When Jim and i sailed to Hawaii
and back from San Francisco
, the boat
was a Yankee 30, which had an ice box, not actual refrigeration
. For the trip, he added insulation
around it, and also had a dodger
built. We borrowed a life raft, and provisioned the boat
. People laughed at us, because we brought a big net sack of onions aboard. What could two people possibly want with that many
onions? The forepeak was devoted to sail and provision storage
, and included honeydew melons, potatoes, cabbages, oranges, items that keep okay without refrigeration
. The quarter berth was full of *stuff* including the dinghy
, rolled up in its bag. We slept, using weather
cloths to keep us safe and snug, on the settees.
was by sextant
, and Jim had written a little program that he could use with his calculator, so he could do a least squares fit to a parabola, and our noon site regime began well before noon and continued after. Our days were circumscribed by the sight taking regime. He took the sights, I recorded them. When i tried to take the sights, I got horribly seasick, and that part was a no go for me.
We got weather
forecasts via shortwave receiver from WWV, and learned that a tropical storm was headed our way--it was August. We had our fastest day's run ever, downwind, with only our storm jib
up. Imagine, 8.6 knots highest recorded speed, with a mono with a 25 ft. waterline!
Somewhere off the shipping
lanes, about the latitude of Los Angeles, we had VHF
contact with a ship, that confirmed our position was pretty much what we thought it was. Hallelujah! The celestial was working well! Our landfall was within a quarter hour of when Jim predicted it. And, we decided we liked ocean passages.
All of the foregoing is just preamble. It was reading the saga of the bread (thanks, Pete) that recalled to mind the real story here. We provisioned in Hanalei for the trip back to the mainland, and some new friends kindly froze up some water
in my bread pans, for us to use for ice.
We put to sea in normal tradewind conditions, except, now it was on the wind
, instead of off, into 20-25 knots. I became seasick, a condition that was to stay with me most of the trip. But seaboard life went on, watch on watch, with Jim doing all the cooking
, and soon, the freshies were gone. Our meals
used canned food as a base, the onions added crunch, and I was able to keep liquids down, and, more importantly, able to stand my watches.
And then came the clouds, obscuring our noon sights. And we kept the dead reckoning going. (Scary term, eh, DEAD reckoning!) I remember one night, dinner was to be chicken soup, and while Jim was dishing up the soup, and we were on a beam reach, the serving spoon got caught under the galley
shelf and splattered soup all over the back of the galley
. That mess just stayed there till we got in.
We had 22 ft. seas, according to WWVH, and the caulking under the hatch
gave up, so it was wet sleeping, although the polyester sleeping bags still kept us warm. But, still, no noon sites, and no star sights, and now we're approaching California's rocky coast, and beginning to worry about our DR. "Wake me before dawn, if it's clear", said Jim, but it was ever cloudy. Some time about now, Jim opened the icebox
, to discover that the lid had come off the mayonnaise jar, and the pickles jar, and the tomato juice pitcher had leaked. The resulting mess had plated out all over the icebox
, and green hairy mold
was growing all over it and the teak
grating in the bottom. Mega yuck!. Mold
is one of my least favorite things, too.
Each day, we hoped for the cloud to let us get a sight, any sight, and yet it persisted. We were getting scared that we might come up on the Farallones without seeing them, and much of California's coast is dark, so more of a danger
, the bottom comes up very quickly. ....And, still the cloud.
As luck would have it, at dusk on the next to last day of the trip, the sky cleared, Jim shot a round of stars, and, we could see the light on the Farallones, so we got a real fix at last, and confirmation thereof! Happy campers, we were, and set course for the Golden Gate, home, and our friends.
The next morning, Jim volunteered to clean the icebox after we got into our slip at the marina. ....And that, my was the beginning of passage
making for us, and at the rate of an onion per day per person, which we had planned, but didn't attain, we arrived home, with a much depleted onion supply.
And we learned, so much.... Need to carry lots of anti-mal de mer stuff for me, need to secure veggies so as to keep them well. The cantaloupe got smashed (yuck), but the honeydew stayed good. Onions are a good source of vitamin C if you don't cook them but the tiniest bit. We were lucky with the DR, not skillful. But, in spite of the difficulties, we enjoyed passage
making, and that was what we'd wanted to learn.