By camping so close to Diablo Canyon we had started this day 4 miles behind schedule and had over 29 miles to go if we hugged the shore. Instead we decided to cut across the bay making a long crossing but cutting our day back down to only 25 miles. The fog and low overcast made it difficult to see the shoreline we were heading for so we took a compass bearing in case we lost all sight of land. But the fog slowly lifted until it was a clear day. On the way across we saw sea lions everywhere.
We came close to shore south of Pismo Dunes Beach, south of most of the dunes with off-road vehicles on them. Far out to sea before we got close to the land we could hear their engines buzzing. Silently flying north past us were thousands of sooty shearwaters. These dark sooty colored birds, sort of gull shaped but a little smaller, travel in huge strung out flocks. A wide strip of them flew past us for over an hour. They were shy and the whole strip would move aside to avoid flying over us or even very close.
Eventually we came to the end of the bare dunes and the start of Mussel Point. The water was calm and we were able to paddle close We looked at the beaches before and after this point with great interest because we might have to camp here if Point Sal Beach was patrolled. During my planning I had called each of the parks on our route asking about the availability of drinking water. The answers determined how many bags of water we had to carryl. When I called the number for Point Sal Beach, I think I actually got a guard at Vandenburg. Someone answered by saying something fast that I could not understand, like “This is 5556789”. I asked if this was the number to get information about Point Sal State Beach and asked if there was drinking water available there. The reply was “YOU CANNOT CAMP THERE, and no there is no water”. I hadn’t asked if we could camp there, only for drinking water. To make sure, I asked if there was drinking water at the top of the trail. Point Sal State Beach is very remote, just above the north boundary of Vandenburg on some maps, inside the boundary on other maps. The trail from the nearest road is 9 miles long, steep, rugged and often washed out by winter storms. To answer my question about water at the top of the trail, he said "No water there, but YOU CANNOT CAMP THERE. If you do the Air Police will come and give you a big fine”. I told him I had never heard of the “Air Police” and he dithered and only said that they police that beach. When I asked if he meant the Air Force out of Vandenburg he curtly said “Yes”.
Unfortunately the beaches before Mussel Point and the two miles of beaches between it and Point Sal were steep with poor landing and little room for camping above the crashing waves. Above the sandy beach a band of hard rock stuck out of the dunes. This rock had been worn off by the sea and polished to a bright sheen by the dune sand in the wind. In the afternoon light it caught the light and looked like a vein of solid metallic aluminum 10 feet thick sticking out from under the dune sand.
As we rounded Point Sal the wind started to get strong. The water was still pretty calm and I cut in between the outer rocks to try and surf around the corner. Konstantin shouted “Mike!” just as my wave came and shot me forward and inside the point. I surfed far enough away that I had to wait for Konstantin to catch up to say that he had shouted to warn me about a big wave coming! In the protection of the point a bed of kelp held a large community of mother sea otters with their cubs in tow.
We examined the south-facing coastline searching every nook and cranny for a place to camp and found only poor choices. We were able to land a few times but the sand was going to be under water at high tide. It might have been possible to drag the boats up to a rocky shelf and then camp but we would be exposed to the wind. The northwest wind was shrieking over Point Sal at least 15 knots by then and turning to blow from the east onto the beach. Konstantin lead the way to land on this large beach with a steep sand bank and dumping waves We walked up and down the beach to check it out. On one end we found three surfers who had hiked down the long trail with their boards only to find that the southern swell was missing. They were planning to camp the night and were told by a rangers aide in Pismo Beach that this was OK! On the other end of the beach we found a sandy floored cave to camp in with shade from the afternoon sun.
In front of the cave the waves were mild and even Konstantin said “Why didn’t we land here first?” We had to launch our boats in the dumpy section in the middle of the beach before we could paddle down here and settle down for the evening. After my bad experience on Lost Beach a few weekends ago I was scared of launching on dumpy beaches and begged Konstantin to help time the waves and push me off. This went well for me. Then I sat in my boat only 20 feet from shore and watched Konstantin take a beating in the surf. I felt guilty seeing him get pummeled and dragged up and down the beach while sand was ground into his hair and into the gaskets of his paddle jacket. The waves kept turning his boat around, so he finally managed to backpedal out over the waves.
We landed in front of the cave and set up camp, which did not involve tents this time. In the interest of an early launch the next morning we planned a cold breakfast, organized big lunches and slept in the cave so our tents were already packed. We wanted an early start for the 36 mile paddle planned for the next day to get past Vandenburg Air Force Base.