We live a scant 15 miles from Santa Cruz, and we’ve been there hundreds of times for various reasons. But this is the first time we’ve ever “toured” Santa Cruz by water. It’s truly a different point of view, and I can confidently tell you that the ocean is a very large presence when you meander across its surface in a very small kayak.

Here’s a link to our track-map, showing where we went. You can click on the individual reporting points to get speed, time, direction. Our original intent was just to go from the harbor to the wharf – but things changed a little bit along the way.

https://share.delorme.com/gregilles

[Side note here: we have a shared penchant, or character flaw, as the case may be, for naming our vehicles. For several years now, our valiant little kayak has languished for the lack of a truly inspired name. At last, in a fit of angst, we settled on what we think is a decent name – perhaps inspired by our Aussie friends who named their truck “Tfor” (T for Truck). Ta-da, please meet our old/new friend for water traveling, our Sea Eagle FastTrak – – – “Bote”. Pretty fancy, huh?]

The harbor is an easy place to deal with. Parking is $10 for the day and includes boat launch (up to 2 kayaks). The dock is about 18” above the water, so we pumped up Bote at the car and carried her down to the dock.

The morning was still overcast even at 11:30, but we were bright in spirit and off we paddled.

This area of the coast is more exposed to the prevailing weather than down in the shelter of Monterey. In addition, the harbor is placarded with warnings about shoals at the entrance, and breaking surf under certain conditions. There is also boat traffic and the harbor dredge to contend with. So it was all a new, and somewhat intimidating, experience for us.

But the swells were light at 2 feet, and the wind was still mild at 8 knots, so we rounded the harbor jetty and headed west. Far in the distance (but really only about a mile or so) was our objective for the day: the Boardwalk and the Wharf.

A mile doesn’t sound like much, but at our average casual-speed of 2.5 mph, it still takes over 20 minutes to go that distance. Plenty of time to sight-see. As we get close to the Wharf, we can see the fishermen with their lines like spiderwebs out into the water, and we stayed well away from the pier to clear them.

On the windward side, nobody likes to fish (the lines drift under the pier and get snagged). So we were able to get close and see the extensive layers of seals and sea lions that like to lay up on the cross-planking. Curiously, this platform is about a full seal-length out of the water. We saw several seals energetically fin themselves up about 3/4 of their body length in what seemed an exploratory look – but we never saw a seal actually get up out of the water and onto the cross-planking.

Since we still had plenty of time and spunk, we set our sights further westward, toward a popular surfing spot near Point Santa Cruz. It’s called Steamer Lane, and for good reason: the prevailing swells cause the waves to break right along the rocky shoreline cliffs, and the resulting breaker rolls along the rock face like a steam-engine train, full of white clouds of spray and a loud, booming presence.

As we paddled over, the swells got larger, the kelp got denser, and we were not a little concerned about getting swept into those lovely breakers. Since the last thing on Earth (or water) that we wished to do was try out kayak-surfing, we stayed well away from shore. It limited our ability to watch the surfers, but it kept our blood pressure within limits.

After watching the surfers for a while, the otters began to get our attention (and that of other kayakers as well). These guys are always a treat, with their cute pug-nosed faces and undaunted curiosity. We let ourselves drift among them, and got quite close. I’m not sure how close would begin to bother them, and we didn’t want to disturb them so we did not do the experiment. Suffice it to say that 10-20 feet was no problem.

As we paddled easily along, Karin gave out a shout and a point, and there off the southern side of Bote about 50 yards was a pod of dolphins cruising by. They surfaced and dove again and again until they were out of our sight. What a grand and delightful surprise.

Heading back eastward, the shoreline has many cliffs carved out by the waves. You can’t see these from standing on the shore; makes me think twice about how stable the land is above these areas. Pretty, though.

On our way back, we elect to cross under the Wharf. On the eastern side there is yet another seal resting-place, this one very close to visitors. You are, of course, not supposed to feed them. Hah.

As we pulled away, a small group of rental kayakers came near. What a comical appearance they made, thrashing around, paddles akimbo, a chaos of color and bumbling. After a few minutes, they (sort of) got their boats under control, and wandered off in the direction we’d come from. There are a lot of rental-kayak activities in this area (deservedly so), and the typical skill level is zero, but it’s something that is easily learned, at least the basics.

At long last, the sun decided to shine on us a little bit. The camera actually started to produce photos that would not need 15 minutes of post-processing. I was a happy paddler.

Again heading eastward back to the harbor, the otters posed for us in typical familiarity.

We’d had such a great time, that somehow I managed to over-shoot the harbor on the way back. It was nearly a mile past before I realized I’d been aiming at the rocks at Soquel Point instead of the harbor jetty.

By this time, the wind had picked up to over 10 knots, the swells were running at 3 feet or more, and the tidal current was almost directly against us. We seriously thought about whether we should beach Bote and get a cab to the harbor, but we elected to paddle demonically for the last stretch of our day. Karin was a trooper, and we dug in hard and made headway.

The wind and waves served to deliver a copious amount of water into our faces, clothes, and the boat. We were pretty much soaked by the time we got back to the harbor. The glassy smooth water inside the breakwater was a much-appreciated blessing, and we packed up Bote and stuffed everything into the car.

Now, what better way to celebrate a fine paddling day than a lovely late-lunch on the top deck at the Crow’s Nest, overlooking the area we had just visited. Harbor in the foreground, then the Wharf, and the far cliff face above Steamer Lane.  Life is good.