Waking up yesterday in the aft belly of Kandu, the boat is calm. Wondering what to wear this fine day, I check Ventura weather on my iPhone. The icon indicates wind, but the marina water is placid. I’ve learned that when it comes to wind, I can trust the iPhone. (I’m in the processes of installing the hardware and software necessary to receive NOAA weather forecasts. I’m just not there yet, so for now, iPhone is fine.) I look up the NOAA forecast for Ventura: winds 15-25, gusts to 30, increasing in the evening with possible gusts to 40. I check Kandu’s dock lines and cinch them up for the blow. Leslie and I are leaving to LA to fetch our 8’ Sabot sailboat, lent to a friend. As we walk away from the dock, ripples of wind erase away the mirror of what was the marina’s placid surface.
The wind performs as scripted. We get the boat safely back, atop our Toyota minivan, over Los Angeles County’s Sepulveda Pass on the 405 freeway and over Ventura County’s Conejo Pass on the 101, the gusts attempting to rip her off the minivan’s roof rack. We decide to leave the Sabot on the minivan’s roof, parked in the marina’s parking lot. Tomorrow it will be calmer and easier to maneuver.
Kandu is snug in her slip, as expected. While dinner is prepared, the boat rocks side to side. The wind howls through her rigging. I turn on the wind speed indicator. It’s blowing up to 25 mph. The cabin is warm. The boys are in shorts and T-shirts watching a video on our portable Sony Blu-Ray player, their filthy bare feet just above my sleeping pillow. New rule: Wash bare feet before entering cabin. After dinner, the boys finish their movie and go to their berths in the fo’c’s’l (short for ‘forecastle’). As Leslie and I climb into our shared aft berth, the wind builds. We are both very happy to be safely docked in our own slip, double tied; appreciating this won’t always be the case. We both know we will experience these types of winds while sailing and while at anchor, and thus thankful for not having to have to deal with it for the moment. For now, the big bad wolf can huff and puff all he wants. We’re safe, warm little piggies, being rocked gently to sleep in Kandu’s belly.