Living On The Hook
Underway Paradise Cove to Marina Del Rey.

Sea state: Calm. Visibility: 1/2 mile.
Overcast/Fog. Motoring 4 knots. Course 88 magnetic.

I just upped anchor after a week in Paradise Cove in Malibu. The place has really become my favorite anchorage. I've never had a hailing port on my transom. I think Paradise Cove would be a good one. Heck, I see people putting hailing ports for Nevada, ( Lake Mead, I guess) and Tempe, Arizona on their boats. I have even seen Golden, Colorado on a serious cruising boat floating in the Pacific. I wonder, had it once been
floating in a beer vat at the Coors Beer Brewery in Golden?

I don't worry about advertising Paradise Cove's beauty too much because most people who have visited it by boat usually experience it's wide variety of winds an get scared off by the night time East winds that blow your boat toward shore and kick up quite a swell.

The fetch of wind waves build up from the southern end of the Santa Monica Bay, from Palos Verdes Cove. When I was anchored there last week, the night wind blew me away from the cliff. During the day I was on a lee shore. It's just the opposite in Paradise Cove. The west/southwest to north/northwest winds blow you away from the cliff. But, at night the land breezes can gust down the canyons and build up quite a rough chop over the thirty miles across the bay, blowing from northeast to southeast.

The sun comes up over the water in Paradise Cove. Just like in Santa Barabara. Something the travel brochures for that town like to advertise. Point Dume juts out and curves enough for the cliffs to face east here on the west coast.
The sun sets on the cliffs in the evening.

I got a good easterly blow the third night I was here. I was on a single 11 kg Bruce anchor, 80 feet of chain and another 100 feet of nylon rode in about 27 feet of water. The boat bounced around a bit and the mast shook and wipped a bit in the gusts. It became enough of a disturbance that I turned off the Nova TV special on the formation of the earth, got dressed warmly and went out in the cockpit. In the glow of the anchor lantern and the full moon's light, I watched anxiously to see if this spectacle of howling wind would take me to shore.

During such blows I try to line up a part of the boat with lights on the shore to see if I might be dragging. Two hundred yards inshore of me was a dinghy on a mooring. I flashed my flashlight a number of times on it's white hull occupied by several Comorants and Pelicans. As long as the gap between us didn't close, I had nothing to worry about. It was nice to see the birds there with me in the darkness and wind.

I usually have the engine intake valves open, the battery set to ALL and the key in the ignition during blows. I also gather up anchor line on deck so that it can be quickly dropped overboard in a clump should I need to start the engine and slip my anchor. All three of my anchor rodes have a lobster bouy attached to the bitter end so that I can come back and pick them up later.

After about an hour of watching wind, waves, moon and stars and swinging from Northeast to East, the wind finally filled in, the gusts died and I knew I was hooked well. I went below and fell asleep to the sound of the swells lapping against the hull underneath me.

It's blowing 10 knots behind me now. I'm motoring with the headsail out, doing closer to 5 knots. Time for for a jacket, a tuna sandwich and a cup of coffee. Ciao.

Noel Diotte
coverunner@tmo.blackberry.net
310 376-7057

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Sent wirelessly from the sailboat, "Shearwater" off the Southern California coast.