Below is the text for the "Catalina for Lunch" trip report. The text along with a photo of the "Catalina for Lunch" bunch is at www.rollordrown.com/ci4lunch.html. The other guys on the trip have some interesting personal details to add, see their comments below.

Enjoy!

    Duane

The four of us launched from Cabrillo Beach on Saturday, September 20, 2003 at 5:25 am. It was still dark, and the fog was thick. Due to a strong red tide, the bioluminescence that trailed from the kayaks, paddles and small darting fish was an amazingly bright florescent green.

Daylight came soon and the fog lifted. The conditions remained beautifully calm the entire crossing over. Along the way, dolphins were numerous and widespread. Frequently, they jump out of the water and swam right by us. We landed at Two Harbors at 10:50 am. The crossing was so easy, we felt like we had cheated.

The tiny town of Two Harbors was bustling with boaters and campers, and when they inquired, we were more than happy to boast about dropping by only for lunch. That was the glory, but where was the misery?

We launched for the crossing back at 12:00 noon. Like usual, the conditions turned worse for the afternoon. With 15 knot winds and breaking 3 foot wind waves coming abeam, the dolphins were gone and misery finally found us. The wind was blowing us off course. We had to fight the chop and occasionally brace to avoid capsizing. On top of it all was fatigue from the mileage.

Our kayaks hit the sand back at Cabrillo Beach at 6:15 pm, just in time for dinner. We were all tired but glad to have done it. For Dave, Mike and George, new personal records for mileage in a day were achieved.

    Duane
    www.rollordrown.com

Great trip, Duane!

A few more comments from one of the participants...

We just couldn't resist the allure of the "Catalina for Lunch" pitch, doing an outrageous amount of paddling while sampling the delights of Two Harbors, Catalina. What a crew: a detective, a veterinarian who should have been a lawyer, a management consultant and an accountant.

Most of us have been doing longer paddles than usual this summer-- long coastal trips, crossings from Santa Rosa Island and beyond. Dave, Mike and Steve "Hullcracker" Wilson did a 35 mile coastal paddle the previous week, averaging nearly 4 knots, which was actually harder than the "Lunch Paddle." We were all disappointed that Steve couldn't go to Catalina, because of a serious family emergency.

I stayed at Mike Brown's place the previous night and carpooled down early Saturday morning, only to find Duane and Dave already waiting in line, in front of us at the Cabrillo Beach gate, at 0540. We drove in when the gate opened, finding crews setting up for that day's "Chocolate Lobster Festival," or something like that.

We readied our boats, launched in fairly tame surf and were already underway by 0525. We had fun splashing our paddles to throw out fans of bioluminescent water into the night. Stoked on adrenaline, Duane led the group at a brisk 5.3 knot pace. We tracked his glowing green paddle splashes, until we were able to get back in hailing range and remind him that we still had to do a return paddle that day.

In the dark and fog, visibility was extremely limited. So I was appointed to navigate, whereupon my faithful GPs emitted a pitiful squeak, a low battery message, then signed off, even though I had changed batteries and tested the unit the previous day. I wonder if I loaded spent batteries? Not wanting to hold up the group while we possessed such fierce momentum, I seamlessly switched from digital to analog. So, I became George "Compass" Miller for the duration of my watch, navigating by magnetic force and dead reckoning.

We had a little confusion about courses. I had laid out and distributed in advance a course taking us through the shortest route through the sea lanes, but Duane announced that we would take the most direct overall route, which I could certainly understand, considering the distance we would have to cover that day. With the salt caked on my glasses, droplets on the compass glass and glare of my headlamp on it through the murky darkness, I could barely see the letter "S" and tried to hold the azimuth just to the left of it to get to the approximate course of 200 deg. M. With absolutely no fixed reference points, it was a minor miracle that we came out reasonably close to the planned track. With head down, concentrating on the blurry image and holding the course, I felt cross-eyed and a bit dizzy. It was lucky that we had the other guys to keep watch while I was head-down.

A large ship passed at a comfortable distance, in the already thinning fog. We saw many schools of particularly active dolphins on steroids that morning, thrashing around, playing by and under our boats, jumping up to 8 animals abreast, the occasional young Turk leaping 5-6' clear of the ocean. They even splashed us, but never even touched the boats. Mike reported sighting a large 20' white object (possibly the ghost of Moby Dick?).

As the fog lifted, we could see other boats to starboard, headed in the direction of Two Harbors, helping us to confirm our course and that we were headed in the right direction, but a little east of the planned track. When we stopped for a break, I changed my GPs batteries.

Participants took turns navigating and setting the pace, while others kept watch and critiqued the navigators. We all had a tendency to lead way too fast, restrained by the others.

Two fast ferries passed us by. Already drunk fishermen, hanging from the rails of party boats, shouted incomprehensibly as their captains steamed them out to sea. They don't call 'em "party" boats for nothing.

At about seven miles out, sharp-eyed Duane was the first to spot light colored cliffs east of Two Harbors. He also spotted the gap that harbors Two Harbors.

Everyone hydrated and ate copiously, That, along with the good weather, previous training and psyching, made the crossing seem too easy.

We pulled into the beach at the left of the pier in Two Harbors around 10:45, effectively turning this trip into the Catalina BRUNCH paddle. This afforded us the ability to leave earlier and get back comfortably before darkness. Some ate lunch they toted, others ate at the outdoor cafe, which later caused me some of the most difficult moments of the trip. Memo to self: do not, repeat, do NOT, eat a greasy cheeseburger and quaff a coke before paddling back across 20 miles of open sea. Since I switched to a lower cholesterol diet, such fare seems oilier than it ever did before.

Seeing our outlandish gear-- wet hydroskins, Tilley hats for the oldest participants, knives, headlamps-- that didn't fit in with tourist or boater chic, more than one person asked what we were doing. Most were incredulous that we had paddled to Catalina from the mainland, let alone planning on returning within the hour.

We hung around, enjoying the scenery and soaking in the warm sunshine, before going back down2thec and readying our craft for the return voyage. I noted the large number of boats moored in the harbor, even after the "end of the season." Ah, but California is wonderful; only a non-native can appreciate it as much as I do.

We launched at noon, heading back north to the mainland. There were only a few wind ripples on the placid beach, but a south tailwind helped whisk us out of the harbor. The weather forecast accurately predicted the West wind conditions outside. We hit a stronger crosswind farther out.

Duane insisted on compass navigation, so we did that. Since the mainland wasn't in sight, we had to do it right. The increasing west wind and 3' wind waves, tended to blow us downwind, in spite of heading allowances.

One of our party developed shoulder problems, but doggedly slogged on at only a slightly reduced pace. We took hourly breaks and chatted amiably, but chatting turned to gritted teeth as the return trip went on, and on. The greasy luncheon (bruncheon?) had its revenge on my G.I. system, helping to reinforce my future diet discipline.

A 40-45' sailboat stopped and the skipper asked just where we were returning from, shaking his head in bemusement when I told him. What looked like the same "Ship of Fools" fishing boat with the drunken screamers passed us by on its return trip, with a repeat performance. Numerous craft sped back to the LA harbor area, leaving us bobbing in the wakes. Two large freighters idled by, possibly waiting for permission to enter the harbor and/or dock.

The 15 knot winds grew stronger as we approached shore. Since we were well east of the course track, we had to ferry upwind (and upwave) just when both were growing even more formidable. The constant slamming of the waves, brisk breeze, and spray from the waves took its toll. We had to stay alert and brace through the steepest whitecaps. I had to make a sprint for shore to the waiting outhouses. The wind got continuously stronger after we landed. We're glad we left early and didn't have to land and unload in the dark in "Hurricane Harbor," an affectionate name the local sailors bestowed on the area.

After landing, we all congratulated each other in relief, loaded up our gear and dined at the excellent Baha Fish Company on Gaffey Street to partially restore energy levels. I was impressed that 62 year old Mike Brown nonchalantly made the trip with us. Instead of Social Security checks, he does radio checks. Finally, we wearily made our ways home in traffic-- Orange County and Ventura/San Fernando Valley contingents.

    George Miller

On Friday night, in remembrance of my first Catalina Crossing, I place a scopolamine patch behind my left ear. At 0525 we launched into the fog and blackness. For those who have never done this it is an eerie feeling with the phosphorescence of the kayak wakes and the LED illuminated fish visible in the clear water. The water was perfectly still, there were sounds of moving water from the boats and, I assume, wee fishes and other beasties breaking surface. All of sudden the water to my right was bright with a moving object which appeared as long as my kayak. I cold not make out anything else except the white shape. I found out later that whatever it was also appeared under and around Dublin Dave's boat.

Dawn broke in a fog necessitating our continuing to navigate by GPs and compass. As the fog lifted we were treated the greatest dolphin show I have ever seen. Duane was too conservative in his description of hundreds of dolphin doing airborne acrobatics as well as swimming alongside, under and through our little group. This alone was worth the trip!

The way back was rough from the moment we left the harbor. Somewhere around 10 miles out the fun sort of ended and the work began. No dolphin, no sunfish, no jumping schools of small bait fish. Just cross wind and rear quartering seas. Getting blown off course and having to push hard with minimal change is site picture of our destination was frustrating. We made it, though!

Our speed out started too fast--lack of visual perceptions. We consciously slowed down but our average, while moving, went from 4-4.4 kts. On the way back, this decreased to 3.7 kts overall until we hit those final winds. It seemed like we were paddling forever with no advancement toward a goal. We finally landed without incident.

Thanks Duane, for the pressure to do this event. A lot of hard work but the satisfaction of being able to do it with good companions and overall great conditions made it worth while.

    Mike Brown