From the mobile desk of E. R. Harris: Anacapa Passage

4:20 AM

Although the morning began a bit funky, there was nothing to indicate that Saturday would be a good day to die. It was dark, the alarm was a brutal wake up call, jarring me from dreamland, and allowing the slow creep of consciousness to set in. The Islands! My mind was racing, lots to do quickly. Get the gear, pre-packed, load up, get to Captain Neil’s house at the appointed time. Of course I couldn’t find his place, the plains of Oxnard behind some random industrial park, and my phone call to help me get to his place was his wake up call. That meant we were bogging. Bummer, because as Neil is doing seventeen thousand preparation steps to get the boat ready to tow down to the harbor, my friend Elan was already there at the appointed meeting time, waiting eagerly for a day of adventure and surf on the Channel Islands. Little did we know just how much adventure we would go through. How could we possibly know what we were about to endure?

6:00 AM             We are finally on the boat motoring slowly through the harbor to the breakwater wall, and once we were past the slow zone buoys on the outskirts of this busy port, we could fire up and head out across the Channel.

“Hey! Are those bananas? Bananas are bad luck on boats! You didn’t know that?” Captain Neil was looking at me with some seriousness, and I did a double take. “What? Why? What do you mean?”

“Yeah, it’s bad luck on boats, don’t ever bring bananas on boat trips.”

Elan and I look at eachother and start to wolf down the four or five bananas that I unknowingly brought on board. We tossed the peels into the water to try to get the karmic power of bad energy off our vessel, our hope being that if we didn’t actually bring them all the way out there, it wouldn’t count. Boy were we wrong.

6:45 AM Crusing across the Channel it was a bit gloomy. Anacapa Island loomed to our port side, ominous and desolate. Almost a King Kong island, and I wasn’t the only one feeling that from the triangular wedge of land sticking up some 17 miles from the mainland. The fog line was clear, however, and it was obviously a mainland bank that was surely going to break up once we rounded the corner and headed down Anacapa Passage towards the backside of Santa Cruz Island. It was going to be an epic day, clear crystal waters were awaiting, and the promise of good surf was also making the three of us quite giddy and talkative. Lots of stories and talk about previous boat trips, although this was the first time ever for my friend Elan. It was a personal dream of his to go out the islands and surf. I assumed when the day started that I was making his dreams come true, stoking a friend in the art of missions to the islands. We had fishing poles, snorkeling gear and plenty of surfboards. Ready for adventure!

8:30 AM We arrive at Mar Meadows to the dismay of every other boat and surfer already camped out there, enjoying the gorgeous tropical-like conditions. The water clarity was incredible, it was murky at first in some places near the kelp line, but in others you could see easily 40 feet. Long tendrils of bull kelp were growing in vast colonies all along the coast, presenting a bit of problem for motoring around to check surf spots. There were eight or twelve guys in the water, but it seemed pretty mellow. Then a legitimate set came through and I was into my suit in a flash, board thrown over the side, splash! Ahhhhh! The inviting emerald green waters were so cooling, but not uncomfortable. I was so fired up and paddled over to the lineup. It was breaking medium-sized, with 4-6 foot ordinary sets, with some bigger overhead sets definitely coming through after long intervals. So the pack thinned! Suddenly it was me and Elan and Neil, our boat, and maybe one our two other non-factors, guys with shortboards sitting on the inside, content to catch the scraps or the smaller ones we didn’t snatch up. God it was so free! Some of the most epic and memorable surf I can remember riding! Turquoise, crystal clear, breaking right off a knobby rock that marked the takeoff zone. Again and again I would stroke into sets and carve huge high turns on the most flawlessly clean faces, not a drop of water out of place. Big re-entry free falls drops after lip hitting turns, it was like a machine! I was loving it! I even went left a few times and stayed high in the pocket for some kelpy, bumpy, but absolutely perfectly peeling nuggets. Elan was shredding absurdly. Of course, as his energy somehow attracts, he wasn’t in the lineup for five minutes before some guy has to show ownership and tells him: ‘don’t paddle in on my wave, you kind of messed that one up for me.’ Wow. Elan was flabbergasted. He just seems to be too good, too skilled, too aggressive – he doesn’t back down, I guess other surfers feel threatened by it. I love the way he rips. Neil got his licks in too, a few big drops with some nice long, carving cutback turns. Dolphins even carved their way through the lineup to show their pleasure with the wave riding feats occurring in their home. They launched out of the air in a salute to the maneuvering us wannabe marine mammals were performing on their favorite playground.We surfed for a few hours, other boats showed up, and it was time to rotate back to the boat, replenish with some vittles and figure out where to take the adventure next.

11:55 AM Munching grub we were all stoked. Sitting on the boat, anchored with a perfect view of the A-framing rock, reef break, we saw all the sets and the quickly clogging lineup. More and more surfers kept popping out of nowhere off other boats. We couldn’t believe our luck. At one point we were by ourselves at Mar Meadows on a Saturday with good south swell running for at least forty-five minutes. Our rotation was just perfect timing. We were having such a damn good day. Would it continue to be a heavenly experience, one we wouldn’t ever forget? Yes, but we would remember it for other reasons than the epic waves we rode.

12:35 PM Yes! Pinks was breaking! Unreal! It was very hard to tell without bringing the boat through a minefield of kelp, but it was definitely breaking. Long waits for sets, but there was some action going on. I was on it first. Long paddle from our relatively kelpless anchor spot, and the muscles were already feeling it. I had surfed the past few days before as well, so I was locked in, but sore. Ahhh, setting up at the break, I was there for the first time in my life. A place that was so special, so irie, so full of life that it was hard to describe. Black cormorants stood tall and at attention, buffing out their chests among a score of pelicans on the rocks at the top of the point. They barely ever moved despite the occasional wave action crashing whitewater up among their midst. Underneath was waving sea grass and a marine sanctuary of life, fish swimming everywhere, rays darting by, a seal was so curious he hung around popping up constantly. I was in heaven. The other boys were dropping a line in the water and chilling on the boat. I was just by myself, on the back of Santa Cruz Island, at the base of jagged cutting arroyo, with unique geological colorations and striations to observe on the steep cliffs creating a half oval around the point break. I could not believe my luck. Vacation just starting, and here I was surfing a remote island break, solo, musing upon life and the wonders of the natural world. Then came the first set. I had been sitting awhile. Whoa! That wasn’t a small dribbler, I immediately stroked for the shoulder, I was way too deep to get this one, I dug for the next shoulder trying to get over far enough to pull a late drop, still too deep . . . ahh, but the last one in the set, the one breaking the furthest out, the biggest, a nice head high wedge, curling up in front of me like a bastion of goodwill in a universe of chaos. It was all mine, I stroked in, popped up to my classic dropknee stance and began to stay high under the lip, carving and pumping down the line. I was soooo fast! A tad smaller than Mar Meadows, but way faster, more sectiony, I was focused on making it. Once around the first couple corners, the wave began to stand up and hold off just enough for a big roundhouse cutback, whack! Off the whitewater behing me, rebounding me right into the pocket, yeeeeeeeahhhh! Near cover-up, but a few more excellent carving turns at the end corner of the wave and a kick out just before the rocks on the far inside. Holy Toledo! I yelled as loud as I could with a hoot of ecstatic energy! The boys on the boat responded, and started to stir around a little bit. Hmmmm, they must have been thinking, that looked kind of fun. Oh it was, and there were many more after that. Neil paddled out we talked and shared waves, then Elan, we stayed together for a bit till Neil’s shoulder began to give and he paddled back. So too long time bros stayed out there trading waves and stoke for the place, the island, the life. I let Elan have it to himself for awhile and paddled in, holy shit, I was out there for almost three hours! What a session to remember. Especially after already having an even better session with longer more A-framing waves just hours before. This day was special, we could feel that much.

3:45 PM All aboard, we began to slice and dice our way out of the kelp beds out to the deeper water to start to head back home. What a day, we were exhausted but exhilarated, and we had lots to talk about. Gabbering away the Trevor D began to float us past Yellow Banks, an anchorage that had a few masts. The wind began to change the gorgeous sunshine daydream into a bit of texture and a need for putting on some warmer layers. Click. Click. “Uh, oh, that’s not good. We might have a problem.” The Captain suddenly exclaims after the motor suddenly, and without warning cut out. “What happened?” “I don’t know, it just died on us. The battery or something. Maybe a fuse blew, I gotta check it out.” We were transformed within an instant of electrical failure from a heavenly outing to the islands with waves garnered and sunshine a plenty, to a boat that more resembled a sitting duck than an ocean-going vessel. No radio either. What the fuck?! Just like that, no cell phones, no radio, no GPS, no motor, no way home. “This is getting kind of serious here.” Neil proclaimed after an hour of fiddling around and finding no solutions. We tried our best to help, but with no mechanical experience from either Elan or myself, we weren’t much but sitting ducks as well. Oh well, a couple more hours of daylight, despite a growing breeze, still pretty enjoyable out here, even though we are rapidly drifting away from Yellow Banks and towards Anacpa Passage. Cracked a beer, dropped a line. Waited for something. Anything to happen.

4:55 PM               My suit was half on. We had to do something. I was going to paddle for the nearest mast at Yellow Banks anchorage. Not easy to estimate the distance, either two miles or a lot more. I was pretty damn tired after some snorkeling and nearly six hours of surfing, and not a lot of sleep. But what was there to lose, got to try something. Right then a fishing ship was coming relatively along our path. We immediately started getting towels and waving them frantically and trying to gain their attention. It seemed to be working. Phew! That was close, we should be good now. We got them to radio in Vessel Assist, a private tow and assistance company for boats in distress, a service Neil pays good money for. The Mirage was a big two decker, the captain informed us that they should be out there in 45 minutes to an hour. Cool, OK, they know we have no radio, no motor, they are on their way, we should be OK. They’ll tow us across the Channel, we’ll get back kind of late, but hey, what an experience, right? Wrong.

6:55 PM              Not a ship in sight. Not a sign. Nothing. Wind was now not a joke, it was whipping up, and you could tell the Channel was pretty rough. We were on a direct course, drifting helplessly towards the western edge of Anacapa Island, and there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it. It was over 500 feet deep on this edge of the island, and it was hard to set an anchor that is only 250’ in water twice as deep. Doesn’t work. We had no means of communication, and the sun slowly, but surely dipped below the highest peak of Santa Cruz Island to our west. Our night was just beginning, and we kept our eyes peeled to the horizons trying to see something that could possibly help us.

7:55 PM              Dusk. Nothing. What the hell, Vessel Assist, where are you? Coast Guard, were you notified? I was quickly learning the hard way that lack of full preparation and botched communications can lead to a possible disaster, one that could cost us our lives. This wasn’t a joke anymore. Life jackets were on, moods were grim, and darkness set in.

9:00PM                We flashed battery operated flashlights, and a power pack light into the air in a futile effort to summon help from the heavens. Please, someone has to know we are out here. “My wife will call the Coast Guard after dark. The problem is, I don’t know if we’re going to make it around Anacapa Island. If we start getting close, it’s wetsuits on, get ready to paddle.” That was not good news from the captain. I began getting very weary, and sick, and lost a lot of vitality into the glowing phospherence that appeared in the water as my insides emptied to the sea. Miserable, freezing, getting tossed now by some rough seas, the winds were blowing close to 20 knots, with gusts higher. We watched for rogue waves, held on, and hoped for the best.

10:00 PM           I was down. Laying underneath the cabin, a pile of worthlessness. Elan and the Captain continued to signal the best they could with their makeshift lights, but we weren’t doing much other than staying adrift, riding in the current on a steady course with Anacpa Island. The moon rise was an elegant beauty, the stars and the Milky Way shone like nothing I have even seen before. Elan began to get some songs going, we got through a shaky rendition of ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand’ and ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’, but singing and appreciating how our eyes adjusted to the pitch darkness to see stars like never before did not keep my spirits up, and I melted again into a state of total exhaustion. How was I going to muster up the power to put on that freezing cold wetsuit? I kept asking myself, how can I get up and help? But I would drift into a rolling ball, smacking my various limbs against the coffin-like confines of the cabin compartment.

11:00 PM           How many countless hours can the wind blow? How long can the seas roll? How long until those spires off the west coast of Anacapa become an invisible graveyard for Trevor D? Paddle time was getting very near. It was becoming clear we were not going to sneak around the edge of the King Kong Island safely. We were still too deep to anchor according to knowledge of charts, and there were definitely places to run aground coming up within the hour. It might be our best bet, just get all the food, all the water, put it in a bag, strap the boards together to form a makeshift raft and paddle for the rocks. They would not be forgiving, and in this sea, in this darkness, nothing was guaranteed. Neither was the current, our boat weighs a lot more, we might helplessly get sucked back into the Passage, away from land, or even worse, into the Channel, where seas were twice as rough and giant tankers without the presience to watch for bobbing castaways were cruising. I was so sick, that I tried and tried to crawl out of the hole, but could not.

11:45 PM           “What’s that light!! What’s that light, see that over there! That!” Elan was shouting. There had been many hopeful ‘look at that light’ calls already, none had panned out, but this was different, this was in the sky, and too low for an airplane. The Coast Guard? Please let that be a chopper! Within fifteen minutes of frantic flashing and yelling from Neil and Elan, the slowly circling helicopter called the Dolphin finally came within range. “Rapha! We’re saved! Dude, we’re saved!” The words sounded surreal, I didn’t truly believe them, I was still trying to mentally digest the fact that I was going into the Pacific Ocean in the middle of the night, exhausted and sick. But maybe not! Maybe we were saved! Not quite out of the woods, at least we were spotted and our coordinates were established. Now the question was, could we safely set an anchor in these rough seas, was it too deep, would we get flipped by trying to do so in such unpredictable and dangerous an anchorage as open ocean exposed Anacapa Passage? The helicopter left for awhile came back, and did that a few times. It was a bit discouraging, we weren’t totally sure they spotted us, until after midnight, finally they hovered, and dropped a line. Was this going to be like the movies? We literally get clipped to a cable line and hauled up? We were so out of it that when the clip came down, we hooked it to a chair on the boat. And stood there. ‘Yeah, we’re saved!’ Meanwhile, the guys in the Dolphin must have been cursing us, look in the bag you idiots! Finally, Elan has the wherewithal to open the little black waterproof bag attached to the clip, and sure enough a satellite phone is inside, and we let the clip go back up, and the copter began to rise a bit and get out the way so we could hear them over the newly acquired communication device. Wow, technology saving our asses! Talking to the Coast Guard relieved a lot of anxiety, and although we weren’t home free, we still had to wait for the Big Boat and get towed across a seriously rough Channel – no guarantees there – but at least we were not adrift, for hours, getting hammered by swell, blown by wind, our confidences and our spirits slowly decaying under the steady glaze of ocean temper. Now we likely could tell our wives, our girlfriends that were safe, at least for the time being.

2:35 AM              Neil was on the bow with the Coast Guard crew on theirs, shouting instructions over the wind. Elan had the radio handy to repeat anything he could not get over the wind and the engines. He somehow was able to catch a toss after four attempts, while hanging onto a rope on the edge of going over, and hook two separte wire eye hooks to either cleat on port and starboard sides. I never could have done it. The Captain came through when he needed, despite his lack of rest and the stress and burden of having brought us out here to be sitting ducks, he was making the decisions and the moves he needed to help get us home safe. Creating a V- shaped hook, a massive tow rope was connected to our bow, and we began the long arduous way back to harbor. We skirted around the backside of Anacapa Island before entering the Channel, a few last minutes of reprieve before the maelstrom cooking pot of the waters in between the islands and the mainland. The moonlight defined the multitude of sections that formed Anacapa, there were so many different distinct land masses, culminating with the signature of Ventura and the Channel Islands experience, the arch on the eastern edge. I could view city lights through the arch of the mainland. And I wondered, would I really make it back. Despite being under the watchful eye of these professional life-savers, I was so miserably tired and close to my threshold, that even behind the bright lights of the tug, I just couldn’t be positive this was real. Dreams and reality became intertwined, as I sat there trying to encourage Neil to stay awake at the wheel so that we didn’t get flipped around by an errant wave, or a snapping of one of the cables, the lifelines that were deftly bringing us home to warm beds and future possibilities.

4:25 AM              We were within eyeshot of the harbor, the winds had died closer to shore, and the task of surviving to tell the tale was closer than ever. Yes! City lights never looked so good!

5:00 AM              After a transfer from Coast Guard to Harbor Patrol, some hearty thank yous to the crew (read my letter), we were touching our feet to a dock. Land for the first time in so many hours! I had been awake now more than twenty four hours, and either on the boat, surfing or swimming for more than 22 hours. A marathon to be sure, with a few more little twists at the end.  We pull the van down to the boat to hook on to the trailer, and wouldn’t you know it? The engine turns over and over, but won’t catch. “Damn! I told her to fill it up! Damn!” Evidently the wife borrowed the van and forgot to fill it up with gas, we were standing there, freezing, cold, tired, sick, in a state of near shock, so ready for sleep, and yet there was another hurdle to get over. I had to wait in the van, Elan drove Neil back to the house to get a jerry can to fill up with gas and return to try to get us out of our stuck in the mud phase. Unbelievable!

5:45 AM              He returns in his other van, we fill ‘er up, and now I am going to drive his other van back his house, following him and the trusty Trevor D. One more little thing to make my life just a little harder and more meaningfull. I get into the van, slam the door, and the mirror literally shatters into a pile underneath the whell. Right on the dock ramp. An absurd karmic slap in the face! So there I am, after all that, on my hands and knees crawling around picking up pieces of broken mirror. Can’t pop the tire. Just one more thing. The situation finally elicits a touch of anger, and I let out a loud shout! Neil comes up smiling, “Hey I got another one at home.” We drop off, and he says to me as I am getting in to my truck to head home, “Hey, I told you we’d have an adventure!” We laugh, embrace and move on, to our lives, to our existence, to our loved ones, and to safety. I learned some invaluable lessons on this trip

6:00 AM              Showered, rocking back and forth if I closed my eyes, I crawled into bed shivering. I will never, ever bring bananas on a boat again!