Harbor Hopping the U.S. West Coast: A Cruiser’s Guide from Oregon to Avalon

The West Coast of the United States is a long stretch of rugged shoreline. Before leaving, I assumed it was only dotted with only a handful of safe anchorages. Many of those come with challenging bar crossings and unpredictable conditions. Sailors often debate the best way south: long offshore legs hundreds of miles from land, or harbor hopping from port to port.

When we began planning our passages down to Mexico, we asked seasoned sailors for advice. The responses weren’t exactly comforting. We were warned about dense fog, fishing boats and dangerous bar crossings if we chose to harbor hop. One circumnavigator even told me: “The ocean between Vancouver and San Diego was the worst passage in our entire circumnavigation.” Not exactly reassuring news for two new sailors about to leave the safety of British Columbia’s protected Salish Sea.

What we discovered, however, was very different from what we expected. Harbor hopping not only made the passage manageable—it gave us confidence, experience and memorable stops along the way.

Why Harbor Hop the West Coast?

Harbor hopping offers some clear advantages for cruisers making their run down the West Coast.

For sailors, or crew members, new to offshore passages, shorter hops build confidence. With safe harbors spaced a day or two apart, you can choose passage lengths that match your comfort level. Weather windows become easier to manage when you know there’s an option to duck in and wait. Thanks to today’s forecasting tools, it’s possible to time bar crossings and coastal passages safely. Although some patience and flexibility are required if the windows aren’t close together.

Logistically, hopping south is less stressful. There’s no need to provision for weeks at sea, ration water, or carry excessive fuel. With regular access to towns, you can top up supplies, fix gear, and rest. And should something break, there are many opportunities and areas to make repairs along the way.

Of course, harbor hopping isn’t all smooth sailing. Fog is common, bar crossings can be intimidating or dangerous, and hopping in and out of harbors does add time. While friends of ours sailed straight from British Columbia to San Francisco in ten days, our trip from Neah Bay to San Francisco stretched to three and a half weeks.

We chose to harbor hop because we were new to offshore sailing. In fact, we had never left the protected waters of British Columbia. I was unsure if I’d even like sailing offshore. There was comfort in knowing we were never more than a day or two from a place to stop and rest. We also had our dog onboard, and we weren’t sure how he would fare at sea. But ultimately, we looked forward to breaking up the passage and exploring the towns along the way.

The Northern Coast: Oregon to Northern California

We left Neah Bay under a fog-filled sky with Newport, Oregon, some 275 miles away as our first stop. We stayed 20 to 30 miles offshore to avoid fishing boats, which worked well. What we hadn’t anticipated was the sea state. With good wind but short-period swell, we were tossed around and grateful we’d only be out for two days.

Newport, Oregon

We bypassed the Columbia River bar, famous for its dangers, and chose Newport instead. Guides like “Charlie’s Charts” described Newport’s bar as manageable in good conditions, and we timed our arrival just before slack tide. The Coast Guard confirmed conditions, and although we were nervous, the crossing was straightforward although nail-biting at the time.

As budget-minded cruisers, we anchored in the river instead of paying for a marina berth. The anchorage was comfortable, though weekend crabbers swarmed the area with pots and small boats. Finding a place to land the dinghy was a challenge, but with help from friends at the marina and the local yacht club, we managed.

Newport proved an excellent first port: a lively fishing town with restaurants, shops, a chandlery, and good provisioning. A stop at Rogue Brewery, conveniently near the marina, was a must.

Crescent City

After a week recovering in Newport, we left with calmer swell conditions. The wind filled in and pushed us into Crescent City with 30 knots on the stern, still more wind and swell than we really wanted but less trauma inducing than the first leg. We anchored outside the harbor, where holding was excellent, though a southerly swell during a storm gave us a bouncy few hours.

Crescent City was mainly a pit stop for fuel and provisions. We enjoyed the farmers’ market and a hearty breakfast spot by the marina, but we didn’t linger.

Eureka

Cape Mendocino’s reputation for brutal seas had us looking for a staging point. Eureka, a bar crossing and river harbor, offered just that. We timed the crossing at slack tide with no wind, and the entry was calm.

Eureka quickly became one of our favorite stops. Multiple farmers’ markets kept us stocked on fresh local produce, the harbor master personally drove us to buy diesel, and the locals welcomed us with advice and even invited us to crew in their beer can races. We also sampled our first In-N-Out Burger—which lived up to the hype.

We would have stayed longer if the infamous cape hadn’t been waiting.

Central California: Challenging but Rewarding

Rounding Mendocino

Many sailors dread Cape Mendocino, and with good reason. We chose the conservative strategy: round it in as little wind as possible, hugging the coast. This meant motoring, but as a nervous sailor, it was worth it. The notorious cape was calm, and wind filled in later to carry us to Drakes Bay, 170 miles south.

Drakes Bay

Drakes Bay was a convenient staging stop before entering San Francisco. We anchored for the night, listening to sea lions and spotting our first elephant seal. It was a beautiful, quiet anchorage, though we didn’t go ashore.

San Francisco

For southbound cruisers, San Francisco is a milestone. We timed our arrival for slack tide, hoping for clear skies, and lucked out. With 15 knots on the beam and little traffic, we sailed proudly under the Golden Gate Bridge, tired but elated.

We dropped anchor in Aquatic Park, across from Ghirardelli Square. It remains one of the most memorable city anchorages we’ve ever had. Over several weeks, we used San Francisco as a base: provisioning, repairing a dead depth sounder, and playing tourist. For us, a trip to the infamous Alcatraz Island prison was worth the price of admission.

Port San Luis

From San Francisco, we made a quick stop at Port San Luis while waiting to round Point Conception. The anchorage was functional but unremarkable, and the town offered little in the way of supplies. Restaurants were plentiful, but finding fresh vegetables proved impossible. Thankfully a fellow cruiser gifted us some soup and cookies. For us, this place was simply a staging point, not a destination.

Southern California: Easy Cruising and the Gateway to Mexico

Rounding Point Conception

Point Conception, often compared to a mini Cape Horn, has a fearsome reputation. Like Mendocino, we chose calm conditions, though this time we were braver and allowed a bit more wind and the gentle Pacific swell we’d heard about. We motored and sailed around with no drama, oil platforms off our starboard side.

Santa Barbara

Santa Barbara greeted us with our first rolling anchorage. Without a stern anchor, we suffered through the constant motion and spent more time ashore than aboard. Dinghy access was awkward, but provisioning was excellent, with a West Marine right at the dock. Despite the roll-y anchorage, we enjoyed the town’s dining and amenities.

Newport Beach

Fed up with rolling, we headed 24 hours south to Newport Beach, where we finally found calm waters. The anchorage was small and strictly regulated, but mooring balls were also available. The harbor bustled with electric boats and mega-yachts, yet it remained comfortable and cruiser-friendly.

Dinghy docks were scattered throughout the harbor, each clearly marked with time limits, and we never had trouble finding space. This made provisioning, sightseeing, and dog walks easy. We strolled Balboa Island, enjoyed the boardwalks, and soaked up the easy living of Newport.

Avalon, Catalina Island

Leaving Newport, we sailed across to Avalon on Catalina Island. Most Channel Islands were off-limits with our dog, but Catalina welcomed us. Arriving in the shoulder season, we scored a discounted mooring and were escorted to our spot by the harbor patrol. The system, requiring both bow and stern moorings, was well organized and cruiser-friendly.

Avalon offered multiple dinghy docks, though provisioning and fuel were pricier than on the mainland. We didn’t need much, and instead splurged on a bison tour, learning the island’s history and spotting its unique wildlife.

Skipping San Diego

Unlike many cruisers, we bypassed San Diego. As Canadians, we didn’t need to clear out of the U.S., so we sailed directly from Avalon to Ensenada, Mexico.

Lessons Learned: What’s Easy, What’s Hard

Looking back, we don’t regret harbor hopping. Some of our most memorable cruising moments, good and bad, came from this coast.

Check the Forecast

We quickly learned that reading forecasts is more than just checking wind speed. Six-foot waves at six seconds apart are far from comfortable. Having places to duck into gave us the flexibility to wait for better conditions. Modern forecasting tools like PredictWind and NOAA were invaluable.

Bar Crossing

Bar crossings were intimidating, but manageable with preparation. We always checked multiple sources, forecasts, guides, and Coast Guard reports, and crossed at slack whenever possible.

Major Capes

The major capes and points of the West Coast deserve respect. Motoring around in calm conditions may not feel romantic, but it beats battling gales and stacked seas. We were glad to put safety over bravado.

To Skip or To Linger

If we were to do it again, we’d skip Port San Luis and spend more time in San Francisco and Newport Beach, our favorite stops along that coast.

Bottom Line

For us, the run down the U.S. West Coast wasn’t just about reaching Mexico. It was the start of our cruising voyage. Harbor hopping gave us the chance to explore vibrant towns, gain experience in real ocean conditions, and learn patience with weather windows.

It taught us how to manage bar crossings—skills that came in handy later in El Salvador—and how to relax into the rhythm of coastal cruising.

There’s no single right way south. Offshore routes work for some; harbor hopping works for others. For us, the harbors made the difference between an intimidating coast and an unforgettable journey.