headed for an anchorage on the easternmost side of this island called Smuggler’s Cove. We had nice weather for the crossing: sunny with a light wind building to a good 25 knot breeze north of Anacapa Island. Shortly thereafter, the wind died completely and we ended up having to fire up the engine and motor the last few miles into the cove.

We dropped the anchor before the sun went down and found ourselves in a large open bight, just off a long sandy beach framed by steep, rocky shorelines to the north and south. The beach seemed to be the end of a valley which quickly ascended into golden grassy hillsides. We had noticed earlier that our chart indicated an olive orchard on the hills above the beach and we were delighted to see the enormous block of dusty green as we surveyed the land. We launched the dinghy and had a few sunset moments for an initial walk-about on shore before darkness fell.

 Here we encountered a problem that we had encountered in other anchorages in that the seemingly small swell entering the exposed harbor made for sizeable waves on the beach. The dinghy landings we made were all quite exciting and we even had one capsize in the surf. Sometimes this sort of thing can be fun but it wears on the crew to have to make daring landings in order to get the shore and relax for a moment. 

Some of the crew spent the following day exploring the shore near the cove: the olive orchard, the Wyoming-like valleys and hills, and the old homestead just inland from the beach. It is a shame that we won’t be here again later in the summer as we found numerous fig trees, walnut trees, and a white sapote tree in addition to the large olive orchard. Definitely a spot to remember for future harvesting!

While Vincent, Crystal, Lowell, and Jocelyn spent the day walking around, Alden and I took the boat about five miles to a surf break on the south side of the island. Located just below “the golfball (a large, spherical, white antennae or observatory of some sort),” the point break was a great fun, even on very small day. We surfed with some folks who were also anchored just east of the break and they regaled us with stories of hanging out and surfing in the same spot in their youth.  We caught a handful of waves, mostly waist-high, but with the occasional shoulder to head –high set before catching a few fish and heading back to Smuggler’s Cove in the late afternoon.

That evening was seemingly peaceful: Alden and I re-anchored and the others came back out to the boat while I was dropped off ashore to gather a few milk thistle seeds and do a bit more exploration before the end of the day. I got a bag full of seed, valued for their liver-supporting medicinal qualities, and was walking around the old homestead when the wind started to build. Crystal called me on the VHF handheld and said that I should think about heading back as the offshore breeze on the boat was strengthening. By the time I got to the beach, the wind had built to such a speed that Lowell was unable to make any progress towards the shore in the dinghy to pick me up. Although I was fairly confident that I could swim the distance in the cold water, I decided that there was no rush and that I needn’t risk it. As darkness fell, I gathered dead grass from a hillside and built a mound next to a large bush, into which I burrowed and tried to fall asleep. I had come to shore only wearing short and a t-shirt and although I was awakened by the cold a few times and had to gather a bit more grass, I eventually fell asleep and stayed warm enough despite the cold night and strong wind.

Meanwhile on the boat, the others were concerned that we did not have enough anchor rode out and were busy trying to let out more scope. In order to do so, they had to ease the chain on the springline and attempted to do so by driving into the wind with the engine but the slack in the rode allowed the wind to blow the bow down, tightening the chain and sending the boat zagging back and forth on the anchor. At one such time, the chain popped out of the bow roller and came down on the toe rail and Alden’s hand. Shocked at first, all were relieved to find that the injury was minor. The springline was then cut at the windlass and more chained paid out, finished with a new and longer springline.

After a long night of continuing strong breeze (estimates ranging between 45 and 70 knots), the wind abated with the rising sun. Alden came and picked me up from shore and we were off. The events of the previous night left the crew feeling a bit shell-shocked and lucky to have escaped without injury or damage. Discussion was had as to what should have been done in the situation, whether the strain on the ground tackle warranted attempting maneuvers when the offshore wind posed no great danger to the boat itself, and among other thoughts we resolved to affix a line or chain to prevent the chain from jumping out of the bow roller.

We had an uneventful sail past Anacapa Island towards LA. The wind slacked off throughout the morning until it finally died about 25 miles short of Marina del Rey. Because we had arranged to be guests in LA, we fired up the engine and motored the rest of the way, arriving at the breakwater just as darkness fell.  

For more pictures visit our Picasa site at:
https://picasaweb.google.com/103461058936929561161/SmugglerSCoveAndLA