Where to begin...
I see I've been remiss in updating this blog on my whereabouts since we were considering sailing to the Samoan Islands. It's for the very same reason I return from my most awesome adventures with only 2 or 3 pictures in my camera, just living too much in the moment.
08-04-09 Update
While waiting for the weather to turn, Dad and I got into the rhythm of going on 4-5 hour day sailing trips out and back from our slip here in Keehi Marina and then spending the next two days replacing parts, mapping and reworking various systems and basically mending everything we broke or found to not be in peak working condition. Our mini routine of repair begins with a vague or no idea what is wrong with the problem, information gathering on our own, tracking down an expert and then once properly educated, we work together to knock it out. The past few weeks has been a whirlwind of great sailing, wrenching on everything you can imagine would be on a boat (and some you wouldn't) and having a great time hanging out with Dad who has become as much of a friend as a father.
Eventually, we just ran out of our window to make the passage to New Zealand and changed plans to do some extended sailing around the Hawaiian Islands. (I know... life is tough and sometimes you just have to make lemonade out of lemons :o)
[Jesse at the Wheel]
[Sunset, heading back into Honolulu]
Overnight Passage #1
After our initial battery of preparations to sail and sleuthing down our fuel issues, our passage captain/mentor, Greg Stefanoff agreed to join us on our first attempt at a multi-day trip to Lena'i, Maui, Molokai and back here to Honolulu, Oahu. I spent around 5 hours on the Wednesday of our departure, beneath the boat hooked up to Greg's jury rigged air compressor/huka, scrubbing FairChild's underbelly of slime and marine vegetation. It was the closest I've ever come to scuba diving and even though it was pretty hard work, it was very satisfying to know we'd go much faster with the nice clean hull.
The first leg of the trip was to take 8-12 hours and we left at night so we would arrive and be able to anchor in daylight. Leaving Honolulu around 7 PM, we were quickly beating to weather (sailing upwind) in 6-7 ft seas with 25 knot winds. Around 9PM we drew straws to see who was feeling good for the first official watch. Dad and Greg were feeling fresh so I ventured below to snooze for a few hours. Back in the aft cabin lying flat on my stomach, I planted my feet securely against the starboard wall and wrapped my arm around the aft edge of the bed to keep from being launched forward into the floor. It was a wild ride with the boat heeled over 20-25 degrees and rolling up and down and every which way. I slept about as well as a person does while spending a windy night up in a tree after having fled from a hungry alligator who is still waiting down below. I must have dozed off at some point because I awoke to Dad hurling his lunch in the bathroom. He was experiencing a big dose of sea sickness for the first time in his life. Between yerts, he indicated that Greg was getting tired and that I was up for watch. I climbed up into the cockpit and received my marching orders from Greg. Apparently the auto-pilot had unexpectantly disengaged a few times already so I was to keep a close eye on our course and carefully scan around the horizon for lights of other boats every 10-15 minutes. Once briefed, Greg lay down for a nap on one of the cockpit benches. At this pointSince the giant mariners compass and the RayMarine GPS never completely agreed on our course, my job felt similar to trying to determine the time at DoctorDirectory by triangulating between my PC, desk phone and cell phone. It was hard to believe how big the waves were out there but after a half hour or so, I settled into the rhythm of scanning for traffic and monitoring our instruments. With the lights of Honolulu far behind and a new moon above, the night sky was clearer than I've ever seen it. The Milky way extended from horizon to horizon and the only way I could think to describe it is that there were stars between stars between stars... Sometime around 1:30 AM the wind became erratic and squirrelly, dropping off to 5 knots and at times, circling all the way around the compass. Eventually it died off and we slowed down so much we lost steerage and the auto-pilot just gave up trying. I woke Greg and after trying a few sail adjustments, he decided we were in the lee of the Island, Lena'i and it was time to fire up the motor and make way under the ole' iron sail.
After 10 minutes of motoring, the diesel engine began to sputter and gag as if it were being starved of fuel and eventually died. I went below and switched us over to the secondary fuel line with our backup fuel filter and still the engine wouldn't start. With a brief discussion about us becoming a bobber out on the still pretty feisty seas, Greg decided rightly so to turn us around and blow back to Oahu. After getting the boat trimmed for downwind sailing, he handed back over the helm and tried to get back to sleep. After a few minutes the heaving motion of the boat got to him and he, for the first time in 30 years of sailing, began feeling the effects of sea sickness. As tired as he was, he spent most of the balance of the trip sitting on a cooler in the center of the back of the boat with his face in the breeze trying to get his stomach to cooperate. We inched along with the still uncooperative 5-6 knot winds for a half hour or so but eventually got back into some respectable wind. When Dad came up, feeling much better, around 4:30 AM he thought we were pulling his leg about having turned around. He had definitely noticed the change in pace from bashing into waves headed upwind to rolling over them when sailing away from it but just thought we had tacked to a new heading. He graciously relieved me from duty. I stayed up with him until sunrise and sighting Diamond Head Crator just North of Honolulu and then lay down on a cockpit side bench for a quick nap. I was so tired that the stiff seat pad felt like a feather bed and I was out in seconds. I woke to Greg and Dad musing about why the engine wouldn't start and Greg mentioned the possibility of using a small manual priming pump on the diesel to force fuel through the lines. Closing in on Keehi Marina, we made one last attempt to get our engine started and after pumping that little pump 200 times with my fingers, the engine rumbled to life. We immediately turned it off since we didn't know how long the good fortune would last. This was all important since our boat slip is deep inside the marina and would require a masterful hand and a ton of luck to get this 25,000lb lady in there under sail without swapping paint or worse with other boats. We were ultimately able to use the engine to motor for the final few minutes of our trip and got into our slip with minimal dock "rubbing". With everyone dreary from the long journey, we put the boat to bed (fresh water rinse and covers on) and all crashed in our various bunks until mid-day.
Although Greg had been a driving force on us heading out on this trip, I would later learn that a few months earlier he, his girlfriend and Dad had attempted the same trip by day and been turned back when the main engine belt broke, disabling the engine. Emotionally, I think he was pretty frustrated with a second failed attempt and even though he has been a great help and advisor to us in the following weeks, he hasn't set foot on the boat or been keen on the idea of another repeat attempt, saying "You guys know what to do now so you don't need me along to slow you down".
I think to everyone at the Marina's pleasant surprise, that's exactly what we've done and Dad and I have formed a great partnership, repairing the boat and sailing as a tandem team ever since. The "street cred" we've earned around here by continuing to get out there on our own has really paid dividends as our neighbors have bent over backwards to help us out when we run into problems. We're finding ourselves enveloped in a brotherhood of boat owners/operators who all knowingly knod and share stories about their trials of a similar flavor with each challenge we face.
[End of another successful day on the water]
I hope everyone back home is having a great Summer and I sincerely look forward to seeing you in the rapidly approaching future :o)
Aloha,
-Jesse
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