We pushed off from Half Moon Bay at 8:15 this morning under soft gray skies. The wind was light and the sea, glassy and still. Pelicans crowded the harbor, plunging and gliding in their usual chaotic ballet—it’s always a sight.
Once clear of the breakwater, we settled in for the journey south to Monterey. The coast here is stunning, even under overcast skies. Dramatic cliffs, hidden coves, and quiet beaches slip past slowly when you’re traveling at 6 or 7 knots. There’s something grounding about seeing the seals where they belong—in the surf and swell, not draped over docks or lounging on navigation buoys.
And then came the whales. First just one. Then a pair. Then another. Humpbacks, surfacing and diving again, sometimes close enough to catch your breath. One group was actively feeding right near the boat—mouths wide, diving deep, surfacing together. It felt like a gift. The kind of thing you don’t plan for, can’t predict, and never forget.
Later, in the still center of Monterey Bay, we came across a floating tree limb with a couple of sharks circling nearby. Strange and wild.
As we closed in on Monterey, the wind finally came up enough to cut the engine and sail the last stretch. And just as we were making our approach, a pod of dolphins appeared—escorting us in like playful sentries. We tied up at 6:30 PM after nearly 10 hours on the water.
Francesca is now docked between two towering fishing vessels—quiet tonight except for the gulls and creaking dock lines. Tomorrow, we explore.