Lyn's Log, 17th December 2008
San Diego, part 1

Chula Vista, California
N32º36', W117º12'
19,968 miles.

The place to arrive in San Diego is the small visitor's marina run by the marine police. We met up with some of our friends, who planned to leave for Mexico as soon as they had arranged their exit papers, and we were going to follow when we had laid in supplies for a Pacific crossing next year. Our plan was to haul out Sentinel ashore somewhere, clean and paint her sadly neglected bottom last done in Trinidad, and go home for Christmas. However, at this point we discovered that it would cost us twice as much to fly to England from Mexico than from San Diego, so we decided we would stop here, even though the marinas would cost a lot more per month than what we had been charged last winter in Sidney. Storing a boat ashore is impossibly expensive in San Diego, and in any case no yards were willing to let us work on the boat ourselves, they insist the yard does it at high cost.

Although it is cheap, the marine police allow only 10 days in the visitor's marina and, in a measure to get rid of vagrants and derelict boats, only three days in any of the few very small anchorages. We spent much of the first ten days renewing the head gasket on the engine, which had been smoking badly. During this time there seemed much of interest going on around us. One day the police brought in a small motorboat. Two guys were handcuffed and marched away, then the boat was ripped apart by the police and three cartloads of packages, presumably of drugs, were dug out of compartments aboard (pic above). Of course, San Diego is just 10 miles from the Mexican border. Another day a yacht sailed in from China. It was a replica of a C15th Chinese Junk, the Princess Tai-Ping, which naturally caused considerable interest, specially to customs officials.

There were also a number of the displaced vagrants who had come into the visitor's marina presumably because it was cheap, and we were treated to a rare assortment of eccentric characters living on the most woebegone craft, invariably without engines. They were towed in by equally decrepit boats, and then out again when their 10 days were up. The yacht next to us was piled high with old ropes and ancient, broken gear, and the woman living on it spent all day yelling abuse at a man who was apparently trying to persuade her to move ashore. Her pets were forever scratching, the cat kept running away, the boat stunk of stale cat litter, and we were very glad when she left. When our time was up we got permission to anchor in one of the small anchorages near the town of Coronado, which would have been pleasant except the only space was immediately behind that same shouting woman! While there we took the opportunity to grind off all the rusty spots on deck in preparation for painting, this not being permitted in a marina.

Our next destination proved something of a lucky mistake. I phoned a nearby yacht club to ask if they would allow us to stay in their marina free for a couple of nights. They sounded pleased to do so, but it was only when I put the phone down that I realised I had called the wrong club! I had booked with a small yacht club some distance away in the town of Chula Vista, as far south in San Diego Bay as is navigable and very close to the Mexican border.

We decided to try it anyway, and were very glad we had. The people in the yacht club proved most welcoming. When we mentioned we were looking for somewhere for a couple months, they suggested that we speak to the California Yacht Marina, from whom the club leased their visitor's berth, and we discovered it would cost only two-thirds of the price of the cheapest San Diego marina. This sealed our decision, so we have booked our flights from San Diego from mid December to mid February and decided we will haul out later once we reach Mexico, where even if we have to let the yard do the antifouling, we can do the rest of the work without paying the earth for the time spent on land.

Saturday 6th December was Chula Vista Yacht Club's Christmas dinner. Everyone provided some food and a wrapped present worth around fifteen dollars. The turkey dinner was wonderful with about twice as much food than was eaten. Then a member dressed as Santa, with his own bushy white beard, played his part magnificently. After the meal, he auctioned off the wrapped presents from under the tree, proceeds to the club fund. He would say if they were heavy or light, whether they sloshed or rattled, firm or squidgy, but of course no one knew what was inside. It made a fun evening and as many "presents" sold for much more than they were worth, it must have raised getting on for $1,000 for the club.

We spent the last few days before we return home buying canned food - about £1,000 worth! - repainting the deck, and replacing some boat equipment, in preparation for our Pacific crossing next year. On 15th December we went to San Diego airport for the flight back to England - thank you, Jane, the barmaid in Chula Vista YC, for the lift. The rain was lashing down and our flight was delayed nearly two hours. As a result we missed our connection in Atlanta, Georgia. We found a later flight to Heathrow, but our bags did not. I was surprised how the detailed tracking system quickly located them as still in Atlanta (why hadn't they been transferred to our flight, then?), and they duly showed up at Gatwick the next day. Someone had opened them and turned on the EPIRB we were bringing back for a new battery. I had visions of air-sea rescue being summoned out to intercept the flight! With us now safely back in England, and Sentinel left laid up in Chula Vista, we end 2008.