Well, almost. Sampaguita sits in the Newport Beach, CA anchorage, about as close as she can get by water. She was built by Pacific Seacraft of Fullerton, CA in 1985.

Sampaguita had an excellent sail from Santa Catalina Island to arrive in Newport Beach with the rising sun(and dense fog.) We had a fairly steady SE breeze of 5-10 knots crossing the San Pedro Channel which kept us moving on a starboard tack all night long. Between being in the lee of Catalina Island and an offshore breeze, the seas were quite moderate and the light wind propelled Sampaguita at 3-4 knots with very little sail slapping. The aura of Los Angeles glowed in the eastern sky and gave us pre-dawn lighting the entire time.

Since Sampaguita does not have a chart plotter, we used constellations, first Cassiopeia, then The Seven Sisters, to stay on course. For her captain, this is far more preferable than a constant high-tech glow of modern navigation equipment. This sounds romantic, and I suppose it is, but we are not complete Luddites. My handheld GPS unit, compass, and phone with Navionics are available and checked for reference. How do you think I knew which stars to choose?

We were kept company by the offshore oil platforms, Edith, Elly Ellen, and Eureka, and the local fishing fleet. That, and the VHF radio. I’ve noticed in southern California an increase in accents on the VHF. While English(mostly) is being used, it seems clearly a second language for some. It takes close listening to understand. As an aside, I’ve also noticed on my AM/FM Radio, there are many stations operating exclusively in languages other than English. I’m not sure if this was all less common in the Pacific Northwest, or I was just not paying attention. Likely both. I’m enjoying it.

Arrival in Newport Beach was otherworldly. With the fog and dark, the visual slate was completely blank. My familiar world of Sampaguita was all there was. Only as the fog lifted and the light prevailed was that slate filled and the visual went from zero to a million. The presentation of this place, which is unlike anything I’ve known, or only have seen on television, is surreal. I’m not yet prepared to describe it.

We are happy to be here and happy our arrival was on schedule, which, if you’ve been reading, has been challenging for a slow boat.

Observation: A few weeks ago, when I first entered Californian waters, the pelicans started to appear, en masse. They are like pigeons in New York or Eagles in Alaska.

Pelicans aren’t small. One clear and beautiful night off the Northern California Coast I was sitting in the supervisors chair in awe of the stars when a green blur appeared in the sky. This startled me before I realized it was a pelican illuminated by the bright green starboard side of my LED tri-color navigation light atop Sampaguita’s mast. I watched the bird circle around and head back our way. As it approached, I thought, “Geez, I hope that pelican flies over top of the mast!” It did not. It flew straight into the mast and rigging! It hit near the top and then dropped like a stone to the deck, landing two feet away from me. I’m sure I flinched, and should have ducked below, but the disbelief and brevity of the moment was too much. The pelican then rolled overboard.

It hit the rig just below the top, so luckily it did not damage anything, in particular, the light and the VHF antenna. I cannot say the same for the pelican. Oddly, it never said a peep. I suspect the brightness of the LED had something to do with the incident. Kind of like with cars and bicycles. They are good for the user, bad for anyone approaching.