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So this is it, the real thing. I am sitting here on my small table in the cabin, trying to record the unprecedented, in my life at least, happenings of the last 36 hours. 'Caraboi' is pitching on a close port tack, beating her way to the southwest in a 20 knot breeze. Everything is in shape, and I am confident, that I can handle the approaching cold front.
It took me yesterday until 14:00 hours to get going, after having to go downtown San Francisco for my Customs clearance. I had a light following breeze, as I was passing under the Golden Gate Bridge into the ocean. The wind was so light in fact, that I had to run the engine for short periods, in order to maintain steerage way in the confused currents of the outgoing tide. As I made my way parallel and just outside the main ship channel, the breeze freshened, and soon I was barrelling along at close to six knots into the setting sun. Fifteen miles out, it was time for my rendezvous with the California-Hawaiian ham radio net.
And then supper. By this time I was feeling definitely queasy, and did not really feel like food, especially after smelling some of the kerosene, which had spilled out of the burners of my stove. However, I persisted and managed to cook rice and some stir-fry on the pitching boat. As I had made plenty, I only ate half, saving the rest to be fried up for the next night. I actually did put on one of the sets of acupressure wrist bands, which are now being sold against seasickness, and I also slept with them the following night. Whether this helped or not, I cannot say, but I did not bring up any of my food, and had adequate sleep in a number of one to two hour stretches. None too long, as I wanted to have a look-out for other shipping, approaching or leaving this busy port.
I merely saw two vessels,. one container ship, just entering port after I had passed under the bridge, and later, after dark, an ocean tug, also passing me inbound. As night progressed, the wind also died to an almost flat calm, and did not freshen up until this morning. That explains my not too satisfactory first day total of only 76 miles ( 1 nautical mile = 1.8 kilometers). Now we are beating at a steady four knots, more or less, in the right direction, trying to make up for lost time. Even though it is partly sunny, it is a cool 17 degrees Celsius, and I am missing the shore power, to run my heater.
This morning again, I had my radio rendezvous, giving my position to the net. Then I installed my trolling generator, and read up in the users's manual for the GPS. At noon I made myself some hot noodle soup. Yes, everything is going well. For keeping the pots on the stove, I have rigged myself some wire from a coat hanger to tie them down, and I can leave them unattended. The GPS is really quite a boon. I have instant positions, direction of travel and speed, which confirms the reading of the other instruments. A sextant altitude from the pitching deck of the boat was only three miles out from the GPS position. The GPS also gives distances and bearings to waypoints along the route. So at any moment in time, I have distance and course travelled todate, as well as for the day, and course and distance remaining to my target point. The Aries self-steering gear also performs well. I would be absolutely lost without it. Something like this is a must for the single-handed sailor. 5 January 1992
Yesterday I experienced my first full grown gale (force 8) at sea. This is the time when one is saying 'what am I doing here?' I only consoled myself by thinking of the paradise I shall eventually reach (knock on wood). Late in the morning it started to blow from the south, the direction I was heading for. I had seen the cloud bank approaching, before the heavy wind started, so I had already taken down the jib and put up my newly made storm jib in its place. But when I experienced the 35 to 40 knot winds of the gale itself, I had to reef down the main sail also. This caused me no end of trouble. After almost an hour's work I had it tied down two reefs, not very expertly done mind you, but the main thing was, that the windage was much reduced. Consequently, I had to decrease my angle towards the wind, and soon I was reaching at some 5-6 knots on a course a bit north of west.
And then I found out, where my boat was still leaking. Whenever a wave broke over the boat the fancy vents, the previous owner had installed, admitted a stream of water, soaking what was underneath. One of these vents is located right over my ham radio. However, I was quick to put a piece of plastic over it, and today it is still working. I discovered that the cockpit hatch needs a cover too, as the water sweeping along the fore deck will find its way under it and into the cabin. That I shall have to attend to in Hilo. I had read some place, that a carpet has no place in a boat on the high seas. After yesterday's experience I tend to agree. Mine is soaked, and in Hilo I shall have to wash and dry it, and then put it away, until I reach calmer waters.
Towards dark the cloud bank of the front had passed, it became clear, and the winds, and slowly also the seas, moderated. It was then time for my radio schedule with the Hawaii-California 'Cocktail' net. I made quick contact and gave my position. Wolf Mucke came on too at that time. He was quite clear for a change, but I did not waste precious battery power, so I kept my conversation with him quite short.
My attempts to light the kerosene stove proved futile. So after smoking up the cabin, I called it a day. What I could not understand was, that even after releasing the pressure, kerosene kept seeping out of the burners. Everything was a mess. Greasy, dirty dishes cluttered the sink, no hot food, most everything was damp or wet. I gibed the boat, as I was actually making northing (north of west), and I hoped that during the night I would not get too far east on the new course.
At least I slept well, after bringing up the contents of my stomach (only an orange). Luckily my sleeping bag was dry, although just slightly damp. This morning dawned bright with just a few clouds around. No ship had run me down, even though I had not bothered to get up at all during the night, nor had I exhibited any lights. Then I started to clean up. My first job was, to shake out the reefs in the main sail, and get myself on a proper course. Then I made myself some fried eggs and bacon with hot coffee, and then released the pressure in the tank, before shutting off the burners. No more leakage! Then I caulked the vents with silicone, cleaned up the cabin, and washed the dishes. Two washes with seawater and plenty of detergent finally got rid of the grease.
Around noon, after the wind had finally veered to the northwest, and I had studied the weather chart, I decided to alter course to just west of south. This would give me the greatest speed, and get me south into warmer climes, and out of the track of these winter storms the quickest. For the next two days at least the favourable winds should continue, and each day I should make at least a hundred miles of southing (my daily average so far has been 50). I may be adding days to my voyage, but then also I may not, but surely I shall be taking out of it a lot of misery. The cabin temperature is now 15 degrees Celsius. This is OK as long as one is moving about, but once sitting down, one has to bundle up with blankets or sleeping bag, to be comfortable. Seven days on this course at four knots will get me into the tropics proper, but it should get noticeably warmer much before that. Whether another gale catches up with me, before I get there, remains to be seen. These weather systems are moving east at five times the speed, that I am able to move. So there is little I can do to avoid them, except remove myself as quickly as possible from the area, where they hold sway. It is the palm fringed beaches and the warm tropical seas for me.
7 January 1992
Five days out from San Francisco, and finally for the last two days I have been making decent progress, 120 miles each day, which is about as good as one can hope for with a boat this length. And all in the right direction too. Each day I have been receiving the weather chart for the north Pacific through weatherfax. This has been of immeasurable help, to plan my course, to be prepared, and to give me peace of mind. After going through that gale three days ago, I am now skipping down along the eastern side of the 'Pacific High', which is supposed to be nearly stationary. I think, I shall be able to skip down to just below its center. Another three days should get me to 25 degrees latitude, which I consider far enough south, to be comfortable temperature wise, and also far enough south, to have met the easterly trade winds. Then I shall be safe from these infernal cold fronts and lows of the northern ocean, and can make my turn and head straight for Hawaii.
On other fronts however, I have been bedeviled with problems. Yesterday morning there was a minor crisis. The bilge was full of water, neither the electric nor the manual bilge pump seemed to work, and I set to bail the water with the smaller cooking pot. Then I started to hunt for the leak all over the boat. Finally, I thought I had found it in the loose cylinder of the water strainer for the intake of the water maker. After I had tightened it, the leak seemed to have stopped. However, this morning there was water in the bilge again. But now both bilge pumps worked. Most of the day I spent going all through the boat again, in order to find the spot, where the water entered, but without success. As of now the leak persists. I guess, I shall have to get up every three hours tonight, to pump out the bilge.
One thing that turns out much better than expected, is my ability to get enough sleep. I am getting more than enough. I have not seen another ship, since the day after I left San Francisco. But then I have not been looking around much. I have been too busy, trying to fix the problems with the boat. The overhead leaks have been another problem. Everything is damp, even my sleeping bag now too. But I still have two dry blankets to sleep in. I am longing for the hot sun of the tropics and for calm seas, where I can start drying things out. The carpet too I have now taken off the floor and put away, since it was totally soaked. What I need to buy for the floor, when I get to Hilo, is a large rubber mat about half an inch thick with lots of holes in it, like one has for door mats. The water can stay in the holes, and one does have a good non-slip surface underfoot.
The other problem is the lack of battery power. The solar panels, of course, are useless until I get into latitudes, where the sun shines strong and steady. Up here there are too many clouds and the days are short. Finally yesterday, I got the trolling generator properly mounted. However, although it had been running all night, there still was hardly any power in the batteries this morning, so that I barely got the engine started to at least charge the batteries by that last resort. I still do have 25 gallons of gasoline left, so I can charge the batteries for an hour each day, which should give me the essential power to re-charge my computer, printer, the GPS and to run my ham radio.
Faithfully twice a day, I have tuned into the California-Hawaiian net, and given my position. Wolf Mucke has also checked in each of the three preceding nights, to learn about my progress. There have been unending discussions on the net about the name of my boat. Today a ship called in from a location several hundred miles north of Hawaii. They were right in that mammoth storm, which I can see on my weather map, and which I am desperately trying to avoid by scooting off to the south, instead of holding the more direct southwesterly course. They were reporting 50 foot waves. And there again some of the guys on the net went off tangent, and quoted me as reporting 30 foot waves, whereas I am reasonably comfortable in 10 foot seas. I did not want to waste any battery power to correct them. The most important thing is, that they know I am alright, and that I am coping.
The star performer so far has been the Aries self-steering gear. Faithfully it steers the boat, all I have to do is to adjust the angle of the wind vane from time to time. For the last three days I have not changed any sails now. I have not dared to replace the storm jib with a larger sail, certainly not in the evening. Even so, I have been steadily making five knots and more, and who is complaining?
8 January 1992
The easy seas I have now, but the hot sun is still absent. After fixing the trolling generator (one of the wires transmitting the current had come loose), I splurged on fresh water, had a shave for the first time since leaving San Francisco, and had myself a sponge bath. Now that the seas are not as high, the leak has mysteriously stopped, and I am still not any wiser, where the water came in.
Yesterday I finally got fed up with the kerosene and re-installed the old alcohol burners. My lamp fuel (kerosene) will last me now for months. I have two gallons of alcohol, and that should last me easily all the way to Hawaii. I also have five pounds of propane, and I can always fall back on that, should I run short of alcohol. At least now I got a flame for cooking on demand, and do not have to worry about the soot on the cabin roof from the kerosene.
I had a record run yesterday, with 138 miles made good. By the time of writing this, I should have passed 30 degrees latitude. Ever so slowly it has been getting warmer, although there is still a long way to go. Between my progress south, and my body getting used to the cool temperatures, I do not feel unduly cold, when I take off my shirt during the day. However, when I sit down, I want my sweater again.
In the evening:
This is what sailing is meant to be! A gentle breeze from astern is pushing me along at five knots. The boat is rocking gently to and fro, like a baby's cradle. In between cloud patches the stars are blinking through. An idyllic night! All that is missing is another five to ten degree warmer temperatures. Earlier, as I was on the radio net, dolphins were accompanying me. I noticed them, as I was looking out of the cabin window, while cooking my rice with stir-fry pork and peppers.
12 January 1992, 25 degrees N - 133 degrees W
Each day now I have been making 100 to 120 miles, and steadily I am getting closer to my destination. I have been riding down the back of the northeast Pacific High, and am now on the southern side of it at the northern fringe of the trade wind belt. For days now I have been going 'wing-on-wing', the main sail on one side and the full jib on the other, with the wind straight behind me. More and more, the sun has been peeking out from behind the clouds, and it is actually becoming quite pleasant. Each day the temperature has been creeping up, and yesterday afternoon it hit 21 degrees Celsius, high enough to discard my long pants and change to shorts. I also had my second shave during this trip. Apropos temperatures, there is very little difference between day and night time temperatures here out at sea. At night it hardly goes down by more than 4 degrees from the daytime high.
By tomorrow I shall be halfway to Hilo, and it is all 'downhill' sailing from now on. The dreaded lows and the gales of the north are far behind me, and cannot touch me any more. And more and more, I shall see the beloved sun again, which dries out my boat and my clothes, charges my solar panels and warms my skin and my heart.
I solved the persistent problem of the leak. I realized finally, that as I was pumping the water out, it came in through the same opening again. In all but quiet seas, the outlet occasionally dipped below the water line, and since the hose ran down into the bilge on an even slope, that is where the scooped up water went. As I had some spare length in that hose, I lifted it up in a loop to well above the water line at one point, and now the water from the outside does not get past the air lock.
Whether I have solved my charging problems also, I am not quite sure. I did find out though, that both for the trolling generator, as well as for the solar panels the negative ground had not been connected up properly, thus preventing them from charging. Now I shall have to wait and see, how effective my repairs have been. I would not be surprised if there is some current leak somewhere in the electrical system of the boat, which discharges the batteries slowly. Or else the batteries are too old, to hold or accept a charge properly. I shall have them checked out in Hilo. However, I have almost 20 gallons of gasoline left, and can always run the engine each day, to beef up the power supply, to satisfy my modest needs. There should be no necessity, to run the water maker, and refrigeration I have done without so far now, and can do so longer.
My daily entertainment has been my twice daily check-in to the California-Hawaii ham radio net, a total of some two hours of chit-chat with the other members of the net, giving my position and relating other little happenings out here in my little world, and listening to the other fellows' daily adventures. And then I have been listening to music from tapes, and in the evening doing some reading, before settling down to uninterrupted night-long sleep. Who said sailors, especially single-handers, do not get enough sleep? I have not seen a single ship since one day out of San Francisco. And why should I stay up, and keep watch on this empty ocean?
Empty the ocean is and vast. One does not realize it, until one travels on it day in day out, always in the same direction. And all there is water, waves and sky and clouds and the heavenly orbs to give one company. Once in a while, and even here in mid ocean, there is a seagull swooping by low over the wave crests. How they can sustain themselves in flight for so long, a thousand miles from the nearest land? And also there is always the rhythmic movement of the boat, up and down, swinging left and right, as it plows steadily ever onward, unswerving and faithful as its namesake, the gentle and trusty water buffalo.
So what does my normal day look like? Around 07:30 local time I drag myself out of my warm cocoon (bed), to begin life through the hours of daylight, brush my teeth, take my position from the GPS, observe and record weather, course and speed, and gloat over the distance made good during the hours, when I was comfortably and safely at sleep. Then I start the engine, to let it run and charge the batteries for about one half to one hour, while I make myself breakfast. Breakfast finished, it is time for my morning schedule with the ham radio net. After that I get my daily weather map over the radio and do the dishes. After I print out the weather map, it is almost noon and time for my noon position and the gleeful accounting of how many miles made good over the preceding 24 hours. The weather map is analyzed, and my position marked on it, and on the other charts, and the daily decision made, whether to adjust my course.
Then lunch, and the afternoon is dedicated to repairs and improvements on the boat, enjoying the sunshine, if there is any, and generally puttering around the boat, or playing with my computer. As the sun nears the horizon, it is time to get ready for the evening, deciding on what to have for supper. With a glass of wine I get ready the ingredients, and participate again in the ham radio net as I cook. By the time the net signs off, I have finished eating, and am settled back in my bunk with a glass of liqueur in one hand, and the other in my box with nuts and chocolates. Then there are only the dishes left to do, to brush my teeth, and to crawl into my bunk with a book to read by the cozy light of the kerosene lamp. And so it goes day after day, and the wind and the self-steering gear is doing all the work.
17 January 1992, 23 degrees N - 143 degrees W
What a glorious day! Finally it feels like I am in the tropics. The sun shone brightly, there was a gentle breeze from astern and I was just coasting along at five knots, aiming straight for Hilo. Only another 700 miles left, and with averaging 110 miles per day I should be there in another six to seven days. The temperature today hit a record high for this trip, 25 degrees Celsius, and my butter is getting on the soft side.
Just now I have made my bed, and am ready to snuggle into it with a good book in my hands. Outside the full moon oversees the parade of trade wind clouds in their never ending march from horizon to horizon. This is what I have been waiting for, this is what sailing is all about, deeply satisfying, being in harmony with nature and the elements.
I have not seen a ship since the day after I left, and I do not expect to see one until I reach Hilo. However, I have not been alone, chatting three times a day over my ham radio. A few days ago I also joined the Pacific Maritime Mobile Net, which keeps watch over all ham radio equipped boats in the Pacific. The net controllers are located in Hawaii, California, Tahiti, Australia and New Zealand. All of them I can hear extremely well, as if they were in the same room in fact, and they copy me quite well also. This is the slow season, just now only two boats being on the roll call, so I get special attention from Fred my Hawaiian net controller. It is simply amazing what technology has wrought. And comforting too, to know that one can talk with somebody over thousands of miles away, and still be alone on the endless ocean.
No doubt, there are some other boats around too, who do not check into the ham nets on a regular basis. Just this evening a boat, 'Erica', called into the net with an emergency. Their skipper was down with, what they think is hepatitis, and they wanted some medical advice. They were on their way from Fanning Island to Honolulu, and still had some 600 miles to go. They were put into contact with the Coast Guard by the net controller. I do not know what happened then, as I did not change to the other frequency, they were then using.
21 January 1992, 21 degrees N - 150 degrees W
Almost within spitting distance of Hawaii, only another 280 miles, or less than three days to go. Two days ago a cold front reached me down here in the tropics. At four in the morning I had to get up and out on deck, to take down my Genoa, and fighting with it I lost both jib sheets. No serious handicap, as I can use the spinnaker sheets instead. The beautiful thing here in the tropics is, that one does not have to dress up against the cold, going out on a stormy night. Just Adam's costume is fine.
Yesterday I had flying fish for lunch. I found the poor fellow on deck in the morning. Consequently I trailed a line this afternoon, to get myself another seafood meal, but no luck.
These are peaceful days in the trade wind belt. The boat steers its steady course, the sun is warm, and life is pleasant and relaxing. At midday I am having temperatures in the 28 degree range now, and I have to start up and run my fridge for half an hour, to get a reasonably cold beer at lunch time.
23 January 1992, 21 degrees N - 153 degrees W
Just saw my first ship since almost three weeks ago, the day after leaving San Francisco. It was the cable ship 'Laut' on its way from Honolulu to the Panama Canal. Had a short chat over the VHF radio with the officer on watch.
Just shortly before writing this, another cold front had passed, and I am now on the other tack, again heading straight for Hilo with the wind having shifted to the northwest, with the passage of the front. Yesterday, and the night before, was marked by lot of calm weather, where I had made very little headway. But with the strong sunshine it was quite enjoyable nevertheless.
Two nights ago there were two minor crises. In the evening I started smelling some strange odour emanating from the forward cabin. On checking, it turned out, that the container for the treatment fluid for the holding tank (which I had not used, and which was not working anyway) was leaking, and the formaldehyde solution in it was all over the floor of the port forward storage bin. As the fluid and fumes are quite poisonous, it did not help that there was a dead calm outside. However, with frequent breathers topside, I was able to clean it all, up and chuck the leaking can overboard. It was impossible though, to sleep below, with the residual fumes still abundant, so I spread my sleeping bag on top of two cushions in the cockpit, and spent the night outside.
Shortly before sunrise I noticed that the wind vane self-steering gear seemed to be stuck in one position. As it was still too dark to see, what was the matter, I just took over the helm for the remaining hour of darkness. Later after breakfast, I had a closer look, and noticed that the bolt keeping the paddle in line with the rest of the mechanism was missing, and the paddle was free to turn unchecked. It must have worked itself loose, and fallen out. Luckily I had another bolt of the proper size to replace it, and soon we were again underway, as usual.
26 January 1992, Radio Bay, Hilo Harbour, Hawaii
This is how life is meant to be lived! A safe tropical anchorage, abundant sunshine, and your own little kingdom, a boat with all the conveniences, one might want. I arrived here yesterday afternoon, after exactly 24 days at sea. I should have seen the peaks of the two major volcanoes of the island of Hawaii from 150 miles out at sea, but there was too much haze. Finally on the evening of the 24th I saw the whole of Mauna Kea outlined against the setting sun, while only 50 miles offshore. As I was approaching the island, I got into what is locally called the 'Hilo High', an area of no or very light winds. The closer I got, the slower the boat moved. Finally, about 15 miles away, I felt I had enough fuel left, to motor the remainder of the way, without being stuck at the harbour entrance without any fuel. And at 14:00, exactly 24 days after my departure, my hook bit into the ground of Radio Bay, a quiet and sheltered anchorage at the eastern end of the commercial harbour here.
If one chooses to look west and south there are parked container trailers and warehouses, and behind them the bulk of Mauna Kea looms across the skyline. To the north there is the sea wall and the ocean and to the east a grove of casuarina trees with a little beach of coarse sand. It is a homely place. There are four other transient boats here, a French boat, 'Absence', recently arrived from Vancouver. When I said my last name was of French origin (Bellac), the skipper, Joel, knew it, and said it was a common name southwest of Paris, around the Atlantic coast provinces south of the Bretagne. He travels with his wife and small son. My other neighbour, Fernando, a singlehander on 'Alle Alle', said he had forgotten his nationality. He was born in Holland, had lived many years in Vancouver and in Australia and was travelling on a Canadian passport. He had recently arrived from Panama, having previously spent some delightful times along the Venezuelan coast. He was somewhat undecided where to go next, but after talking to me, decided to try the Philippines in the near future. Farther down is an Australian boat, 'Blind Faith', also a family with a small child. So I got good company and between cruising friends, the fellows on the ham radio nets and memories of Thailand (and Canada) I am content. I am still basically confined to the boat, as Customs are closed for the weekend, and I do not cherish the idea to pay $ 60.00 for overtime charges, to have an officer clear me before Monday (I do not have to report at Immigration, since I am coming from an American port). There is much to do on the boat anyway, to keep me busy, and I can go to shore, to use the washroom and toilet. It is amazing, how much the temperature changes, as you come into an anchorage from the open sea. It is cool here during the night and hot during the day. All the last two weeks, I had been living without hardly any clothes, but yesterday afternoon I got a bit of a sunburn. But soon I had rigged up my blue tarpaulin above the cockpit and my wind scoop over the front hatch, and I had my comfortable, cool, shady and breezy home. The solar panels are really performing in this type of environment, where one can position them for maximum exposure to the sun. I ran the fridge yesterday for well over an hour for ice cold beer, and had lots of juice left in the batteries for a long direct talk over the ham radio with Wolf in Toronto.
Just now I am homesick for Thailand, as I listen to beautiful Thai music on my tape player. Homesick I am in the worst way when I am reminded of that beautiful country and its beautiful people. I have never ever felt in the same way for any other place in the world, including the country of my birth. It seems to me, that in an earlier life, that is where my home was. This is truly where the deep, subconscious roots of my psyche seem to be anchored.
Now in harbour I can cook and eat, without having to worry about my plates and cups, and pots and pans sliding all over the place. My coffee cup or my glass of wine can stand on the table, without the fear of being spilled, and even without having my rubber net mat on the table, nor having the cup additionally secured in a plastic tray.
1 February 1992, Lahaina Roads, Maui, Hawaii
Almost a week has passed, since I wrote anything, and I have become attuned to Hawaiian life. Right now, my boat is gently rocking in the swell in the picturesque harbour of Lahaina, the old whaling capital of Maui. Right opposite me is one of the big beach hotels, and the dinner entertainment music from the hotel is drifting to me over the water. It is a coral rock anchorage, and I had quite a time, getting my anchors down, so that they will grip securely, and the lines not tangle themselves up and chafe through on the sharp coral. Hawaiian waters are a far cry from the beautiful anchorages, I remember from the Bahamas , where there were innumerable beaches and good sand holding ground in front of them. There, one just had to throw the Danforth anchor overboard and could forget about it.
The Hawaiian islands are all volcanic and quite young, geologically speaking. I am somewhat disappointed in the general lack of the lush tropical vegetation, that I had expected. Instead, on the leeward side there are vast black and bare lava mountain sides with hardly a blade of grass on them. Other areas have only low scrub. Only on the windward sides is there any semblance of what I had expected, and that side is generally inhospitable for boats. There is a general lack of bays and sheltered anchorages, and the land drops off very steeply into the sea. Whatever sea bottom there is within reach of my anchor lines, is infested with coral and lava rock. So the anchorages are tenuous at best. At Radio Bay there was only flat lava rock with a thin covering of mud, and the day before I left, one of my anchors had dragged, and I got into the bad books of one of my neighbours, a cantankerous American from Alaska, who claimed, that my boat came too close to his.
That experience gave me added impetus, to leave for places farther west. I had seen the island, and the shopping there was quite limited. The day before, I had rented a car and driven across to the Kona side to visit Craig, the net controller of the evening session of the California-Hawaii net, with whom I had talked so often over the radio during the preceding weeks. The Kona side is the 'tourist' side of the island, where all the big hotels are and all the other trappings, that the jet traveller with very limited time off, and a pocket full of money, expects. Not my cup of tea! The old town of Hilo, with its traditional buildings, sleepy atmosphere and coconut palms and banyan trees is more to my liking.
So after another cold front had just passed, I set out yesterday noon with favourable and brisk winds along the north coast of the 'Big Island' and then across the Alenuihaha Channel to Maui. I had been cautioned earlier about the general lack of wind along the north coast and about the strong winds in the channel, where the winds collect and squeeze through the high volcanoes on either side. My actual experience was brisk 25 knot winds all the way through. The wind, that was supposed to get stronger in the channel, continued at the same rate, because of the falling night and of the general diminishing of the winds ahead of just another approaching cold front. So as I arrived on the Maui side, the winds had died altogether, and I had to motor the remaining 20 miles to Lahaina.
As I was navigating along the darkening coast, and then during the moonless black night across the channel, the GPS performed sterling service. At every moment in time, I could plot my exact position on the chart, and as I was approaching the high, unlit and precipitous coast of Maui, I knew exactly, how far I was from shore. A very comforting feeling, when one does not have to rely on the infrequent, sometimes obscured, and sometimes inoperational, navigational lights alone. With the strong winds, I was early, and had to heave to for well over an hour at the entrance to the relatively narrow Alakeiki Channel between Maui and the small island of Kahoolawe. There, at the tiny islet of Molokini, I had planned to anchor for the day and the coming night, and meet Fernando on 'Alle Alle', who was going to follow me out from Radio Bay.
I met Fernando alright, as I was just getting underway again. As the sun rose, he was coming in under his dark brown sails. As I did not want to waste time beating against the almost non-existent northwest wind, I motored on, after exchanging a few words with him, to Molokini which turned out to be a rather disappointing semicircle of bare rock, half of a submerged rim of a volcanic crater. There was no beach nor any landing place of any kind, and the anchorage was full of tour boats with gawking tourists from the big hotels across from the Maui shore. I quickly left and carried on to Lahaina. Fernando must have stayed there, to search for the 'many birds' that were supposed to be there, of which I had seen neither feather nor tail. What I did see though, was a number of spouts from quite a few whales, which are cruising around here. To watch these whales, the tour boats bring out some bored tourists from the hotels.
At least one of these tourists, whom I met as I rowed to shore here, seemed to be bored, since he said 'it must be nice, to be able to do something'. Whether this pertained to my rowing or something else, I do not know, nor did I have time to listen to any elaborations, since I had to negotiate the surf in front of the hotel beach. The town here is the typical tourist trap. Nicely made up for sure, but full of restaurants and souvenir shops, and crowded with loud, Hawaiian shirt clad, money spending jet setters, and within the hour I had seen everything, that I wanted to see. The only money I did spend was $ 1.85 for a simple ice cream. As everywhere in Hawaii, everything is very expensive here, some 30% more so than in California, which is expensive enough. True, the local indigenous women are quite beautiful, but many of the men have been adversely affected by the American way of life (McDonald's), sporting spare tires around their waists. The behaviour of the youth has also not improved with the affects of American pop culture, as I was to find out, when I got back to the dinghy, which I had left tied up on the beach. Children had untied it, and were playing with it, careless of any damage, they might cause to the fragile craft. In this free spending tourist atmosphere, they just do not understand, that such a $ 700 investment (used price) has to be handled carefully, if one expects to have it last any amount of time.
3 February 1992, Lahaina
I decided to stay another day, and let the wind shift around to the northeast. Another cold front was passing through here yesterday evening with relatively strong northerly winds. I did not cherish the idea, of crossing the two channels between here and Oahu in this kind of weather. With the wind from the northeast, it would be more from behind than from the front, and the crossings would be less troublesome. Now at noon, the wind has all but died down. But then, I am in the lee of the island, and it may be blowing the 30 knots in the channels, the weather reporter has been talking about.
There has been an abnormal high number of cold fronts passing through here lately. But this is an 'El Nino' year, and anything can be expected. For the last few days, even a hurricane has been churning up the waters south of here. A hurricane in February? However, there was no mention of it in today's weather report. Perhaps it has been degraded to a tropical storm, and is no longer worth mentioning on the local weather report.
11 February 1992, 130 miles out from Honolulu
Finally I am on my way again, proceeding steadily west. I left Honolulu yesterday at 12:30, just after noon, and once I got away from the lee of the island, a couple of hours out, regained the steady trade winds, which will hopefully carry me all the way now to my destination. My first day's noon-to-noon progress was 125 miles, and the second day's should be better, as I got another half hour, from noon to noon, and all of that in the open ocean. There is a weak Low lingering just northwest of here, which is giving me cloudy skies and the odd sprinkle of rain, but wind wise it should not present me with any problems. In a couple of days it will be behind me, and again I shall have the warming sunshine of the tropics.
I shall have to get used again to the never-ending movement of the boat. Having forever to look for and to grab a handhold, as I move around, especially if I carry something spillable in the other hand. One tends to dislearn this capacity, when being tied up at a dock or at anchor. It is very important, to move carefully around, as a nasty injury can be sustained, if one lurches against a sharp object after losing balance during an unexpected movement in the constant rolling of the boat. Pots have to be tied down again on the stove, and dishes, cups and eating utensils secured on the table, so that they do not upset and spill their contents, where one does not want them. I have these handy rubber net mats on the table and other surfaces. Nothing slides on them, no matter how much the boat rolls, but cups do tip over and the contents of dishes slide off them.
Last night was my last chance of watching TV on my little pocket set, as I was still within a 100 miles of Honolulu, and I made use of it to the fullest. Now for the next month, my only entertainment will be books, the short wave radio and my tape player. Even FM radio does not reach that far.
I should have a better power supply now, than on the first leg of the trip. I bought two new batteries, and there will be abundant sunshine to re-charge them, so I do not have to waste gasoline, to run the engine. I had suspected the old batteries, not to keep a charge. Then I checked out their age from the original receipts of their purchase, and found out, that they were three years old. This is about the time period, after which that type of battery should be replaced anyway, so I bit the bullet and bought new ones.
The time, I was anchored at Lahaina, seemed to last forever. The second day I was ready to leave, but the weather did not co-operate. There were gale warnings announced for the channels between the islands for days on end, and I did not really feel like exposing myself to 40 knot plus winds on a night crossing, when I could be safely anchored. Finally it got to the point, that I considered to stock up with supplies right there, and give Honolulu a pass. Then, on the last day, I had given myself, the winds moderated, and I was able to carry out my original plan.
Apart from being able to meet two of the hams on the California-Hawaii net, Hank and Luke, I would not have missed much, except, that I was able to replace the batteries, and have them well charged from shore power. The world famous Waikiki Beach was a sore disappointment. A relatively narrow strip of sand, often intermixed with coral pebbles, in front of multi-story hotels, and crowded with unattractive people. It is no more than that. I walked along it once, and had seen everything, I had wanted to see, a glorified Miami Beach. So now, America is behind me, and apart from passing through the outpost of American pop culture of Guam, from now on I shall be in the fascinating Orient.
13 February 1992, 20 miles southwest of Nawiliwili, Kauai
Heading back to Hawaii! The reason: a broken mainsail boom. It happened the evening of 11 February, some 150 miles on my way out of Honolulu. The wind had been freshening all day long from an approaching Low to the northwest. That Low had not looked like much on my weather chart, which I had received in the morning, and I did not worry overly about it. After the evening radio net was finished, it was blowing in the mid to high twenties, and I was barrelling along at over 6 knots with the boomed out full mainsail, and the wind from straight astern.
In hindsight, I should have put in a reef or tied a preventer line from the tip of the boom forward. Suddenly, I heard a loud crack, and on looking out of the cabin, I saw he damage. It seems the mainsail had tried to jibe, and the boom vang prevented the entire boom from coming across. However, since the boom vang was attached only at the forward third of the boom, and the force was too much, and perhaps there was a weak spot there, the boom broke at this point, leaving the back two thirds of the sail flapping. So much for my hoped for record run the next day!
I tied up the sail, and proceeded to spend the rest of the night lying ahull, and later, hand steering, running under bare poles before the wind. Then I started thinking about what to do. I felt I was too far along the way, to be able to return, so set my mind to continue a least as far as Johnston Island (500 miles ahead) or Wake (1900 miles) on jib sails alone. With the wind behind me all the way, this should present no problem. At either of these places (U.S. defense bases ) I should be able to effect repairs to the boom, and/or have a new boom air freighted out.
I intimated that much on next morning's session of the California-Hawaii net, but promptly got shot down 'No, no' by the net controller, because of the commercial aspect of my tentative request (buying and sending out a new boom, any commercial traffic is strictly forbidden on ham radio). The suggestion was made, why do I not go to Kauai, the most westerly of the Hawaiian islands instead, to effect repairs? After consulting my charts and the wind forecasts for the next day, I figured I could do just that with foresail alone and/or engine, as the course would be on a beam reach, because of the forecasted shift in the wind.
So two days later, here I am, only some three hours out of Nawiliwili, the major harbour of Kauai. What is more galling, is that I am going to loose a least a week in time through this excursion. After inspection of the broken boom, it seems it can easily be repaired with a round piece of wood inserted into it, and extending two feet either side of the break. The boom will be the stronger for it. Another problem is, that my computer gave up its ghost too. Probably a splash of seawater, which penetrated onto the video section of the mother board. Will I be able to get a reasonably priced replacement in the short time in port? Mind you, I am not unhappy about it, since I had wanted to replace it anyway. Two of he keys had not been operable, and the cable, connecting the keyboard, had been giving me never-ending trouble.
It will be good in port though. That Low is close by now, the winds have kept on being strong, and just now I am making heavy weather of it with 30 knot winds on a beam reach. The net controller has put me on a 'suspense list' with the coast guard, so they can assist me, if I need it. They suggested coming out to where I was, but I strictly refused. I am not above, though, in letting them guide me into harbour, should I arrive there in the dark, because I do not relish the idea of spending another night out here in these seas. However, there does not seem to be any need for it, as the wind is favourable, and the remaining distance such, that I can easily reach it in daylight.
Later, anchored in Nawiliwili Bay
I had to stop writing earlier, because wind and waves were increasing, and it became impossible, to do any writing in the pitching boat. Foam started blowing off the crests of the waves, indicating gale force winds, and I was on a beam reach with my working jib and the engine on. It became a veritable roller coaster ride, and often seas broke over the boat, and some water entered the cabin. This is the time, when you start saying to yourself 'what am I doing out here?'. The coast guard called me on the radio, and wanted to know, where I was, and how I was doing. Would I consider going into Port Allen instead. Out on the east coast of Kauai there were strong winds, and small boats were getting into trouble. I told them, I thought with the shifting wind, Port Allen would be too exposed, and anyway the sailing directions had mentioned, that the small boat basin there had recently been destroyed by a hurricane. They checked with the Kauai people, and agreed with my conclusion.
Next thing, there was a hissing noise in the engine compartment. Was the extended running making the engine too hot, and was she blowing a gasket? I quickly shut it off and opened the cover. Everything seemed to be in order, the oil level was normal, but I also noticed the automatic fire extinguisher, which, the label said, activated at a certain temperature. Perhaps it had gone off. After a while I tried to start the engine again, but there was no reaction, when I pushed the starter button. I remembered that the button was defective, and in the pitching boat crawled into the lazarette, touched a screwdriver across the two contacts at the back of the panel, and it promptly started. I had left the engine cover off, to give it some air, and it ran satisfactorily for the remainder of the day, so my original conclusion must have been correct. It is a rather enclosed space, where the engine sits, and it becomes quite hot in there for lack of ventilation, unless the cover is off.
To top off the high wind and seas, it started pouring rain from frequent squalls, reducing visibility greatly. Finally only four miles off, I was able to make out the mountainous cloud enshrouded coast of the island. It was a beautiful sight. I wished I had some other person with me, to take video footage, because I myself was to busy handling the boat, to deal with that. This is the first of the Hawaiian islands, which I really like. There are rugged mountains, much as I imagine the Marquesas to be, there is lush and green vegetation, because of the frequent rainfall here.
Once I was at the harbour entrance, I had to wait, to let one of these squalls pass, so that I could see, where I was going. I did not have any chart of the island, as I had not intended to come here, only a sketch of the harbour in the book 'Landfalls in Paradise', a sort of cruising guide of the Pacific islands, and the verbal description of the coast line in the sailing directions. From the latter I had made myself some sort of chart, accurate to some two miles, so that I could use my GPS, to guide me there, without having actually to see the coast in these squalls.
After the squall had passed I went in. I had to cross some monstrous seas in the shoaling waters (well up to twenty feet high), but 'Caraboi' behaved herself well, and soon I was in the sheltered waters behind the breakwater, ready to anchor in this spectacularly scenic bay. Since then it has been raining off and on, sometimes bordering on a deluge. I took advantage of it and took my bath and shampoo in the cockpit with the freely supplied water from the heavens. Tonight I am ready for a night of undisturbed sleep on a quiet boat, and without having to get up frequently for a lookout for other ships. I feel, I earned some laurels today in these adverse conditions, certainly I learned a great deal more about handling this boat.
16 February 1992, Nawiliwili Harbour
I have now transferred to a slip in the small craft harbour, here I have electricity and water. I am well on my way getting ready to leave again. I have ordered a new computer by mail order, which should arrive the day after tomorrow. I have obtained a piece of wood, to insert into the broken portion of the boom. Being the weekend, I have been unable to find somebody, to cut it down for me to the right size. That will be done tomorrow. I have cleaned up the two pieces of the boom already for being joined again. Meanwhile today, I was busy doing all kinds of other things on the boat, which had become necessary. For example I discovered that most of my fresh water had drained from the tanks into the bilge. It had to do with a detached intake pipe for the flexible tank, and a leak in the seal of the freshwater pump. Both of these items were fixed, as well as a number of electrical connections. So now I am ready to finish fixing the boom, do some final grocery shopping, and go. All in all this will have cost me nine days delay and about $ 800 in money. But I have gained a lot of experience, going through this, and I am not unhappy about it.
Meanwhile, I have met Jack Joyce, a local ham, who often checks into the Hawaii-California net. He is 83 years old, a widower, and lives some 13 miles away, together with his dog. He is helping me, providing transportation with his old car, to get my boom fixed. He also is a sailor, and has his 24 foot Columbia tied up only four slips away on the same dock.
Everybody else here has been quite helpful, and as usual, the pleasing landscape is reflected in the character of the people. It is a very nice island, and except for the prices, I would not mind spending my retired life at such a spot. However, I am bound for better places. Here in the off beat places of Hawaii one gets a whiff of the Orient with the beautiful Polynesian faces and pleasing accents, their easy going way of life, and one can dream of the better things to come.
22 February 1992, 21 degrees N - 159 degrees W
Back out at sea at last! However I am not making much headway in the direction, I wish to go. I left the dock on the evening of the 19th, since everything was, at last, fixed. Even the primary water tank, which had also developed a leak, and which, after fixing the other leaks, I had tried to plug repeatedly without success. The material is polyethylene, and cannot be glued with either contact cement, 'crazy glue', or fiberglass. I tried to melt the material with my soldering iron, to make it mend, but that seemed to make it worse. Finally I fell back on covering it up with silicone sealer and duct tape, and that seemed to work. How long it will hold, remains to be seen. If I loose all the water in that tank, that will not be a serious matter, as I carry just enough water for the trip in all the other containers. And then I always have the water maker, if I can spare enough power to run it.
Replacing the computer was another story. After three days of waiting, it still had not arrived from the mail order house in New York. Telephoning them produced little satisfaction. Finally, I got to talk to a girl who looked my file up in the computer, but was unable to find anything. At least, there was no charge on my VISA card in her records. So I told her, 'Just cancel the whole thing'. My order was on the understanding of prompt shipment on Monday, and that obviously had not happened, as they were unable to produce a waybill number. What they did give me at first, was an account number, which obviously was a ruse, just to make me shut up for a while. I bit the bullet then, going to RADIOSHACK, and buying a new laptop computer there, and spending double than what I had originally intended. However this is a much better machine, full backlit screen, 20 megabyte hard disk, and has a much faster clock speed. Now I do not have to work with floppy disks any more, and all my files and programs occupy less than half the storage space on the hard disk.