along the southern coast.

Well, we did it; we finally ventured away from N dock! 9 am Friday morning, we loosed the lines and ventured out into grey. If ever there was a departing gift from the Bay, she blessed us with an 1/8 mile visibility. Made for an interesting beginning when we found ourselves face on with a freighter heading to Richmond. Good thing our ears were working right. As the fog broke outside Golden Gate, it became quite clear that whatever dream had been taking form for the last three years was suddenly, terrifyingly, inescapably swirling around us. And how exciting that reality is!

At present, we're docked in slip #402 in the Point Loma Marina, San Diego. Arriving around 8am gave us an entire day to address several minor discrepancies that we expected would occur. Our aft port solar panel regretfully failed to charge, our water maker repair kit somehow went for a walk when we needed it most, and our fleet broadband, no matter how much coercing, kept wanting to ram its head against a brick wall. Thankfully, between crew persistence and the guiding hand of mastermind Don, every proper piece was placed back in order. Now, the biggest concern is taking a shower!

For the past three days, L'Obsession (boat's name) hugged the coast stifled by a consistent southerly. When Bill analyzed the weather predictions for the area at this time of year, the likelihood of a southerly was somewhere in the 5% range. Ha! What a joke! Although it had foiled our plans to sail the gennaker, we kept a close eye on the first possible wind shift to sweep the beam. And then we had it! And what a beauty she is to let fly! Sounds like she'll be our constant companion throughout our crossing if we can keep her happy.

Once we rounded California's handle into the Channel Islands, the waters murky green turned to an exceptionally clear, deep indigo. With the sun descending on it, indigo morphs into deep purple and a certain eeriness settles in. You begin to realize how infinitesimally small and lonely you are out there until a ship passes in the wee hours of the night. Waking, after finishing a late shift, to the sounds of dolphins playing around the hulls, you experience the reality that you're far from lonely considering the breadth of life alive beneath you.

Other highlights? It didn't take long for seasickness to set in. So the theory goes, you give your body about three days to acclimate. For someone that chalks throwing up twice as a reasonable measure, three days seems pretty acceptable. We'll see how true it holds when we return to the sea tomorrow after spending the day relearning how to sway on land.

Well folks, I think I've used up all the salty lingo anyone should be allotted for one day. Looking forward to tomorrow! Love and miss you all.