Journey to nowhere

Or at least, just back to where I started.

So, here's the thing. On the 7th of April, I set off for the Marquesas Islands. Yes I know, I didn't blog for days before that and didn't tell you what was happening, and it's all terribly unfair. Dry your eyes princess, I was busy.

So off we went. The forecast was great. We should have had 5 days of steady north-westerly winds at about 15 knots, which is ideal. And when we set off, that's just what we had. A 'beam reach', probably the best combination of fast and comfortable sailing. 7 knots we were doing. 7, I tells ya! For about 6 hours. Then we were becalmed for about 3 hours. Then the wind came back, and went away again. So we were becalmed for about 12 hours in the first 3 days, but still managed 300 nm (nautical miles (540 km. 1 nautical mile is about 1.8 km)).

Unfortunately, Going neither fast or comfortably, nor on a reach, run or tacking into the wind, made any difference to the crew being sea-sick. It was not good, and it didn't go away.

Anyway, we were out of sight of land by sunrise on the second day. That's when it really sinks in, for me at least, that this is a big ocean. There's nothing but water as far as the eye can sea. And it isn't flat at all. The ocean swells mean that parts of it are always moving. Really big parts, sometimes. It can be really eerie to have the boat sink down into a small valley, and you're looking up at the water all around you, even when it's relatively calm. Then later you're sailing along on the top of a small hill of water, and everything is 'down', and you can see other small hills of water moving around the landscape. Took some getting used to.

The boat was boarded by seas creatures on three occasions. And they were ... squid. Not giant attacking squid rising from the deep.Little things, not much bigger than my thumb. One of them actually made it into the cockpit. I'm not sure how, but it didn't end well for the squid. It must have been washed into the cockpit during the night, and ended up under my feet. All I knew was, when the sun came up, there was squid ink smeared around the cockpit floor, where I had apparently trampled the poor thing to an inglorious end. So it goes.

There were a couple of periods of just about every variety of weather available, and we were consistently managing 100 nm per day. I was, apart from James continuing to be sick, pretty satisfied. Then on day 9 the autopilot gave up the ghost. This, it occurred to me almost immediately, was 'not good'.

A quick decision was made, and that was that we couldn't continue with  sick crew member and no autopilot for the remaining 1800 nm to Nuku Hiva. Hawaii was almost as far, and Mexico was something like 1100 nm. Our starting point, Channel Islands Harbor was 'only' 950 nm behind us. So, around we went, heading back.

The weather, I would have to say, was not kind to us on the way back. Not severe, but coming from exactly where we wanted to go, for about 5 days straight. The sailors among you will know that this means tacking. For 5 days. But we got through it, and slipped back into the same pen that we started from some 19 days and 1954nm later.

The plan now is that I'll fly home to get some administrative stuff sorted, and the two fillings that fell out of my teeth during the trip replaced, then come back and try again. James has decided that a sailor's life is not for him, and has resigned from the project. So it's back to my original plan ... doing it solo!

I fly out of LAX tomorrow night, and should be back home in sunny Stawell on ... err ... Tuesday, I think. Then I'll be back here in two to three weeks, do the repairs and make some changes based on my first attempt, and try again.I'm really pleased with how the boat handled the variety of conditions, and with the lessons learned from the first attempt, I'm even more confident that this can be done. Not easily, but it can be done.

I'll transcribe a couple of my 'reflections' from the ships log in the next couple of posts, but that will be a few days away, as I'll be travelling and so on.

Toodly pip.

How Embarrasment, and some progress

OK, the embarrassing part first. Imagine, if you will, that your car doesn't have any brakes. To stop the car you have to let the revs die down, and put it in reverse. Then turn off the motor before it starts to move you backwards. Further, this imaginary car doesn't haven't an 'Off' position on the ignition, instead it just shuts off the engine if you take your foot off the accelerator. Now imagine trying to park in a place where there is a wall at the end, but you must fit the car neatly and completely inside the space.

Well parking a boat in a pen is bit like that. Mine is a bit more of an accident waiting to happen than most, because someone decided to disconnect the engine 'kill' switch, and allow the throttle to to operate as a shut-down mechanism if you pull it all the way back to the normal 'Idle' position..

So last night after another sail that started with a period of being becalmed and turned into a great sail later, I got back to the pen, lined it up perfectly, and just where I got to the point where I'm supposed to select Reverse to bring it to a stop, I bring the throttle back too far and shut off the engine. The boat, which weighs several tonnes, is still rapidly moving forward towards the end of the pen which is only a few metres away. Then things got much worse. The engine wont start with the throttle in the 'kill' position, so I push it forward. Unfortunately, in my haste, I push it way too far. Then I hit the Start button, forgetting that the boat is still in Forward gear. The motor roars into life at pretty much full throttle, and the boat surges forward into the end of the pen. I don't think I can adequately describe the image as the bow of the boat actually started to slide up onto the footpath area of pen, and then slid off sideways, banging the side of the hull into the side wall of the pen. By this time I had gathered my wits enough to kill the engine, again. And I certainly don't think I should repeat the words that I said. It was something like "Oh dear, that wasn't quite what I intended to do". Perhaps a few other words as well.

Fortunately there was no significant damage to either the pen or the boat, and it was well after dark so there wasn't any one around to witness my misadventure, but I spent most of the night calling myself all kinds of stupid.

So, putting that behind me, a quick list of the things I did today ... spliced the anchor rope onto the anchor chain (so the windlass can pull both up without having to deal with a joining shackle), fitted one cleat and replaced a seized one, and this ...

Before ...

After!

 Well, OK I didn't actually do it, but I organised a sign-writer, so I can claim that 'I got it done'. Being a requirement of Australian ship registration, I'm not allowed to have it in anything than boring old block letters.


And, um, yeah, that's about it. Doesn't seem like much when I put them in a list. No matter, it's progress!

Oh ... I also figured out how to place pictures in this blog. Unfortunately I didn't get any pictures of the 2 large pods of dolphins that came close to the boat during two recent sails. When I say large I mean well over 20. That's a lot of dolphins playing around a boat. Maybe next time.

Bed time here. Later all!

EDIT: PS. I forgot to note that the solar panel has arrived, and is taking up the couch in the cabin while awaiting installation. My 'sparky' says he can't get here till Tuesday.(sad face).

Sailing ... that's what I'm talking about!

Solar panel hasn't arrived yet  :<

It  has however been occupying my mind. I checked out my second preference for a mounting spot and it won't fit there either! Crap. So now it looks like I'm going to have to build a frame for it to sit on or over the stern rail. Not a huuuge cost, but big enough to feel. More aggravating is the time factor. It will no doubt take an extra couple of days to get it installed.

On the bright side ...

A couple of good sailing sessions in the last few days!

On Saturday I took the boat out for what was meant to be a 2 -3 hour trip out to a local navigation mark, an offshore platform called "Gina". It's about 4 miles out from the harbour, and I figured it would be about a 2 hour round trip, max. Just as we cleared the breakwater the wind started to die out, and continued to fade.

After 3 hours of bobbing up and down on the pacific swell, and going nowhere, I was still less than a quarter of the way along the outward leg. How, I hear you ask, does this qualify as 'a good sail'? The good part was that I persisted in trying to make the return trip, until well after sundown. Eventually the 'evening change' in the wind came through, and suddenly we were moving along at a tidy 5+ knots in the dark. So it was a good practice session for night sailing. And it was just fun. When I made it to the mark I was seriously tempted to keep going for a couple of miles further. It was however, late enough to convince me to turn around and head back.

Sunday was cold and raining, so we stayed in. More snow on the local ranges. It makes for an odd effect when I get up, seeing snow covered ranges while standing on boat. Apart from some inland lakes I don't think there's anywhere in Australia where I can do that.

Last night we ran out of gas for the stove, and the only place that sells the right sort of gas refills is about 5 miles up the coast, in Ventura Harbor. Yes I know 'harbour' is supposed to have a 'u' in it. It's an American place and therefore has the US spelling. OK? (And Yup, that's the same “Ventura” from the 70's song.It turns out that there is no "Ventura Highway" though. Perhaps it grew into the Freeway? Or perhaps they were just referring to 'a' highway near Ventura? Dunno, but there aint no Highway called Ventura Highway.) Anyway, back to the story ...the last time we ran out of gas one of the locals gave James a lift up there to get a refill. I was thinking of asking for another lift today, when it occurred to me that it was a good distance for a short sail, so we did. And it was a great afternoon. A pleasant 15 knot breeze and we were making 6 knots in a boat not particularly prepared for pace. A great afternoon's sailing.

Parked for lunch

One of the batteries is showing some erratic output, so I guess I'll have to replace the old pair that I was going to take a chance on. I'm already a week over my target departure date and starting to feel just a bit frustrated. 

Get me out of here!

Almost there

... if 'there' is defined as 'not here'. Which is probably an unnecessarily complicated way of saying 'nearly ready to go'.

Today I retrieved the head-sail from the sailmaker. All repaired and strengthened at the main attachment points. Also had the 'rigger' back to replace some stuff at the mast-head and run a couple of new halyards. My productive contribution was to scrape the old home port information off the stern. So Hellcat no longer boasts of being from "Channel Islands California". I'll get a quote from the local boat-signage people to put "Melbourne" on there, as I suspect it will be cheaper to get it done here than at home.

The last lot of work is for the marine electrician to do a heap of installations. (Autopilot, windlass, separate cranking battery, solar panel.) Can't really finish that until the solar panel arrives next week though. I found a 100 watt panel for about A$250 and ordered (and paid) for it, as it was far and away the cheapest I had seen for that output. Next day, sure enough, I saw the identical panel on eBay for less than $200. Oh well. No point losing sleep over it. At 100 watts it should provide enough to replace all our battery drain, on all but the cloudiest days. I do have to figure where on the boat I'm going to mount the thing though, as it's bigger than what I had intended to get, and wont fit in the old spot. That could take some thinking about.

Off to bed. It's late. But at least I got a new post done in less than a week. Pretty impressive, huh?

Late update.

Whoops … been neglecting keeping this up to date. Sorry about that. Consequently, this post will be a bit less structured than some of the others (don't be rude, they weren't all as chaotic as this one) as it's been cobbled together from some posts that I started to make and didn't finish, along with content from some interim emails that I've sent to various people.

So, what to report? Finally made the Australian Ship registration thing happen. Yep, Hellcat is now officially an Australian! This involved a fair bit of email 'to and fro' with the Ship Registration Office at AMSA, but it came good. I now have a Certificate of Provisional Registration which is valid for six months, and allows me to sail home and complete the rest of the full registration requirements in the interim. Actually, the only requirement that is still outstanding is the 'marking', which entails putting the 'ship' number and name on various parts of the boat but that, weirdly, would have added several weeks to the process, and I wanted to get sailing sooner rather than later.

Once I had that document in hand I could approach the Customs and Border Protection (CBP) authorities here and apply for a Cruising Licence. This effectively allows me to sail around the US without having to do the formal exit an re-entry process every time, although I am still required to report my arrival and show the Licence when I change locations. A change in location is loosely defined as moving from the region covered by one CBP office to any place covered by a different CBP office. The requirement to have one is, I guess, a product of the American sense of vulnerability in a post 9-11 world. (Australia has, to my knowledge, no such requirement of foreign flag vessels.) Whatever its origins, the local authorities around this part of California very rarely issue them. So when I wandered into the Port Heumene CBP office and said I wanted a Cruising Licence, I was met by blank stares by the first three people I spoke to. Actually the first response was “Do you have an appointment?”, followed by “Bad timing, we're all about to head out the door and go home”. My voice may have been a little terse when I pointed out that a) their web site doesn't mention making an appointment, and I had been on the phone to their office twice that day and it wasn't mentioned; b) I had walked several miles to get there; and c) their web site states that the office hours are 9 to 5, and it was only 4pm. Then came the blank looks about what I was asking for. Finally they directed me to someone who had actually issued one several years ago.

After sifting through their computer applications and advising me that the last time he did one it was just hand-written on a form, he produced what looks more like a letter than a licence, but it does say all the right things, and has an impressive stamp on it. At the conclusion of the exercise he handed it over, and I asked with some trepidation how much it cost. I had read various figures of $35 to $500, and had come prepared with $200. He looked a bit blank, and said, “It's a free service, there is no charge”, which was both a pleasant and novel surprise, which I tactfully declined to explain to him.

So I made the walk back to the boat in good spirits. Did I mention that I had walked to the CBP office? A mere 7-ish kilometres in a hurry, and I did the return briskly as well, in the hope of getting in some sailing that same day. It wasn't to be though as I got back too late and too tired. The reason I mention it now is to explain why I have been limping for the last few days. Oh, I really didn't mention that bit before. It's partly because I did the walk wearing a pair of runners. It's partly because I did it in a hurry. And it's partly because when I was a lad I accidentally cut off the big toe of my right foot. (Weren't expecting that last one, were you?!) It's a long story of which I wont go into the details. Suffice it to say that it was sewed back on, in what was probably 'cutting edge' surgery (pun intended) in the early 1970's, but it isn't fully functional. The relevant part of this is that long-distance walks in shoes without adequately stiff soles place inordinate strain on the calf muscles of my right leg. It's a product of the way we walk, pushing off with the toes with each step … Oh look, just take my word for it, OK? Thing is, I went to bed expecting to wake up with blisters on my feet, which turned out to not be there, and not expecting severe pain in my right leg, which was there. And still is several days later, but only when I walk for a while in runners. I guess it will come good, and I've discovered that I can walk around without severe pain as long as I'm wearing hard soled shoes. Problem is that hard soled shoes and boats do not go well together. Le sigh.

Right, that little digression out of the way ...

Preparations continue apace. The Satphone has arrived, but now I'm waiting on the 'pre-paid' vendor to activate the SIM card so I can actually access the system. I've also made enquiries to another retailer about establishing a 'post paid' account. So as things stand the Satphone is currently an expensive paperweight.

As I may have mentioned earlier, the boat came with a manual anchor windlass which was thoroughly seized. I salvaged the gypsy (a wheel for reeling in chain) and capstan, which handles rope, (Oh god, I've contracted "Yachties' Hoarding Syndrome") and dumped the rest. I then invested in a very pretty brand new and shiny electric windlass that I'm getting a pro to install. It's a recently superseded Lewmar model I got for $600, whereas they are usually well over $1000.

So, now having a Cruising Licence, I've made two forays out of the pen, each achieving about 3 hours of sailing. First sail went well, even though the leech line on the Genoa snagged the lower spreader and tore out like a zip coming undone. Second sail the footer tape on the Genoa quietly detached itself along most of the sail 'foot'. On inspection I found that the stitching (not the fabric) that is exposed when the Genoa is furled has all but perished. The stitching and fabric 'inside the furl' are OK. So the headsail is now with a Sail-maker to have the sail-edge stitching redone and the head and tack refurbished. For the non-nautical readers, the furler is a device that rolls the head sail up to store 'in situ' rather than having to take it down and put it back up again each time one goes sailing. It also allows for the sail to be reduced in area for sailing in heavy weather without having to change sails at sea. They are a wonderful invention all round. But when the sail is 'furled', part of the sail is still exposed to the weather, and as this boat hasn't been used for at least a couple years, the exposed section has deteriorated. Now if you read this paragraph again it will make more sense. Or I could re-write the paragraph. Nah, you do the work this time.

Otherwise we are nearly there. The 'sparky' (slang term for an electrician) that's doing the Windlass is also going to install the autopilot, a cranking battery, and probably a solar panel. Locals are trying to talk me into buying an 80W panel for $650, but I'm not convinced that I need that much, so I'm aiming at about 40 watts that I can get for much less than half the price of the bigger unit.

A rigger is coming on Monday to do my masthead jobs, which consist of replacing the anchor light and VHF antennae which are both severely deteriorated by exposure to the weather, and installing 2 (!) external emergency/utility halyards. I've already made two trips to the first spreader, which is only about a third of the way up, and that's high enough for me, thank you very much. After that it's pretty much 'provision' and go.

As an aside, I've come to the realisation that I have to stop even listening to local advice on what one 'must have' fitted to one's boat. With one exception, all the people that have made such advice have 'just the thing' available to sell to me at a 'good price'. The one exception is another cruising yachtie in a boat a couple of pens up the dock, who is also preparing his boat for a south pacific trip. He did make one suggestion that would have cost me several hundred dollars to implement, but came back a couple of hours later and said “Thinking about where you said you're going, you wont need that, so forget it, your current setup is OK”. Nice old bloke, is Barry. Deaf as a door post, but nice. I've started to interrupt people who say "what you need is ..." by saying "Don't tell me what it is, just tell me how much it will cost and I'll tell you if it has a chance of happening"

Another source of help has been the broker that represented the former owner in the purchase. He recently suggested that it would be useful for us to have a dinghy for getting around the marina and nearby shops, and before I could interrupt him as above, he added "I think I can get you one free. Old and needs work, but free". And he has done so. It is old, and needs work, but it was free. James has started on the repairs. The broker has also allowed me to use his frequent-buyer discount arrangement with the local chandlers, which has saved me something in the order of $200. Another nice chappie.

 

I had set the 22nd as a target departure date, but with the Genoa being in a shop that wont look at it 'til Monday, and waiting to resolve the Satphone, and the electrical works that wont even start until Tuesday, that's pretty much certain to be pushed back a couple of days.

Had a couple of lazy days this weekend (I'm writing this Sunday night, local time). We've had the first rain since about 6 weeks ago (a good leak test which revealed only one leak to fix) with strong winds. All that and having no headsail, means no sailing and instead catching up on 'in cabin' stuff, like writing emails, experimenting with on-board cooking, and even updating this blog instead of the test sailing that I would otherwise be doing.

Well that'll do for now. Once again apologies for the long gap. I'll try to be more frequent with updates until departure day.

Plodding along

Where are we up to? Still haven't moved out of the pen is where we're up to. Not once.

At this stage there are two major obstacles to doing any sailing. The first is that I'm waiting on delivery of my new anchor-chain. The one that was on the boat was not usable. It had been sitting unused for so long that parts of it had rusted into solid lumps of ... well, rust. I toyed with the idea of cutting out some of the the worst affected sections and rejoining the remainder, but it would have required a dozen joins, and that would still have left some dodgy sections. So it went to the rubbish and a new one has been ordered. Without it I wouldn't pass a safety inspection, which the Coast Guard here do on an apparently frequent basis.

The next big hurdle is the bureaucracy. This is largely my own fault as I procrastinated a bit in getting the ball rolling. Basically the boat is currently in a bit of a legal limbo. Not the dancing limbo, the 'not  in a clearly defined place' kind of limbo. The previous owner had let the US registration (referred to as "being 'documented' with the Coast Guard") lapse a couple of years ago. So as far as the Coast Guard is concerned, the boat cannot be used (as a local boat). In order to use it here, I have to get a 'Cruising Permit' as a foreign vessel. To do so, I have to be able to show documents that it is, in fact, now a foreign vessel. To do that I have to be able to verify that it has Australian 'flag' entitlement. This requires that it be listed as an Australian Ship. In order to be listed, I have to provide a document from the US Coast Guard proving that the vessel has been deleted from their Register of Documented vessels. Well, you get the picture. It has been kicked off, but with time zones and what have you, it's taking some time.

I want to pause here and give a bunch of brownie points to the officer that I've been dealing with at the Australian Registration end. He's been really helpful, and patient with my endless questions. He invited me to send him copies of the forms that I had to fill out, before they were officially lodged so that he could offer advice on what might become a problem, which I did, and he did. (No, that does make sense, read it again) So to Peter B, Deputy Registrar of Ships, at AMSA, my thanks. This guy is doing what the Public Service is all about ... public service.

Another person that I have dealt with at this end also deserves some kudos. The broker that managed the sale of the boat for the vendor has been great, above and beyond his job description. Once the deal was done and signed off, he was quite entitled to say "Paper signed, commission paid, we're out of this". Instead he's been in touch just about every day asking if I need anything, offering the use of his discount card at the local yacht chandlers  (which has saved me well over $100 so far), driving me to the local shopping centre, and lots of good advice and contacts. Really glad I ended up dealing with him. David Q at Channel Island Yacht Brokerage, take a bow.

Anyway, while the paper trail has been being pursued, several boat projects of varying complexity have been undertaken. James has been applying Teak oil to the woodwork, which now looks great, and has also done several ad-hoc jobs I've thrown his way. A couple of electrical and plumbing issues have been resolved. I wont recite the whole list, but the prospect is that by mid-way through the coming week, we could be ready to do some sailing. Bureaucracy pending.

Budget is looking a wee bit stretched, but not catastrophic (yet!). Getting onto the boat instead of hotels and handing in the rental car has helped, but I'm still doing this on the bare minimum. Which is, curiously, somehow satisfying.The Shipping registration will be the next big hit, at somewhere around $1400 by the time it's completed, and then the shopping list goes on ... Solar panels, life raft, ... blah blah blah. But I'm living on my boat, getting ready to sail across an ocean. Life is good.

Gotta run, need to get some sleep so I can do some more work tomorrow. At some stage I plan to climb the mast to check out the light fittings and other stuff. Should be a hoot.

Later all.

W.

Time flies, doesn't it?

Well it's been several days since I was committed, and things got all kind of busy. The short version is that the sign over had to wait for the funds transfer (Curse you, inconvenient time zones!) but then went ahead without a hitch. I met the now-former owner and had a bit of a chat, but nothing that was particularly revealing, except that he is a former navy pilot, and the boat was named after the World War 2 vintage navy fighter of the same name. He seems a nice enough chap and asked me to email him the outcomes of the 'big trip'.

So we handed over our various bits of paper, and the broker handed me the key. Metaphorically, anyway, as the main hatch is actually secured with a combination lock. I had already booked our hotel accommodation through to the next day, which is just as well as it turns out that they wouldn't let us move in until I could provide evidence of insurance.

Now insurance is all well and good, and I had fully intended to get it. But it turns out that marinas over here don't just want to you to have insurance, they want to see evidence that the marina itself is included on the policy as 'co-insured'. Just what this means is a bit of mystery, but it's done. I'm still struggling with the idea that if you change marinas, the next one has to be individually added to your insurance policy. What if you were cruising through several? Seems a tad silly to me, but at least it didn't add anything to the cost.

So, we moved aboard on Thursday, 23rd February, shortly before lunch. (Local time.) Since then I have been running up and down the boat (not literally, of course) trying to get things working or replaced. At the same time I've started the process of getting the Australian Ship registration in place. I've purchased an autopilot, and a chart-plotter, a new anchor, and a pair of binoculars. To see things with, obviously.

What's that? Did I say 'we'? Why yes. I may or may not (I can't remember) have mentioned that my younger son has joined me for the project. So "I" should actually be read as "we" from now on, unless it's about doing something really clever, in which case it's just me.

So, items done ... replaced the macerator (the 'poo pump' I talked about last time);  managed to get the old and rusted in place navigation lights off both bow and stern and will get the new ones on tomorrow; flushed out the water tank with Chlorox several times so that it now seems drinkable as against the water being a weird green-brown colour with lumps in it as it was, (seems drinkable to me anyway, I think James still has reservations about, but I'm still walking around so I guess it's OK.) and ... stuff.

Weather has been delightful. Clear, sunny days mostly, though pretty cool at night. Not as cold as Canberra, but otherwise similar.

So, that'll do for now. James and I are sharing a single wireless broadband account here, so we do have connectivity for the next several weeks. I'll try to be a bit more forthcoming about the progress.

W.