THE STORY OF THE BLACK HAND CREW

Play Some Sailing Music While Reading

Start the music by clicking on the button below that has an arrowhead facing to your right. The music will play continuously until you stop it by clicking the small white square button. This MIDI file and many more can be found at the web site "contemplator.com".

The melody is titled "A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea" -- To see the lyrics

Sequenced By Lesley Nelson-Burns

You might want to read a letter that was published in Latitude 38, 6 months after this trip, to get a perspective on this narrative --

Saturday, May 31, 1997

What was, at the beginning, to be a one week sailing cruise from Seattle to San Francisco turned out to be two weeks. The why and how is the story! This was something that I have wanted to do ever since I started sailing 38 years ago. My experience has always been sailing and racing small boats in harbors, bays and lakes. The largest boat I ever sailed, or crewed, was 35 feet. The chance to help John Perrault (the owner of the C & C 43 footer, Pretty Woman) bring his boat from Seattle to San Francisco, at my age (64), was the “chance of a lifetime.”

Actually, the trip started for John and me on Saturday, May 31 when we flew up to Seattle, Washington from Sacramento, California and arrived there about 10:30 A.M.. The third member of the crew, Stan Sowa, will arrive from Sacramento on Sunday. We rented a car, before leaving the airport, for “wheels” to do whatever had to be done. When we arrived at the marina in Lake Union I got my first look at the “Pretty Woman” and it is a beautiful boat. The hull is painted red — it’s long and sleek and looks every inch the ocean racer it was originally built to be. (PICTURE)

Saturday was spent doing a lot of miscellaneous things. The first job was washing down the boat to get the grime off from not being sailed for a long time. Shortly before noon a friend of John’s showed up who has electronic skills. He and John worked on the VHF set as it was not receiving clearly and checked out the radar A small part was needed for the VHF so we purchased it and then the three of us went to lunch. After lunch the part was installed, the VHF worked better and John’s friend departed. The afternoon was spent stowing things, finding things that had been stowed months ago and looking for the charts that John had used getting to Seattle. There are so many places to put things in the boat that John was not able to find some key charts. As the “Armchair Sailor”, a well known nautical stop for books and charts, was just a mile away on the west side of Lake Union, we went shopping for the additional charts we needed. Back at the boat, we inventoried sails and stored those we expected to use, where we could find them. Because John knew there was an exhaust leak casting a gray pall in the back of the boat beneath the cockpit, we pulled out all the gear stowed below: spare winches, auxiliary fuel tanks, fenders, spare anchor and chain, life raft, power cords, man overboard gear, emergency tiller, buckets, etc. Since an inspection was not able to pinpoint the exhaust leak source, and expecting to motor little and sail a lot, John decided to re-stow the gear and leave as scheduled. At dinner time we went to a small beer and sandwich place called the Red Door which was located in Freemont, just north of the locks we would be transiting the next day. For community residents, the Red Door is the “center of the universe”! Afterwards we drove over a floating bridge that crosses Lake Washington on Seattle’s east side. As we crossed over the bridge we had a limited view of the new home site of Bill Gates. We were going to the arty community of Kirkland (Washington’s Sausalito) where we did our grocery shopping for the next week of sailing. By the time we were through with the day’s chores it was about 11:00 P.M. and I was whipped! The bunk in the boat felt great.

Sunday, June 1, 1997

I woke up when the sun appeared — about 5:30 A.M.. After taking a shower in the marina facilities, I went for a walk. I guess I was excited and could not sleep as I generally do not wake up at daybreak when I have the chance to sleep in. By the time I got back from my walk, John was about ready to get up. The main event of the morning was to drive back out to the airport and pick up Stan. Stan and John are old friends from their Air Force days. They were both navigators in the 552nd Wing (Airborne Early Warning and Control) in Sacramento. Strangely enough I was a navigator in the same wing but about 15 years earlier. We had to pick up some extra diesel fuel and return the rented car by 11:30 A.M. to keep from paying for a second day. We got a lift from the car rental agency and since it was lunchtime we had the driver drop us off at a restaurant that was about four blocks from the marina. Unfortunately it was raining so we had the not-so-unique Seattle experience of a rainy walk/jog back to the boat. Shortly after that the sun came out and about 1:30 P.M. we left the Lake Union Marina and the trip began!

The first event was getting through the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks and out to Puget Sound. On the way to the Locks we went through a Draw Bridge (PICTURE) When we got to the Locks there were quite a few boats ahead of us and it took just over an hour and a half to lock through. (PICTURE). While we were waiting the people from a boat that tied up right behind us came over to John and asked him if he was from Rhode Island. The stern of the boat indicates that “Pretty Woman” is from Point Judith, R. I. The people were from Rhode Island and since both John and Stan are from that area they had a “small world” conversation while we were waiting.

After getting through the locks we raised sail and started up Puget Sound. Our first destination was Victoria, B. C. We all took turns on the helm and Stan was really intrigued with this sailing “thing.” It was a very understandable feeling as the weather was fairly good — partially overcast with the sun coming through now and then with intermittent light rain showers. We were sailing up Puget Sound with Whidby Island to starboard and the panorama of a calm sea, partly cloudy sky and deep green land masses were truly beautiful. This was Stan’s first time on a sailboat and he kept saying “This is the life!” I had to agree wholeheartedly but in the back of my mind there was the unsaid comment “Just wait until we get around Cape Flattery and into the open ocean — it might be a little different!”

We sailed on into the evening and gradually night fell. It was not long before we started seeing the lights of Victoria on the horizon. To make a long story a bit shorter, we realized after a few hours of sailing toward a red, flashing light that the light was not the entry to Victoria Harbor and we had to turn and run North. We did that and gradually began to see more detail — lots of lights and a generally confusing picture. Finally we identified a large green flashing buoy which gave us a general reference on our chart. We decided on a heading and gradually came up to a harbor entrance marked on each side with bright red flashing lights. We sailed in and after a short tour of the harbor realized we were in a military area. We later figured out this was Esquimalt Harbor. Since this, obviously, was not the right place we headed out and started looking again. After checking the chart once more, we realized that Victoria Harbor was just North East of where we were and the next place we could turn into. So, we stayed close in, found the right harbor entrance and ended up in a marina tied up right in front of the Empress Hotel. The trip up the harbor was spectacular with all of the lights, buildings, boats, ships, etc. and it was a real relief to know that we were where we should be -- even if it was about 2:00 in the morning.

Monday, June 2, 1997

We awakened to a beautiful, warm, sunny day. (PICTURE) After hanging out wet clothes and towels to dry from the previous day’s sail, we proceeded to check out some of the sights in downtown Victoria. We looked over the Empress Hotel and then found a place for breakfast. I had eggs benedict and was that ever good! After breakfast Stan and John did some more walking and looking while I went back to the boat. I was pretty tired, my legs just could not take any more walking and my shoulders were really sore. I have to admit that, if the aches and pains persisted, the trip looked like it might become a physical ordeal at that point. There was a nagging worry underlying my conscious thoughts that maybe I had bitten off more than I would be able to chew. Some “Mineral Ice” on my legs and shoulders relieved the soreness, however, and I pushed the concerns to the back of my mind.

In the afternoon, about 3:00 P.M., we decided to continue on. We topped up on diesel fuel on the way out and made our way into the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The winds were easy, the sea was calm and the scenery, if anything, was even more spectacular than yesterday. Stan was still enthralled with the experience and so was I! As we sailed along we could see the boats going back and forth, taking people out into the Strait to look at Orcas. We saw quite a few Orcas in the distance, while sailing down the Strait and one time an Orca surfaced less than a hundred yards off our starboard side while I was steering. Gradually night fell and we could see, far off in the distance, the Cape Flattery light. We decided to have dinner and Stan cooked up some really good spaghetti. The spaghetti was to appear later!

Tuesday, June 3, 1997

We came up to the Cape shortly after midnight and when we made the turn south, the boat traffic got very busy. Stan was on the radar, calling tracks to John at the helm. I was in the cockpit with John trying to interpret the running lights we were seeing as they related to what Stan saw on the radar. Gradually we worked our way out of the “traffic” and (we thought) started the long trip south. However, it turned out much different from expected. I hit the sack in the cabin, at John’s suggestion, and John and Stan had the watch.

A few hours later — it was about dawn or shortly after, I think, I woke up to heavy winds and a fairly high sea. We were beating into the wind and that is always noisy and bumpy. In this case it was that — in spades! I lay there half awake being tossed right and left and holding on with my right hand so I would not land on the cabin floor. I had not put up the side boards since I was not expecting anything like this. As I lay there, I started getting queasy. It did not take a long time before John, at the helm, saw me coming out of the cabin with no foul weather gear on. He told me later his thought was, “What is Pelz doing coming out here that way, in this kind of weather?” He soon found out! I crawled over to the lee rail and proceeded to do what you have to do when you get really sea sick. That was when last night’s spaghetti showed up again. The rail was almost in the water and here I was with my face a few inches above the waves in a condition I hate to even think about. My circumstances triggered Stan and all of a sudden I had a companion on the lee rail. John was on the helm and was as sick as Stan and me and had been for some time before I made my appearance but he still managed to steer. In my opinion it takes a lot of character to feel as bad as John did and still do a great job of manning the helm. It turned out that we were in gale conditions of 30 to 35 knot winds with 10 to 15 foot waves and the wind coming out of the South.

During the time I was asleep the main sail got a rip in it right below the third reef point. John and Stan got the main reefed down to keep the rip from getting bigger. The actual time periods are a bit hazy, in retrospect, as I try to recall that day. All I remember for a while, is nausea, weakness, throwing up and general misery. After a bit, I managed to get in my foul weather gear. To do that I had to go below again, which I had absolutely no desire to do as the nausea is multiplied when you are in the cabin. John needed a break and so I took a turn at the wheel. Much to my surprise, my nausea abated considerably and I started feeling better. As the day wore on and we tacked South, it became obvious that we were not making much headway. About 2:00 or 3:00 in the afternoon Stan took a Loran fix as we tacked away from shore. We sailed for about an hour, Stan got a second fix as we tacked back again and then took a third fix at the end of the second hour. We had gone a big two miles from the first fix after two hours of hard, miserable sailing so the decision was made to turn around and head back into the strait. We were about 20 miles south of Cape Flattery when we turned around, after sailing most of the night and a good part of the day. The trip back into the strait and around the “corner” to our destination of Neah Bay was actually fun, for me. I was on the helm most of the time and with the winds on our beam or stern quarter the sailing was great. In fact, Stan told me after we got into Neah Bay that he was sitting there in the cockpit watching me on the helm. I had a big grin on my face and, as he put it, he thought, “Those guys actually like to do this!”

Even if I did enjoy the time on the helm as we made our way back into the strait, it was a great feeling to sail into the Neah Bay marina and tie up. I was tired and solid land felt good! Each of us made a point of calling home to let everyone know that we were delayed a bit and not to worry. We had dinner, got a hot shower and then hit the sack early.

Wednesday, June 4, 1997

The first thing to be done this morning was get the mainsail rip repaired. While, somewhere on board there was a needle and waxed thread it wasn’t to be found. We all walked down to a local general store where we bought some dental floss and the heaviest needles we could find. John and Stan started work on the torn sail and after a couple of broken needles the patch was “mint”.

Neah Bay is part of an Indian reservation on the Olympic peninsula and there was not much there other than a couple of stores and some homes. While we were there, we saw two sea lions scrounging fish parts from the people that were cleaning fish they caught. There were also two eagles competing with the gulls and seals for whatever they could steal. I thought that was sort of an undignified role for our “national emblem”.

We left the marina in the late afternoon, and before leaving we topped off our fuel tanks at the fuel dock. While Stan and I were handling the dock lines, as we tied up, I lost my balance somehow and ended up in the water. All I could think of as I went under was that there was a big heavy boat hull behind me and a dock in front and I did not want the two to come together while I was in the water between them. I surfaced and pulled myself up on the dock in record time. As we sailed around Cape Flattery, this time in the early evening before it got dark, there was little or no boat traffic and we continued south on into the night. The winds were light and from the South so we had to motor, which was a pleasant contrast to the last time we started South.

Thursday, June 5, 1997

The winds are still very light and we have to use the motor. The exhaust leak seems to be getting worse and there is a lot of diesel smoke and fumes in the cabin and cockpit. It is not too bad in the cockpit but the cabin is really bad. As a result, we slept in the cockpit to stay away from the diesel fumes. The sound of the engine, when I was steering at night, especially when it was late (or I probably should say, early in the morning) and I was drowsy, sounded strange, sometimes. There were times when I thought I could hear men chanting or wind in the trees. Also, when I was steering at night, especially when there were no stars in the sky for a visual reference, my eyes would play tricks. Sometimes it seemed that I was in the middle of a forest or I was driving down a highway with hills on each side of me. I probably enjoyed steering the most, at night, when the sky was clear and you could see the stars and constellation groups. It was a great feeling to use a star or group of stars to maintain a heading rather than have to refer to the compass. It was much easier to steer that way and it also reminded me of the times I enjoyed most during my navigation training in 1955 when I was learning celestial navigation.

Friday, June 6, 1997

Winds remain light and from the South and we continue to motor along. The fumes and smoke are getting worse. John and Stan decide to try and jury rig something to see if they can solve the problem. They had to get down inside the hull by going through the openings under the cockpit seats to reach the hose they figured was causing the problem. The area is very small and cramped and filthy with diesel smoke residue. They did their best by trying to cover the suspected leak in the hose with aluminum foil strips and duct tape but, unfortunately, with little result. While they were working in those conditions the boat was pitching up, down and sideways in the swells. Luckily the swells were not big but they were big enough to make it really uncomfortable for John and Stan because the close quarters, smell and pitching made both of them nauseous. You have probably figured out why I named us the “Black Hand” crew by now. The diesel residue that John and Stan were working in stained their hands black for the rest of the trip. Even I had black hands from just touching areas in the cockpit (nothing like John or Stan, however).

During the attempt to fix the exhaust problem, Stan had an accident that could have turned out a lot worse but it was bad enough, as it was. Both of the locker covers were open in the cockpit to get as much ventilation as we could into the area where John and Stan were working. Stan had crawled out for a moment and, because the boat was rocking a lot, lost his balance. He was standing with his back to the port locker and fell backwards into it. When he fell, he doubled over with his chin almost touching his knees. I was at the wheel watching him almost disappear into the bilge. We pulled him out and he would have been okay except that when his legs went up his right big toe hit the locker catch and ended up broken. He was hurting for the rest of the trip.

We decided to head for Newport Harbor to see if we can get the exhaust problem fixed. The winds remained light until about 6:00 P.M. As might be expected, the winds were picking up when we approached Newport — 25 knots or so. We shut off the engine and put up the sails. With the darkness and the waves against us, John was reluctant to get in to close without being certain all the hazards were identified.

Saturday, June 7, 1997

Again, the actual time periods are not really clear in my mind but we tied up at a slip in a marina in Newport Harbor about 4:00 A.M. and a lot happened from the time we started sailing in the early evening until then. We had to make sure we turned into the harbor from the Southwest since there were some bad rocks and shoals to the Northwest which was the direction we were coming from.. We could see one jetty on the radar, but could not be certain which side we were looking at on the scope. As we came into the area we tried to make out where the approach buoys were and pick up the right ones. It was pitch black looking seaward and looking towards shore the lights in the town and harbor of Newport made it difficult to figure out what was what. We sailed into the area that we were sure was safe to make our turn into the harbor and proceeded in.

We still could not make out the harbor entrance. There was only one red light on the north jetty and no light on the south side. As we progressed in toward Newport we could see fishing boats coming in. We tried a couple of times to identify what track they were taking but we were too far away to really get a good line on their course. We saw a large boat coming out with lights all over the hull and superstructure so we headed over toward it. When we got close enough so that we were sure they could see us we hailed them on VHF Channel 16 and asked them if they could give us an idea of where the harbor entrance was. The voice from the ship said that we should go just a bit north of where they were and we would see the entrance. There was a range we could pick up that would guide us up the channel. A “range” is a set of two lights - one higher and behind the other so that when they are lined up you are in the center of the channel. Since we were under sail we decided to drop the sails, turn on the engine and motor in. To be honest, I was not at all excited about dropping the sails in the area we presently were in since it was very rough with the bow, when we were going into the wind, moving a good 10 to 15 feet up and down. I suggested that we go further in toward shore with the hope that we would be more sheltered from the wind. John, however, said no and went, with Stan, on the foredeck to lower the jib and main sail. We turned on the engine to help me keep the bow into the wind while they struggled with the sails. The job got done but I have to admit that I don’t think I would have had the intestinal fortitude to do it if either Stan or John were not able or willing. Just a short time after we began to motor back toward the shore the engine started sounding bad and then it stopped completely.

So! — here we were at about 2:00 A.M. trying to find the harbor entrance — no engine and the need to put the sails back up! Getting the sails back up was not quite as difficult as when they were taken down since we were somewhat closer in and the headlands on the north side of the bay sheltered us from some of the wind. We proceeded north, per instructions from the “big ship” which we later found out was a dredge that kept the harbor channel entrance open. Since the way we wanted to go was pretty much into the wind (from the north) we had to “short tack” (quick tacks through the wind to make distance toward the direction the wind is coming from). Stan and I manned the jib winches and worked our butts off as we short tacked back and forth to get to the channel entrance. When we sailed in, we picked up the bright red light on the north jetty and then immediately after we could see the range lights clearly. At that point we were “home free” except for the fact that we had to sail the boat into a marina and dock it under sail. That is a difficult thing to do for a small boat, let alone a 43 footer. When we turned into the channel we were on a close reach and did not have to tack as much but the tide was still going out and we had river current against us to add to our loss of wind behind the bluff that Newport is built on. The wind died down to just a breeze that barely kept us ghosting along. We had to get under the Highway 101 bridge which was just around a bend in the channel. We tried about five times to make it through but now the wind was coming right through the bridge span we had to go under. Each time the wind was either too light or not from a direction that would allow us to make it under the bridge on one of the tacks. Finally we got a wind shift, when the wind picked up a bit, and we made it through. We sailed right past the marina entrance because it was not lighted but realized it right away when we saw the lights on a fuel dock that was marked on our chart just above the marina. We turned around, found the entrance and sailed in. We found an empty slip right on the end of the dock that allowed us to head up into the wind, drop our sails and go into the slip without even bumping the end. That was a neat piece of seamanship on John’s part, with the help of Stan and me on the sails and dock lines. Unfortunately it was all done at 4:00 in the morning and there was no one to see us and marvel at what great sailors we were!

We slept as long as we could but I think we only got about four hours. When John got up he started out along the dock talking to the commercial fishermen to see if he could find help to get the exhaust problem fixed. He met a real gentlemen named Ira Koker (PICTURE) who was an angel in disguise. Ira is one of those people that you meet only a few times in your life. Since I was an executive with the Boy Scouts of America for 20 years I have to say that Ira Koker is a major example of the Scout Motto “Do A Good Turn Daily!” He got tools from his boat, crawled down into the diesel mess, checked out the problem and between him and John got the hose and exhaust assembly out of the boat. He then put all of us in his pick-up, took us to a business that works on engines that he knew personally. With the help of the owner of the business it was determined that it would not be possible to replace the equipment. Ira knew someone that could fabricate a new piece of equipment from scratch and took John to his shop to see if it could be done. Sure enough, it was possible to make up a new exhaust assembly from spare parts and scrap metal. When John and Stan came back, the word was that it might get done tomorrow (Sunday) or perhaps Monday. Stan was of the opinion that if we were lucky it would be done by Tuesday or Wednesday. As it happened, it was all done Sunday and installed by Monday morning. We also made contact with someone that could repair the sail, as it had ripped again in the same place.

Ira wanted to take us to breakfast, too and we let him show us a good place to go but we would not let him pay for it — for sure! When we got back to the boat we checked out the marina area and found showers and laundry facilities. We all took hot showers (a real luxury!) and gave a phone call home to let everyone know that we were going to have a much longer delay this time. We put something together from the provisions on the boat for an evening meal and then hit the bunks at 6:30 P.M.

Sunday, June 8, 1997

We rolled out of the sack at about 7:30 A.M. (that’s a needed 13 hours of sleep) (PICTURE) and spent a part of the day cleaning up the boat (cockpit and cabin). There was smoke residue everywhere and we spent most of the morning and some of the afternoon working on it. Later in the afternoon we took a water taxi across the channel to the Newport waterfront to check out the “tourist” area. We had dinner there and then took a “land” taxi back to the marina (over the bridge we had such a hard time getting under).(PICTURE)

The weather a hundred or so miles south of Newport was really bad. There were gale warnings with 40 foot waves and 40 to 50 knot winds. A smaller sailboat than ours (about 38 feet, I think) was in the middle of it and lost their rudder. A Coast Guard helicopter attempting to rescue the boat was lost with all four of its crew when a 40 foot wave hit it while it was hovering. A Coast Guard boat rescued the crew of the sailboat but their boat was lost. Actually it probably was good fortune for us that we were forced to come into Newport as we might have been in the middle of that weather, too.

Monday, June 9, 1997

The sore shoulders, back and weak legs have improved every day since my concerns in Victoria about my ability to physically handle the trip. I feel good, now — the aches and pains are gone — and I am looking forward to the rest of this “adventure.” Monday morning was spent installing the exhaust assembly. While John and Stan worked with the “experts” getting that done I washed and dried our clothes and took some pictures. The repaired sail arrived about noon. We got it back on the boom and ready to hoist. Shortly after, we motored out the channel, with our sails already set, to start the journey again. Just as we got past the bridge, going out the channel, a lot of steam and smoke started coming from the engine compartment. We shut down the engine and sailed back into the marina (in daylight this time but there still was nobody around to see us do it). It was only a loose hose fitting which John fixed in a few minutes and we set out again with no problems after topping off the fuel tank at a fuel dock. The weather forecast was for the southerly winds to become west to north west and for the wind to pick up to 20 or 30 knots. Unfortunately, that did not happen and so we were motoring again. We stayed close into the shore and as we progressed south we could see cars driving down Highway 101. The weather was very comfortable and the scenery along the shoreline was great.

Tuesday June 10, 1997

We spent all last night, all of today and tonight, motoring as the forecasted wind change did not appear. The time I spent on the helm tonight was especially good, except for the fact that we were not sailing. The sky was clear and I used the constellation, Saggitarius, the archer, for a heading reference. Saggitarius looks just like a teapot and the reference point I used was the tip of the spout. As I mentioned earlier, I really enjoyed the night sailing when I was on the helm.

Wednesday, June 11, 1997

We continue to motor along. A couple of times we made an attempt to sail but the winds are just too light and are still coming from the south. Since we are using the engine so much and getting low on diesel fuel we decide to head into Crescent City. One comment about the conversations held on the boat as we talked during the long days of motoring. Both John and Stan do a lot of cooking. About 80 percent of the time the subject was: what’s good to eat, how to prepare it, where you can buy it around the Sacramento area, what restaurants are really good and other subjects that revolved around food and eating. I know more about how to cook things now than I learned in the past 40 years of adult life. I do have to say that Stan did tell some really great stories about his Air Force times. Actually it was interesting and I enjoyed listening to John and Stan talk about cooking and their years in the Air Force.

Thursday, June 12, 1997

We got to the Crescent City harbor early in the morning and while it was pitch black, as usual. Also — as usual — we found it difficult to pick up the approach buoys and make out the entrance to the harbor. There are some great big rocks just off the harbor entrance so we made our way in very carefully. We did see a lot of fishing boats coming in and pulled in behind one of them so that getting into the harbor ended up much easier than our experience in Newport. We tied up near the harbor entrance and after finding a bathroom to take care of necessary requirements we hit the bunks.

John noticed, yesterday, that the batteries did not seem to be charging right during the afternoon and evening. The first thing he did when we woke up about six hours later was to get the alternator off the engine to see if it needed any repair. He then started down the dock to see if he could find some advice and possible help. Does that sound familiar? John really has a gift because he found someone that told him about a shop to check out the alternator and then got a ride from him to get the job done. There did not seem to be anything wrong so they cleaned it up a bit. When John got back and re-installed the alternator, the batteries charged as they should. We decided to continue on as soon as possible so we motored over to a fuel dock to get the fuel we needed. We had to wait while a couple of fishing boats loaded up with a few hundred gallons of diesel. That took a while but we finally got the little bit of fuel we required and started our journey once more. The winds had picked up and the wind direction was from the Northwest now which allowed us to finally do some sailing.

Friday, June 13, 1997

As we sailed south, we maintained a heading of about 180 degrees. The coast, however, goes in a south easterly direction from Cape Mendocino. We passed the Cape sometime during the night and as a result ended up about 50 or 60 miles from the coast at daylight. Also, by the time the sun came up the winds had increased dramatically. In fact, we found ourselves in a full gale again. The jib had to be lowered (the main was already reefed) and this time we were lowering it with waves about 18 to 20 feet high. John and Stan went on the foredeck to do the job while I attempted to keep the boat headed into the wind. It was really scary as the wind was blowing hard and we were going up and down what looked like awful big waves to me. The jib got lowered but it was a major struggle.

We had passed the range of the loran stations we were tracking and were not able to accurately fix our position. Fortunately, Stan had the fortitude to get below and put his head in the manual to learn how to re-set the new stations to the south. As John said later, he was not going below in those conditions to try to read a manual, or he would have been back at the rail. He had enough of that already! But it was a big help to get a string of fixes going, to pinpoint the location of the Golden Gate and pick the right headings.

The wind continued to increase in strength and the waves seemed to get bigger as the day wore on. We estimated that the winds were about 50 knots and the waves were in excess of 20 feet. That pretty much matched the weather forecast we got during the day, also. John was on the helm for about three or four hours in the morning and he was not feeling very well, either. Finally he had to give up and get some rest.

He crawled into his bunk and Stan and I took over the “duty”. Because the main was reefed and we had no headsail the boat was not balanced. As a result when the boat started down the front of a wave, it wanted to turn into the wind which was off our port quarter (left and to the rear). In order to maintain our heading, which would take us back toward the coast, and to keep from broaching (turning sideways to the wave) I had to bear down on the wheel with all of my strength. That had to be done three or four times, there seemed to be a break in the waves and then you were back in the same routine again. I was able to last about an hour at a time. After the first hour my only relief was Stan and I knew at the time that he felt really insecure about getting on the helm in those conditions. He found out, however, that when you were on the wheel it was not as bad as it looked when you were watching someone else do it and could see the waves building up behind the helmsman. Stan did a great job and we switched off each hour. After a while, in the early afternoon, Stan would get Loran fixes each hour and report on how each of us did while we were steering. We did 10 to 12 knots for about 12 hours.

When I was not steering, I sat with my back to the cabin and facing aft (to the rear) looking at Stan or John at the wheel. It was a scary sight! I could see the waves building up behind the boat and I finally had to close my eyes because I was getting heavy-duty anxious feelings and it was not fun, at all! I found it was better to be steering because I could not see what was happening behind me — all I had to do was react to what the boat was doing and that kept me busy enough to get over any feelings of anxiety or fear. As I looked out over the seascape, I could see waves breaking all around the boat with big patches of translucent green water and foam from where large waves had broken in the past.

Once or twice, while I was steering, waves broke over the transom and into the cockpit. One time the water was up to my knees and level with the seats in the cockpit. That is a lot of water and started the adrenaline flowing in a big way! John had water that deep in the cockpit a couple of times while I was sitting there, watching. Also, while I was sitting on the port side a wave came from that side and somewhat forward, it seemed. It broke over the canvas dodger, tearing out the side curtain next to me and ripping a hole in the dodger just above my head. I looked up at John and for a second all I could see was water where John was standing behind the wheel. The next second or two I saw John emerge, shaking his head back and forth to clear the water from his eyes and face.

It was not all bad and scary. I got a huge thrill the first time I caught a wave right and got the boat surfing. Stan thought something was going wrong. You could feel a strong vibration and hear a “THRUMMMMMM” sound that was really exciting. Stan got a few “surfs” himself while he was steering and I know he got as big a kick from it as I did. After a few hours I was able to set the boat up for a surf and I played with it for a few minutes. Unfortunately, at that time, the heading to get the boat to surf was about fifteen or twenty degrees west of where we needed to steer to get back to the coast so I had to quit “playing.”

In the late afternoon it started to feel and look like the wind and waves were decreasing. I wanted that to happen so bad that at first, I just figured it was wishful thinking but it actually was getting better. The conditions continued to improve and as nightfall came we were sailing in rather calm conditions. Of course, almost anything would seem calm after the 12 hours we spent during the previous day. We were trying to keep a heading that would take us back to the coast and still allow distance to be made toward the south and San Francisco Bay. We had a “preventer” on the boom which kept it from slamming across the boat if we jibed (brought the wind across the rear of the sail) accidentally. It was a good thing we had that preventer there because the heading we wanted to make was about 20 degrees away from a jibe. Anytime we steered too far to the west the sail would jibe and you would hear a big “CRACK.” Stan had been steering in the early evening and every now and then the sail would go “CRACK!” When I took over, I thought “I’m not going to do that!” and guess what — about a minute and a half of steering I went too far west and “CRACK!” For the next hour or two I was doing the same thing as Stan. Finally I gave up and asked someone to relieve me because I felt like I was doing a terrible job of steering the boat. John took over and he ended up doing the same thing that Stan and I were doing — “CRACK!” That made me feel a bit better about my steering but I also realized that we were all so tired we were having trouble with our coordination and concentration. When you cannot stay within twenty degrees of a heading in relatively calm conditions you begin to realize that maybe something is wrong. It was a good thing that the end of our journey was getting close. We could see the Point Reyes light, now, which is about 30 miles from San Francisco Bay. I was able to crawl in my bunk around midnight and get some sleep. This will be a Friday the thirteenth I will not forget for the rest of my life!!!!

Saturday, June 14, 1997

When I woke up and looked out of the cabin, I could see the Golden Gate bridge. That was a welcome sight, to say the least. I broke out my camera and took a couple of pictures of the bridge off in the distance and one as we passed under the bridge. John hit the sack and let Stan and I bring the boat through the Bay to the channel entrance that would take us to the Richmond City marina. Stan steered and I acted as “lookout.” There were lots of boats heading in all directions — it felt like we were in a traffic jam. We made it through the traffic and got John back in the cockpit as we approached the channel that took us into the marina. Stan bought a six pack of “Full Sail” beer, in Newport and he opened three of them, now. We toasted each other in recognition of a great sail! The other three bottles will be kept unopened by each of us as a memento of the trip.

We sailed up the channel, dropped our sails at the marina entrance and tied up at the dock in front of the Harbormaster’s office. As John went up to the office, I sat on the dock totally exhausted. I haven’t been that tired for years but at the same time I felt good.

It was a great trip. Exciting, beautiful, scary, physically exhausting, fun! A trip, as I said at the start — of a lifetime — and one I would not have missed for anything!

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