Sea ya later, California! Atlantean- Out.
- Abbey Seeley
- Jan 7
- 6 min read
Updated: Jan 17
After leaving Los Angeles on December 10, 2024, at around 10 in the morning, Adam and I sailed past Catalina Island. As the coastline gradually disappeared from view, I realized that this would be the last time I'd see the Long Beach skyline for quite some time. It was the first moment I truly felt the significance of what we were actually doing, and as a tear rolled down my face, I savored the moment. After four years of nonstop boat work, constant planning, and endless preparations for a future grand adventure, it had finally become a reality. The adventure had officially begun, and it felt so good to leave all the accumulated stress behind on the docks of what used to be our home.
Prior to that, as we neared Angels Gate lighthouse, we noticed a large object being towed in the water. Adam immediately recognized it as a SpaceX Falcon 9 booster. Which, if you're unaware, Adam devoted most of his career to working on. It was our first time seeing one in the ocean like that, and it felt like one of those coincidences that make you feel you're in the right place at the right time.
Adam and Atlantean's lines
Adam was thrilled to be out on the water and thoroughly enjoyed finally trimming the sails again after such a long time. His excitement got the better of him at one point, and I saw him dash from the cockpit to the mast. I glanced away for only a moment, and when I looked back at him, he was kneeling at the base of the mast with a stunned expression on his face. He had left a winch handle in the mast and accidentally bonked his head real good on it. The mark it left wasn't much, but days later, he actually had a black eye from it. It was a good reminder for us both to slow down and be mindful.
Sunsets and Ocean Wonders
We enjoyed a breathtaking sunset as we dined on chicken pot pies in the cockpit and looked through binoculars to identify what was swimming through the water way off in the distance. As the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, we sat silently, filled with awe. We had sailed to Catalina many times, but never before had we sailed past it without plans to return. It was a peculiar and thrilling sensation.
At one point, something unusual occurred that I feel is worth mentioning. I was preparing for a chilly night by changing into warmer pants in the cockpit, and Adam was at the navigation station. He asked me if something was ahead of us, and as I stood up to check, he joined me in the cockpit. As we looked forward, we both noticed something very large protruding from the water directly in front of us. It appeared to be dark grey and approximately the size of a large garbage can. My initial reaction was to avoid hitting it, but it vanished after just a second. Adam mentioned that while at the nav station, he had seen something on the radar directly ahead of us. That's why he had asked initially and came up to investigate. We are both still baffled by it, and honestly, I'm curious to know if anyone else has experienced something similar.
If I had to guess, I would say it was something like the image below that I got off Google. It looked like that, but the mouth was closed and darker in color. I don't know.. and we'll never know, but it gave us a spooky feeling that we were out there with large creatures watching us.. either that or submarines.
Bow-swimmers and technicolor yawning
It wasn't long before I decided to lie down and try to get some sleep. I went to bed around nine, and when I woke up at midnight, I immediately jumped up from the v-berth and rushed outside. In my socks and standing on the bow, I called for Adam (who had been in the head) and told him to check out what was happening. An incredible number of dolphins were swimming at our bow and all around Atlantean. I had heard them from inside the v-berth making their beautiful dolphin sounds in the water. They swam with us for quite a while.
A half-hour later, Adam laid down for bed, and it was my turn to keep watch. The seas were not happy after the Santa Ana winds the day prior, and it was not long before I was not feeling well. The handy dandy watch that I had spoken so highly of and that kept me from being sick the entire time on our shake-down cruise seemed to have lost its magic. It was cold and windy, and the motion of the ocean had me cradling a puke bucket for four hours until Adam woke up and saved me. With gratitude in my heart and not a drop of liquid or morsel of food in my belly, I crawled into bed and didn't resurface until noon.
Sunrise and Merry Times
Adam said that after I went to bed, the winds picked up, and we sailed the rest of the morning without using the motor. He captured a beautiful picture of the sunrise (my favorite part of sailing) but said he didn't want to wake me to see it because I was so ill.
At noon, we had a couple of hours remaining before reaching Ensenada, and Adam, who had been awake since four, decided to rest. The seas were calm again, and I danced around the boat with music playing through my headphones, practiced some Spanish, and did my nails. Later, as I sat back in the cockpit and gazed at the tranquil ocean surrounding me, I laughed at the truth of how sailing offers the highest highs and lowest lows. Less than twelve hours ago, I was shivering, dry-heaving, and doubting my life choices; now, I was as happy as a clam, feeling like the luckiest person alive to experience such beautiful solitude. I felt incredibly at peace, hopeful, and blessed.
Arriving in Ensenada, Mexico
We arrived at the marina under somewhat gloomy skies. The morning had been beautiful, but as we passed the break wall, the sun was getting lower, and the clouds were getting thicker. It was our first time docking at a marina that wasn't ours, and it was a sight to behold. Everything was new and unfamiliar, which made me feel on edge. We docked the boat, and as I jumped off to secure it, my heart was racing for some reason. Looking back, I can't help but laugh at how nervous I was. The docks were old and unsteady, and something kept telling me we weren't in Kansas anymore. Adam may have sailed in other countries before, but the only sailing I've done outside the US was in Canada. I was so young at the time that all the adults took care of everything, and I didn't have to worry about a thing, not so now.
It wasn't long before a Baja Naval employee walked down to greet us. Once the boat was secured, he brought us to the boatyard office. Upon checking in with them, they told us that it was too late to check in with Customs that day but that they would take us there in the morning. After completing the paperwork for Atlantean's scheduled haul out the next day, we returned to the boat for our last sleep on Atlantean until the bottom work was completed and she was back in the water.
The next morning, Adam went to start the engine, and surprise, surprise... it didn't start. I won't get into it here, but if you've been following our journey, you're probably aware of the engine rebuild debacle we've experienced, and you're probably not surprised either. Although, it was a bit odd after having done all that work, not to mention how well it had run for the previous day and a half.
Therefore, we found ourselves in a pinch because the boat needed to be pulled out at high tide, and high tide was here. We ended up throwing the dinghy in the water, side-tying her to Atlantean, and maneuvering over to the haul-out spot. I was at the helm, and Adam was in the dinghy, giving the new outboard the beans to spin the boat clear of a huge yawls bowsprit in shallow water. Then we switched places, and Adam gracefully steered us to the dock. Luckily, we had practiced this before when we had a low oil pressure scare on Santa Cruz Island a couple of weeks prior, and I don't doubt we will have to do it again sometime in the future.
Once we got the boat to where it needed to be, the same Baja Naval employee from the day before accompanied Adam and three other sailors who had come in that day to the Customs office. After we were cleared (about an hour or so later), we were informed that they would soon be taking Atlantean out, so Adam and I hurried back to Baja Naval to watch. They lifted her from the water, power-washed her clean, and placed her on the hard stands where she has remained since. And that concludes the first, albeit short, segment of our sailing journey.
Congrats on the first leg. You've already made it farther than 95% of the people who say they're going to go. Can't wait to hear more.
I read what you write, RIGHT ON. !