Though most of the island trails were blocked by makeshift barriers to protect nesting pelicans and seagulls, two prized trails were still open for conquest–the one to the peak of Santa Barbara Island, and another to a small lighthouse on the very edge of the island. We had sailed for hours from Catalina, seeing nothing but rolling waves and the occasional scavenging bird. Now was our time. Santa Barbara has no residents, and only a small ranger house, and we would exploit that freedom in every way possible…to enjoy what nature had set neatly and alone off the coast of California.
When the road is blue, stay out of the bigger guy’s way.
Editor’s Note: This is the first of three narrative accounts of a journey at sea. More dispatches to land in the coming days.
It’s sometimes hard to swallow: the stinging reality of things we can’t change. As regular readers of AnthonyGanzer.com know, my best friend Joe is heading to Iraq on a 1-year deployment. I’ve known him for many years, since our days teaching at a Boy Scout camp in the Inland Northwest. Joe taught lifesaving, and I taught rowing, but we both cherished sailing. We were both introduced to harnessing wind by a laughing coworker pushing us into a small boat, alone. Those coworkers are long gone, most never having sailed again. Joe and I…are sailors.