CHANGES
TARDIGRADE
up. It felt like saying goodbye to someone and then realizing you're walking in the same direction. But then the mo-
The original plan was to join last year's Ha-Ha, but when they finally departed the Bay, Jeremy and Maddie hung a right and headed north.
ment arrived, and we barely had time to process it before we were pulling away from the dock that had become our neighborhood in Berkeley and beating into classic 30-knot Slot winds toward Sausalito. Passing under the Golden Gate had loomed in our minds for years as the real beginning of the voyage, and as the towering red span passed overhead with the roar of traffic and echoing waves, we tried to absorb that this was actually happening — we were living our dream. Our longtime housemate had biked out to wave us off from the bridge, a tiny speck shouting goodbyes into the howling wind. Unknown to us, he pedaled all the way to Point Bonita lighthouse for one final glimpse as we rounded the point and committed to the open ocean, the last witness of one chapter and the first of the next. The first stretch tested us immediately with brutal headwinds approaching Point Reyes, but once we cleared the point, that same wind filled our closehauled sails and carried us north. As evening fell, we settled into our watch — three hours on, three hours off — keeping vigilant for other boats and crab pots. Everything went smoothly until the autopilot started slipping as the seas got rough, forcing Maddie to hand-steer while shouting Jeremy Page 80 • Latitude 38 • August, 2025
awake. He stumbled into the rear compartment to wrestle with the coupling, getting soaked and straining his arm in the process. It was our first real taste of a lesson our friend Jesse had shared: This discomfort and difficulty is actually the point: It's how you know you're on a boat. Dawn brought the approach to Fort Bragg, and despite Coast Guard confirmation that conditions were safe, watching waves explode against the rocky coastline on either side of the narrow entrance got our hearts racing as we approached our first-ever bar crossing. But Maddie threaded us through the channel under the highway 101 bridge, and suddenly we were gliding into the calm, green waters of the Noyo River. The sensory shift hit us immediately — after 24 hours of nothing but salt air, we were flooded with pine and eucalyptus scents, plus the warm smell of toast drifting from riverside restaurants. Harbor seals popped up to investigate as we passed, while chunky sea lions performed their breakfast rotations, barking and begging scraps from the fishing boats like oversized dogs. The next two weeks were forecast to be basically one continuous gale outside our safe little harbor, so we settled in to wait. Everyone warns that waiting for weather windows is a torturous part of cruising, but the 13 days we ended up spending in Fort Bragg felt like exactly the deceleration we needed after five years of San Francisco's relentless pace. We kayaked the Noyo's quiet backwaters, ate some incredible fish and chips, took a train through redwoods to a forest bar, and volunteered at the local food bank. The forced pause let us actually settle into this new rhythm of life. When our weather window finally opened, we were sad to leave Fort Bragg's magic behind, but excited to be back in open water making progress. The ocean rewarded us with hundreds of dolphins, churning up the water in a massive pod. We abandoned the helm to rush forward just as several peeled away to surf our bow wake, sending us into delighted laughter and misty-eyed gratitude at sharing such a magical moment together. Upon arriving in Crescent City, Jeremy went up the mast to fix a tangled halyard and spotted a surf break down
the coast from his high vantage point. We hadn't read about surfing in Crescent City in any of our cruising guides, so it was an unexpected surprise. We put aside our to-do list and rented a board to spend the afternoon catching waves under pine-covered cliffs. After our surf adventure we had to pay some taxes to the universe. While doing engine checks the next morning, Maddie discovered a pool of bright-red liquid in our bilge. After a stressed call with our mechanic, we realized it was