Departure from San Pedro, Cabrillo Marina: June 19, 2016 7:30AM PST
Arrival in Kaua’i, Nawiliwili Small Boat Harbor: July 8, 2016 8:30PM HST
Time: 19 days, 13 hours
Preparation
There were a number of projects I took on in the year prior to departure. Having now made this first crossing, they all seem essential to me. They include replacement and enlargement of seacocks and through-hulls all at various levels of dezincification, installation of a Balmar 100A alternator and regulator, installation of a gimbaled stove, replacement of my fuel tank, various sewing projects, and others. Of these, the hardest-working piece of equipment on this voyage was the wind vane, a Monitor. It’s performance day and night for the duration of the voyage was impressive. I hadn’t originally planned on putting in a new wind vane, but as I considered it’s continuous operation throughout the voyage further, I decided that this gear needed to offer the greatest guarantee of reliability. I can’t say I’m a great fan of the aesthetics on the transom, but it offers an incredibly strong structure on which to install Monitor’s emergency rudder system, which was a key selling point for me.
Initial positioning of the Monitor (upper brackets installed only)
Days 1-4
The first 4 days were a little rough going, with gusts to 35 knots right from the start near the west end of Catalina, and close-reaching/close-hauled on starboard tack. The seas seemed biggest here of the entire trip, as it had been blowing to 35 knots for a few days prior to my departure. It’s hard to measure, of course, but at least from the angle in the cockpit, some waves appeared to approach the height of the lower spreaders. The wave period was forecast to be 6 seconds, and the observed period appeared to match it.
Occasionally, our pitch was severe as we sailed above the wave crests and appeared to be taking-off.
I sailed rather conservatively here, as I wasn’t in a rush and didn’t want to push the boat (or me) hard right from the start. A gray tug-sized commercial vessel altered course and approached me off Santa Barbara Island. He came within 300 yards or so…just enough for the helmsman to establish eye contact with me. He waved as if to ask if everything was ok in these conditions (you fool). I waved back, and he went on his way.
Conditions off San Nicolas Island
I didn’t sleep much, but at night I was double-reefed and rolled-in the jib…..maintaining a heave-to position, but making 2-3 knots. This maintained forward progress, but the movement was easy with the boat just sitting and gliding over the waves like some of the sea birds I saw. We got some occasional water on deck and in the cockpit, and I quickly discovered all the leak areas around portlights and deck hardware. The sun was shining the whole time, which gave these days a lively, sporting character. One ship (the Azalea Ace…a vehicle carrier) approached at night off San Nicolas Island within 3 miles, at which point I radioed them. "Affirmative sir. We can see you on radar approximately 3 miles off our port bow. We can also see your red port light as well." Real professional. He called me "sir."
Sunset on San Nicolas Island
Most of this time, I was (perhaps overly) concerned with sailing or drifting into Bishop’s Rock located in the Cortes Bank, which the USS Enterprise (CVN-65) reportedly struck in 1985 resulting in a large gash in her outer port hull, ripping off her port keel, and deforming 3 of 4 of her port propeller blades. Even if I steered clear of the rock, there was the shoaling along the Cortes Bank to worry about, which produces large waves. Also of concern were the ODAS buoys in the area. And who knows what else. In these early days, anything was possible. I think it was at latitude 32 that I started breathing (and sailing) a little easier.