Sleepless in Cat Harbor

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The journey is over. All is well. I almost slept.

After 2 nights at anchor on Catalina Island, I’ve got a lot of images that make me look method cooler than I remain in real life.

The sail over to the island was a breeze. On a clear, So-Cal early morning, my buddy Thaddeus and I motored out Santa Monica Bay, close transported throughout the San Pedro Channel, then boomeranged around the back of Catalina Island. At sundown we slipped into Cat Harbor, discovered a relaxing area in 10 feet of water, and dropped the hook.

After 18 months with my Cape Dory 25 Delilahand more than 180 days on the water, it was my very first time anchoring over night. Shockingly, it was primarily a success. That opening night, I closed my eyes, shut down my brain, and honest-to-god slept. However, on night 2, things got crazy—or, a minimum of I did.

Around midnight, after a couple hours of snoozing, I poked my go out of my sleep sack and almost shat myself. The 10 feet of water we’d begun the night in was simply 5 feet now. Over the next hour, I hemmed and hawed as the tide continued to fall, my creativity cut loose, and a little psychological health crisis took place, leaving me asking myself concerns like: Does the Coast Guard carry out saves in knee deep water? Will the helicopter lower the basket if the evacuee can just stroll to shore? Does my tow boat subscription consist of tele-therapy?

Relocate to much deeper water or sit tight? I disputed however couldn’t choose. Anyhow, by 3 a.m. I was a full-blown mess. I based on the deck in my underclothing, my white thighs aglow under the light of a moon, psychologically getting ready for a long list of emergency situation circumstances that would never ever occur.

“I’m thinking we’re fine,” Thaddeus ultimately said, after calmly weighing each of our alternatives aloud with me. “Sometimes, there are no good choices. Sometimes the best move is to hold tight, stay observant and do nothing. But, I really do think you should put a shirt on.”

He was right. We weren’t dragging anchor. Delilah hadn’t gone aground. Reality was, the scariest thing taking place was the moonlit shape of my softly round daddy body.

“Point taken,” I said. Thaddeus’ level-headedness was simply what I required, and I was grateful.

Back in Delilah’s cabin I place on a t-shirt, snapped an image of the depth sounder at 3.6 feet, then climbed up back in my sleeping bag. We never ever did go aground that night, and I didn’t sleep. Rather, I invested the remainder of the night lying awake, talking constantly about my sensations (like genuine captains do), questioning what I might discover and how I may do things in a different way next time we anchor over night. In the early morning, the sun increased, and the tide raised and brought my self-confidence up with it. After caffeinating, Thaddeus and I prepared Delilah and started the 41-mile sail home to Marina Del Rey.

“Sorry about last night,” I informed him. “I totally ruined a good night of sleep.”

“It’s alright. Honestly, I learned a lot about your personality,” he said.

Touché, brother. I found out something about me too.

You see, in current months I’d check out a good bit about ground deal with—about anchors, rope, chain and scope. However what I hadn’t thought about was the strong psychological video game required for over night anchoring. One thing’s for sure, I’m going to need more confidence next time I “sleep” at anchor.

My ocean cruiser friend, James Frederick, tells me that confidence comes with experience.

“Starting out, I used to keep an iPad in the v-berth with Navionics running and checked it like 20 times a night,” he told me. “But, the anxiety completely disappears after anchoring for a while in various situations and high winds. Nowadays, I sit anchor watch for the first hour after anchoring, and then I rarely even think about it after that, even in 45 knots last week.”

The other thing I’m going to need is a stronger psychological approach. Recently, Fatty Goodlander wrote about psychological crew management and how captains can keep a nervous crew calm by keeping them busy. “Get the mind off the blow. Focus on the everyday mundane, and the fearful what ifs lose their bite,” he wrote. “The difference between ordeal and adventure is attitude.”

So, yeah, I’ve got some work to do. With practice and a solid head-video game, I’ll gain experience, build skills, and grow the mindset necessary to anchor over night. Possibly I’ll sleep; Possibly I won’t. Just time will inform. However, the next time the tide falls and the moon increases, a minimum of I’ll have my t-shirt on.

David Blake Fischer is a “noob” sailor living in Southern California whose work has actually appeared in McSweeney’s, BuzzFeed, the Moth, and Good Old Boat. He hasn’t crossed oceans. In reality, he’s just just recently crossed the Santa Monica Bay. Follow him as he fumbles out the channel, backwinds his jib and in some cases drags his fenders on Delilahhis Cape Dory 25. Stalk him on Instagram.