Tips on Judging Ocean Forecasts.

Hi,

I am new to this board and to Kayak fishing and wanted to ask some questions.

I'm very near the Mendocino Coast and plan on doing most of my fishing in off the shores here. My questions are:

How do you judge ocean conditions and forecasts?
Do you use particular websites/webcams? I have been using NOAA and surf-forecast.com. But I'm finding it hard to interpret the data.
I've been told that swell height and wave period (seconds) are the 2 things to look at. Is this true?
How rough is too rough? Is there a threshold for safe kayaking?
I have a Trident 13 if that makes any difference.
Also, my job requires me to make deliveries to the coast once a week, and on the days the forecast says it's rough, I often find that it looks very calm near the shore and then gets rough way out at sea. Does this mean it's safe for fishing or are looks deceiving?

Thanks in advance for your tips.
-Keith.

I try to not make trips with the forecasted swells over 6 feet or wind over 10 knots. I've been out in much worse but if the wind is up you can't fish well and if the swells are too big I get sick. Swell isn't as big of a deal to me as wind. You can ride some pretty big swells if you have a protected launch and a scopatch. The wind sucks no matter what. I learned by going out with people that knew what they were doing. Solo is not a good way to learn ocean kayaking in my opinion. 

Merv's got it right for the mendo coast.

There's plenty of swell and weather websites, but I always refer to the good old National Weather Service (NWS) forecast:

http://www.ndbc.noaa.gov/data/Forecasts/FZUS56.KEKA.html

First, I look at the synopsis at the top of the column that forecasts the marine conditions in general for the area.  Then i scroll down to "cape mendo to point arena - out 10 miles" for the specific forecast.  These guys know what they're doing and aren't wrong very often.

  
  Knowing what the weather is going to do becomes more critical when you're further from your safe harbor. Travel time is part of the formula.

   On a power boat, the captain is always judging the wind and swell, especially if it's building .  Usually, there was a point where the Captain calls it a day, planning on enough time to return to the harbor before conditions became dangerous.  This might be sooner with children aboard. Later if you have a salty crew.   Some days, upon your return, the wind dies out and you miss out on fishing.  Other times, you just squeak into the harbor before the roaring westerly hits. In either case, the Captain showed judgment and the boat fairs for the better or worse.

 Boaters who have known the (great) captain, Bob Austin, have noted that he took the utmost care to check every facet of the weather, route and emergency systems before getting underway. He was not lazy when it came to traversing a body of water.

Don't forget your local observations.  For example, if it's foggy, there won't be any wind for awhile.   If it's clear and calm, we look across the bay to the Moss Landing power plant.  If the smoke coming from the stacks is blown over, then you can plan on a lot of wind fairly soon. Watch what the weather does the prior days. Study the radar and take note of what the experts say about it.  The follow are some of my favorite weather sites:

http://www.lajollasurf.org/nocal.html

http://www.pacificwaverider.com/bayarea/

http://www.wrh.noaa.gov/firewx/fwpfm/fwpfm.php?wfo=mtr

Two of my Faves:

http://www.lajollasurf.org/images/calanim.gif

http://weather.unisys.com/satellite/sat_ir_enh_west_loop-12.html

  I wrote this article 8 years ago.  It is still somewhat relevant:

The Captain's frame of mind:

The key to being a good Captain is to look, listen and feel for the conditions at the moment you traverse ANY body of water and have the presence of mind to change your plan. It's all about your ability to take in the information and make decisions.

Take the time to learn were your marinas are. Have their numbers handy. If you run into some weather, duck into a safe harbor.

People with their 7 knot trawlers go out with the tide and return with the incoming. Wise boaters may wait out the weather a few days.

The people who are getting into trouble are completely blind to the information that's available. IE weather radar, wind charts, tide books, visual observations, NOAA weather radio, local knowledge, etc etc.

Keep in mind the differences in people. An experienced skipper with a well founded boat will be crashing through the slop and will tell you it's a "beautiful day on the bay". Next to him will be a panicked new person who's bent on running his boat onto the rocks to "save his life".

I remember once, we were down in Capitola on my 17' aluminum Starcraft. We were powering into a 15 knot wind headed back to Santa Cruz. As we went around a point, the conditions worsened.(as they do around a point) We looked towards the point and saw a boat burning a flare. Just inside him the waves were booming down onto the reef. I couldn't see anything wrong with the boat, motor or crew, but we changed our course to see what his problem was.

I yelled above the howling wind and booming waves. The two boaters said their boat wasn't capable of handling the seas. In my mind, they were doing alright, but they were certain to be in deep trouble when they got into the waves crashing onto the reef. I told them to follow me.

We turned into the wind and beat a course through the slop, away from the reef and to the safety of the harbor. The concerned boaters followed along behind us just fine.

What I'm trying to get across is that they had lost their nerve and were allowing themselves to drift into the worst reef on the coast.

Oh, and another old story.   Hope I'm not boring you:

St. Elmo's fire

When I was young, I worked part time at the Capitola pier boat rental operation. This unseemly job put me in the middle of the fishing action on the Monterey Bay. The pay was a pittance, but I learned quickly the skills needed to fish the bay. One spring day, I heard the Salmon were in close. I decided to take one of the old, heavy, wooden pier boats out fishing.



The conditions were typical for the bay; cool gray fog covered a lumpy ocean. I boarded the heavy orange boat. Pushing away from the gangway, I pulled the starter rope on the Nissan outboard and headed out into the mist.

A few miles off shore, I set my lines and began trolling, watching and waiting for the strike of these silvery fish. The hours droned by, listening to the steady beat of the engine and humming of the lines.

Around mid morning, a fresh breeze swept over the ocean. The sky darkened the surrounding fog. I looked around at the ocean and noticed the waters turned inky black. Bright white foam from the increasing breeze danced around the boat. The popping, splashing foam, showed brightly on the darkening waters. I remembered the locals calling this condition “Popcorn chop”. I stretched upwards from the heavy plank seat of the pier boat, looking in all directions at this unusual spectacle.

The next moment I shall never forget. I felt my hair shoot straight up in all directions. Each hair was waving in all directions. I felt a million stings on my scalp. My eyes open widely. A blue green aura surrounded me. I realized that I was close to being hit by lightening and threw myself into the bottom of the boat. Frightened, I pressed my self into the slatted bottom of the boat, my head resting next to a squished tray of pungent smelling anchovies. I looked upwards suspiciously at the sky and noticed my carbon fiber Lamiglass rod sticking skyward. I crawled forward, grabbed the rod and slipped it under the seat planks with me.

With no compass, GPS or radio, I did was old timers have done for years; I surveyed the direction of the swell and turned the boat’s port bow into the Westerly swell, heading toward shore and safety.

As time past, the surrounding fog lightened and I felt better. I clasped the sides of the gunnels and peered suspiciously at the sky. I noticed the boat entered the rusty waters of a red tide. At this moment, my rod jumped from under the gunnels and line peeled off the reel. I sprang up from the bottom of the boat, clasped my rod and played a Salmon. The Salmon raced in great circles, jumping and diving. Each moment I was certain the fish would get free. After a period of time, he tired and circled the surface of the waters, just out of reach of my net. I stretched my rod hand as far back as I could, drawing the energetic salmon closer. I stretched toward the Salmon with my net hand, reaching and watching for my opportunity. The Salmon circled closer, heading for the net. I plunged the net into the waters and the Salmon swam in. I lifted the net quickly, thrilled to feel the weight of my Silvery catch inside.

Looking back, I realized that the fog had concealed the presence of the thunder clouds overhead. Even so, I should have realized something was going on when the waters darkened. I’m more careful now. I check the weather four different ways. I watch the breezes and move more quickly away from trouble than I used to. I must admit, with internet weather radar, weather radio and offshore buoy reports, keeping track of the weather has become easier.

  If you still have questions, the US Power Squadron and USCG Auxiliary have fine classes on seamanship.  I would check them out....