Intros
August 2003 brought an opportunity to crew on a sailboat returning to Victoria, British Columbia from Honolulu, Hawaii. Hugh, a retired doctor who had been sailing around the South Pacific for about five years was completing his adventure and as he put it, “moving through the ranks from being a dreamer to a doer to a doner.” When he reached Victoria he planned to “swallow the anchor” and settle down with his wife “on the hard” (land).
Hugh’s wife, Joyce, had had enough of sailing and chose to fly home so Hugh reached out for crew members to help him sail north. That’s where I came in. Hugh submitted a crew request with Offshore Passage Opportunities (a crew networking service) and, being recently released from corporate prison, I called Hugh and “hired” on as first mate. My pay was simply the opportunity to sail—more than fair in my mind.
Hugh & Joyce met me at the Honolulu airport and we immediately hit it off. They reminded me of close family friends I’d known for years. A couple other crew members joined us later that day. Michael aboard to handle the galley and Dane aboard as additional help rounded out the crew. Well, sort of…
Dane (spelled D A N E, as he introduced himself to me) was a wannabe sailor who, as it turned out, struggled to keep the boat on a consistent heading. His intentions were good… Michael was a nice guy and good cook, although his lightness about the boat in his boxer shorts grew old the first day. Nevertheless, I truly appreciated his contribution in keeping us fed and fueled with coffee & hot chocolate during the late night and early morning watches.
Hugh quickly proved that he knew his boat as well as he knew himself. Well, sort of…
Hugh’s skills on the water were impressive! He could trim the sails and balance the boat with the precision that only comes with a true sailor’s intuition and oneness with his vessel. I knew I’d learn a lot from Hugh on this trip. His attention to things mechanical, however, was less pronounced. Hugh would learn a few things from me, as well.
Departure
Joyce had already provisioned the boat for our trip and we spent another couple days making final preparations for the estimated four week trip across the North Pacific.
We departed the north shore of Oahu and rode the strong easterly trade winds on a north-northwest heading. During the summer months the Pacific High pressure system parks itself between Hawaii and the northwest coast of the U.S. The winds of this system circulate clockwise and can be fairly strong on its perimeter but frustratingly non-existent at its core. Thus, sailboats and the centers of high pressure systems don’t work well together. Our plan (and the predominate wisdom of most sailors) was to skirt the system by sailing northwest—yes, away from our destination—until we were far enough north to pick up the Pacific High’s westerly winds and ride them home. We’d be sailing north and slightly west for at least two weeks (probably longer) before we made the right turn to head east.
Hugh called the Pacific Seafarers Net by SSB radio and got us included in their daily boat reports. This is a great service offered by amateur HAM radio operators that allows mariners to share weather, voyage progress, and other vital information. The service would become very helpful in a few days…
For the first few days we were booking along at the boat’s hull speed of about 9 knots, thanks to the consistency of the 25 knot trade winds. We were reefed and double-reefed and loving every minute of such easy sailing—not having to work very hard at trimming sails or adjusting rudder position. Well, Hugh & I were loving it… Michael & Dane were acclimating to the rhythm and roll of the sea and its swells; they kept calling for someone named Ralph…
Doldrums
The trades died and the bottom-side, easterly winds of the Pacific High were still north of us, and we came to a screeching stop without the wind fuel we needed. We were reluctant to fire up the D-sail just yet, as we had a limited amount of diesel aboard and needed to conserve it throughout the trip.
So we unpacked the spinnaker and after three hours of untangling it, hoisted the huge sheet to capture the light breezes. Sailing a spinnaker requires a fine touch and sense of feel for the boat and its interaction with fickle winds. You really need to anticipate the effects of swells, breeze fluctuations and currents, especially when sailing on a broad reach or downwind. If you read ‘em wrong the sail can easily drop on you, putting the boat at risk. We doused the spinnaker that night to avoid any trouble and made little headway… But I slept better knowing that someone else at the helm wouldn’t capsize the boat (probably). We’d just have to do something about the lack of wind…