Even though Point Conception, the so-called "Cape Horn of the Southern California" still lies ahead of us, we believe the worst part of our trip down the coast is over, now that Cape Blanco and Cape Mendocino are behind us.

We motored out of the long channel leading from Humboldt Bay at Eureka, CA around noon on Monday, September 11th and ran into a fog bank so thick that we saw no landmarks nor buoys for the next 20 hours. We had visited the Eureka NOAA weather station and were generously given a tour of that facility, a primer lecture on Pacific Coast weather, and a detailed forecast. How impressive it was to see the computer graphics resulting from all the forecasting models they use to do their work. The wind was very light and on the nose as we motored south. The seas were lumpy from strong winds on the previous days, we both got nauseous. Midafternoon the NW wind picked up, we rolled out the roller furling jib and motorsailed at 7 knots for several hours. Oh, was it was cold and wet! As darkness fell, Neil layered up with a tee shirt, sweat shirt, fleece jacket, and a float coat inside his Helly Hansen foul weather jacket. Then the fun began.

Somehow, on that cold, wet, and very foggy night, Active Light became a boat magnet, attracting every vessel on the North Pacific coast to her. We hardly looked out of the cockpit at the water ahead of us. It wouldn't have done any good, you couldn't see anything. We took turns staring at the radar screen and hailing vessels on the VHF radio that got too close. Our once "radio-shy" Nancy now exhibits no hesitancy in hailing fishing boat and tugboat skippers to ask their course, speed and intentions, requesting sea room. It is odd that she always gets a better reply from them than Neil does. It must be something about the pleasantness of hearing a calm woman's voice coming unexpectedly in the middle of a cold, wet, foggy night offshore that elicits a more civil response from these skippers. Or perhaps it has something to do with all those years of handling first grade reading students. Some were most accommodating, like the captain of the northbound tug with a tow, "Tucker", who came back immediately with position, course and speed, "Thank you and good luck.". Then there were the two vessels, a couple of miles off our port beam, who stayed there all night, paralleling our course too closely and never once responded to our inquiries in the fog. We learned next morning they were sailboats on their way to San Francisco, rather wide-eyed and marvelling about it all. There are also the skippers who get on the VHF about every five minutes if they see a seagull pass in front of them. Cautious is okay, but there has to be a balance here. About 2130 the old (undersized) Autohelm electronic steering died on us, so we had to begin hand steering. The wind picked up enough around midnight so we were able to kill the engine and sail at 7 knots using the Monitor windvane to steer. That was great, but it sure kept one's attention sailing at that speed into a gray wall of fog!

Around 0300 the wind died and we were motoring and handsteering again. Then, as the eastern skies lightened with dawn, we entered the tiny basin of the Noyo River entrance to Fort Bragg and the fog began to lift. We could see the rocks and cliffs and kelp beds close by on both sides and carefully made our way into the most remarkable harbor yet. We were reminded of Robert Altman's film "Popeye" which opens with Popeye rowing through the dark and stormy night to have the sun and music break out as he arrives at the beautiful little seaside village of "Sweet Haven". Fort Bragg is like that! The fish vendors, cafes, stores and houses were perched upon stilts on both sides of the steep banks while we slowly motored, enjoying it all, up the narrow Noyo River. Several fisherman even hailed us to say "Hello", and they waved first!

We took moorage at the Noyo River Marina. It was a great overnight stay. We met Doug Nardby, the sailor who towed in Charles Bontragger's boat "Encore" after his prop fell off. We took a long shower where you had to get hot water by connecting live, dangling 110 VAC wires together with an alligator clip. And the sea lions, . . . one whole barge was dedicated to the noisiest group of sea lions you ever heard.

We left Fort Bragg Wednesday around 1600 after one night of rest to make another 90 nm night passage that was pleasant to the extreme. It began with threatening thunderstorm clouds to the NW, but these broke up into thin cirrus clouds as the evening wore on. We got to sail a bit in 10 - 15 knots of NW wind. But this lightened and shifted around behind us to N, then NE as the night wore on. The decks were completely dry, no dew, fog nor mist at all. We encountered one (1) northbound vessel all night long, . . . a huge cruise ship which Nancy dubbed the "LOVE boat" over VHF channel 68 to a query from our traveling companions on the "Anna B". We had great visibility and a full moon. It was beautiful!

We arrived with the dawn at Bodega Bay and motored up a long, narrow dredged channel to a California State Parks Marina at Spud Point. Very modern, good showers, $12 per night and we had a good rest. Our little traveling flotilla of three boats is breaking up now due to different itineraries and needs in the San Francisco Bay area. We have enjoyed their company and the feeling of comfort in traveling together and sharing the experiences. We are certain we will connect with them later on down the coast.

We left Bodega Bay and our friends around 10:30 Friday morning, September 15th, . . . and we neatly ran aground in the fog while trying to get out of the narrow dredged channel leading from the marina. We were paying attention, Nancy was below calling out sightings on the radar. We were doing really well in spite of the 1/8th nm mile visibility, until we came to the right turn in the channel by the Coast Guard station. Neil mistook a string of markers leading to whatever up onto the mud flats and "hump" ,"bump", . . . we were stuck in the muddy sand. We tried to power off in reverse but couldn't. We quickly deployed the new Fortress stern anchor. After the third try, it dug in and Nancy pulled us off backwards with a line through the stern hawse hole led to the port primary sheet winch. What a way to begin a day!

We crept out into the open Pacific in the fog and it started to clear a bit. There was wind, so we began by deploying the roller furling jib, which we can do in about one minute. Soon the wind picked up to about 15 knots NW and we (with effort) put up the main. We engaged the Monitor self-steering wind vane and soon were clipping along at about 6.5 knots saying, "Look, Ma, no hands!".

We had a little trouble sleeping and getting the anchor up the next morning, as the wind was blowing 15 to 20 knots all night. We were up at 0430, underway by 0510, motorsailing in the fog toward San Francisco Bay. The fog lifted enough around 0830 so we could see our way and we made good time. We wanted to arrive at the bridge in the morning before the typical SF Bay winds started to howl and to coincide with the flooding tide. As we approached the Golden Gate Bridge, Neil had the brilliant idea that he would call Nancy's mother, Betty, on the cellular phone and sing "I Left My Heart in San Francisco" to her as we went under the bridge. The problem was the fog did not cooperate and all we ever saw of the famous bridge were the support pilings. Betty had a good laugh over that!

We motored past Alcatraz and Angel Island, trying to hail a marina on the VHF. Turns out this was Boat Show weekend and most marinas were full, even at 1000 on a Saturday morning, but we finally found room at the Berkeley Marina. Interestingly, the water in front of Berkeley is only 6 to 9 feet deep. This is where the famous Olympic sailing circle race course is.

We will be at the Berkeley Marina until September 30th. We need to have our Monitor windvane rebuilt by the people at Scanmar Marine, and that will take two weeks. We will design and install a better mainsail boom vang and gybe preventer and effect many other repairs, installations and upgrades as well. And we need to get some weight out of Active Light's bow. We are a little worried about getting down the coast to San Diego to meet up with the Baja Ha Ha before October 30th, . . . at the same time, we do not want to hurry and miss sights and ports along the way.

One note of tension in this whole endeavor is this: according to Lin and Larry Pardey, statistics show that only about 10 to 20% of the people who embark on a declared extended voyage (five years or more) ever complete it. How do you think we will do?