avionbianca   Blog for s/v Avion

The ocean is so big that it seems empty at times, so it feels good to see land again. We came in from the south, to within sign of the islands of Hawaii. This was the first time I had seen the big island, Maui, Moloki and others. We still cannot see Oahu, but will soon.

The Pacific Cup is one of the top ten ocean races in the world. The course is over 2,000 miles, and in the middle, one is more than 1,000 miles from land in any direction. For me, the last day of this race is a bittersweet moment. I want to take a moment to observe some things I have learned on this trip about my boat, my crew and myself.

I am in tune with Avion at a much deeper level. Avion was designed by Paul Elfstrom, the first man to win Olympic goal metals in four consecutive Olympics, 1948 to 1960, in sailing, never mind any sport. He is from Denmark, so naturally he designed a racing boat that is fast, long and narrow and cuts through the water, and functionally comfortable down below. I knew what she wants to go faster. I hear her sounds, feel her movements, and respect her systems at a level where she is alive to me, a true partner.

I am have deep respect for my crew. Being short-handed crew of three, we have been on duty for 3 hour watches. This is a long time. On most fully crewed boats of 5 or six, the watch is limited to one hour, max. So, three hour watches are not easy; eyes get tired, the body gets cold, srms get sore. When David came up on deck in the middle of the night, dressed and fully prepared for the cold wind, with a smile, a relieves you, you feels a deep gratitude. Or when Megan came up on deck and offered to make some coffee, and came to sit with you for awhile, the feeling of gratitude is very deep. My crew on this trip are not all best friends; we have had our share of minor emotional events and dramas, as there always are when 3 people much spend two weeks together living and working in a small space. By holding down all your shifts, never complaining, cleaning up after yourself, preparing food for one another, the true character of a person is revealed.

There is the old Navy phrase, “One hand for yourself, one for the boat.” This is true on many levels. We must stay on the boat, so we can help to sail it. We must take care of ourselves first, so we can then be able to help others. We must take care of our gear and clothing, feed and hydrate ourselves, and clean our bodies so we can then go forth, and do our duties to others, to be a good crew mate. Without that, we are unhappy, sick, and unable to perform. So, just doing what is expected is a major accomplishment.

In temrs of myself, this is the third time I have done this race. The first time, in 2010, I just showed up at the last minute, and filled a sudden crew opening. I did it, and I did my duty, and we finished third in our division, and I had the bug. BBut I did not truly appreciate how hard it was, or how much preparation was required to get a boat or oneself ready for such en event. In 2014, I worked over two years to prepare my boat and develop a crew of 5 to sail with me (six total). I could not have done it without the incredible commitment each of those 5 guys made to the program. We became a team, and had fun.

In 2016, I signed-up in December, and was put on the wait list until May, but I got a head start on the assumption that I would get to go. When the call came, Avion was ready with a new engine, cooler converted to refrigerator, new rudder bearings, new bottom paint, and new autopilot. However, my crew had wandered-off to other activities, had new work and family obligations, or in general, so were no longer available. The only potential crew was my new girlfriend, Megan. As a boat owner and cruising sailor, she was interested; to her credit, she was not afraid. However, sailing a 40 foot, technical boat like Avion short-handed required a lot of time and practice. Since we are both retired, we had the time, we started to sail frequently around the greater SFBay region. We brought in several people to coach us on advanced skills like spinnakers, and made a lot of progress. We considered bringing in another couple to join us, or another make and female crew, to keep a balance, but it was too late to bring in any others. We did however, find a good coach, David Bennett, who had done the Transpac eight times; he knew what we needed, and was very effective at breaking down sailing maneuvers for short-handed crew. We decided we wanted to sail double-handed, but having three crew would be the best option, the third crew would bring more energy, more experience, be another hand on deck; and in David’s case, bring deep Coast Guard training. He eventually signed-up to sail with us. He has been an incredible sailing partner, fearless and while it is hard to admit, we could not have done this trip without him.

In summary, I have learned that being the Captain and Skipper of a short-handed boat means that almost everything comes back to me. I sometimes got stressed when I wish I should have cracked a joke. I sometimes got tired, but I recovered quickly. I trust my boat under heavy weather conditions. I made good investments in the boat, the equipment and systems held-up, and worked as expected, and if not, I knew how to fix the issues that emerged. So, I have learned that I can do this, can go long-distance sailing on the ocean. Megan and I have discussed staying in Hawaii for awhile, to sail, discover and explore together. The only limitation is our imagination.

There will be more to come, as we are still sailing. We have called in the 100 mile check-in. We are currently about 60 miles away as the crow flies. We are sailing on a realistic course to stay in the wind, so we can finish today.

I have not been able to access this blog while sailing, so I can only hope it is readable. I will find out once on land with an internet connection. Thanks for following along in this journey. Tom

It is hard to type on a boat that is moving at 8 knots.
Please excuse the typo in the heading of the previous posting. Tom

This is a race, and we will finish. There is no sign of the tropical depression as we have come in behind to it. For the past three days we have enjoyed the deep blue of the ocean, sparking with sunlight. The boat is cruising along at 7 to 9 knots in 18 knots of wind with the Jib Top and one reef in the main. The boat is now on Island time.

We are evaluating our approach options. The latest projection by Expedition puts us 24 hours from the finish line, with 200 miles to go. We are trying to be realistic about the courses we can hold.

I am glad we are looking at a day time arrival at 6:30 pm, in 10 knots of wind. At least we will have wind and be able to see the finish line, as distinct from the finish in 2014, when there was no wind and the finish line had been blown away in a storm the previous day.

It is hard to be philosophical after 12 days of sailing hard, so I will say that I am looking forward to a Mai Tai at the dock in Kaneohe Bay Yacht Club. More to come.

My current strategy for Avion’s arrival in Kaneohe is as follows:

1. Avion is currently 540 miles from Kaneohe.
2. We are able to hold a heading of roughly 250 mag. We are getting winds of 18 to 22 knots, and maintaining an average boat speed of 7.3 knots.
3. Expedition is projecting arrival in 2 days 18 hours from now (Friday at 10:30 AM), which is Monday morning at 4:00am.

Comments:
–The worst of Darby should pass in front of us.
–I know 4:00 AM arrival is not great timing, but so be it. It is still just a projection.
–Avion is a 40 foot boat, we should be able to handle rough weather.
–I would like to know as much as possible about the winds and sea state
–Race Committee has removed all restrictions from accessing commercial weather. They are sending Commander’s Weather updates via email.
–So, I will have access to the best information available before making the final approach.

Stay tuned. There will be more to come…

Several days ago, we learned we were in last place in our division. My crew was surprised but still competitive. We still wanted to do our best, drive the boat fast and try to at least be not last. Now, with the latest weather information on hand, my opinion is, screw the race altogether. Yees, we are in a race, but it is just a game we sailors play, it is nothing compared to my responsibility to bring my boat and crew into Oahu safely.

I had been thinking we might be able to beat the remnants of Darby to HA, but that is no longer the case. It will land as a tropical depression on Saturday, and will bounce off the big island to the north west as we approach. So, maybe we slow down and take our time, and let this weather event clear, even if it leaves light winds in its wake. Even if it means we are finish last.

My motivations for doing this race was to sail to Hawaii shorthanded, with my girlfriend, and take full ownership of every detail of preparing, managing and sailing my boat. The race is a structure, a context, an event for achieving this goal. I will achieve this goal by finishing the race with no equipment failures and no injuries.

Megan is holding her own, and David is in his element, and I am happy to be doing (not just talking). We are doing very well as a crew, given that wee came together late in the process.

We are sailing to the south, taking what the wind gives us, and monitoring the weather closely. We have the food, water and fuel to adjust to the conditions. Stay tuned. More to come.

Sailing with a crew of three, every second counts. The most important task is driving the boat, as there is no stopping. We are doing 3 hour shifts, starting with me at 3-6pm, David 6-9, Megan 9-12, Tom 12-3, David 3-6, and Megan 6-9am. The rest of the time is flexible, based on personal needs, boat projects, and spontaneous events. We evolved into the structure to make sure we each get enough sleep. We are tending toward a big lunch that we try to each together, but eat breakfast and lunch based on who is inspired to prepare and share something.

Since we started heading south, we have been making pretty good time. The driver does what he or she needs to do to control the boat and keep it going in approximately 180 degrees, and the people down below hang on as they are bounced around. Sleeping is easy. Cooking is not so easy. Making coffee is dangerous.

The sun came out yesterday and illuminated the water with an incredible, rich, royal, aqua blue. There is really no word for this color. It is captivating, fascinating and mesmerizing; I can look at it as the surface pulses with wave energy.

The big event yesterday was catching a fish. A Dorado, pretty sblue and yellow, turning to green. Megan is the best fisher person on board, so she and I cleaned it up and cut big hunks of meat for the refrig. I made cerveche for the evening dinner.

I am of course concerned about the weather. We will turn for our final approach to Hawaii around 5:00 pm today. I hope we can drive fast enough to get into Ohau before the next tropical depression hits on Monday. We might be in last place, but we are now in a race with the weather. I need to get the latest GRIB files now. More to come.

The Paccific Cup is popular is a downwind race, where sailors get to fly spinnakers. Our time to launch a spinnaker came yesterday morning. We tried to launch the S4 yesterday but it did not go according to plan. The S4 is a smaller symmetrical spinnaker made of one and a half ounce material for heavy weather. We knew it would be a challenge to control once we got it up, because of the wild and rather confused sea state, but we wanted this sail so we could sail a heading more directly toward Hawaii. We took our time in preparing to launch the S4, as it has many moving parts, guys and sheets, and a pole. We set up deliberately for a starboard pole, where the spinnaker itself is set on the port, or left side of the bow. With just three crew, each crew has a crucial role to perform; one must drive, one run the lines from the cockpit, and one run the mast and bow. So, Megan was driving, Tom was in the cockpit, and David was on the bow.

We started to hoist the sail, which should be done quickly, and awhjen about half of the sail was up, the halyard got struck, and we could all see that the sail bag was lifted off the deck, tangled up with the jib sheets. David had to stop hoisting, and go over to try to free the sail bag. But in the instant between freeing the line from the bag, and jumping back to tart hoisting again, the spinnaker collapsed and fell into the water. Once this happened, the boat stopped moving, and the rest of the sail was dragged into the water, along with all the lines.

In an instant, everything had changed, and the sail had become a sea anchor. We tried to pull it back into the boat, but the lines were all under great tension, so we considered if we would need to cut them. I keep a big knife in the cockpit for emergencies like this, but I did not want to use it yet. The boat was not in danger, and we needed the halyard, sheets and guys to sail to Hawaii. I noticed that between the boat and the new sea anchor, there were moments where the lines relaxed slightly between waves, and I called for us to all pull the lines during those moments. Slowly but surely, hand over hand, the sail started to come to the boat. Firsst we pulled the lines, and then we were able to get our hands on sail and pull it, foot by foot, back onto the boat. We finally got all of it back onboard. We disconnected the lines and gear, and examined the sail. It was ripped and useless, beyond repair. I remembered that this was the spinnaker that Megan and I had first flown together, but I decided to donate it to the ocean, and we threw it overboard and got the boat moving again, under the main sail alone.

We started debating the our options. Avion carries five spinnakers and three jibs, so we still had plenty of choices. We settled on a sail plan with the lowest center of effort, a poled-out jib top, with one reef in the main. The jib top was already on deck, so we set it up the pole, and quickly raised the jib top. The boat immediately started moving 3 knots faster, and she stabilized as her keel dug deep into the water. We had survived a dangerous situation and the only loss was a sail that cost $2,000. Oh well, we were underway again, and that was all the mattered. We could sail at an average of 7 knots for the next four or five days, depending upon the wind.

Stay tuned. More to come.
Please excuse any typos, this was written while underway.
Tom

Avion is a joy to sail. The sky is grey, but the temperature is mild. We are close to half way, and will reach that point either today or tomorrow. Today might be a good day to put up the sun shower and wash our hair.

The ocean is beautiful, undulating and full of energy. The wave pattern is choppy, with swells from several directions each cutting through each other. The wind is still 18 to 24 knots, but when it drops in strength it also changes direction. The result was that we sailed conservatively yesterday. We did switch over to the Jib Top; however, while it gave us mower power and speed, the apparent wind window for the sail is limited to 100 to 120, so we were not heading for Hawaii. However, we are setting up for the small symmetrical spinnaker and will then go downwind for Hawaii.

We saw and spoke to another boat yesterday, One Eyed Jack. The skipper and I both were both happy to see another boat. We also both expressed concern about the Hurricane (or Tropical Depressions) that are down around Hawaii now. The skipper of One Eye Jack said the first one will pass, but the second one might get there about the same time we do, with 35 knot winds. We can handle that. However, I hope it is not much more than that.

More to come. Stay tuned.

As I write, Megan is cooking a hot dinner. She tells me it is easier to cook when the boat is flat. Over the past few days, cooking was almost impossible, althought she did make us a hot dinner last night as well. Hot food in the tummy feels so good, and confirms that we are living the old saying, “sail, eat sleep.”

Today has been warm enough to shake the wet foulies, take towel-showers and put on clean dry clothes. The sun came out for awhile, and dried out the boat. I cooked bacon and eggs for my crew. Clouds filled in during the afternoon, but it stayed warm and windy, in the 18 to 24 knot range. We have been sailing with the A7, the small, heavy weather blue asymmetrical sail, and hitting speeds over ground on steady 9 knots, and when the ocean swells round underneath the boat and pushes her on the hip, she surges up to 10 to 12 knots. It gets quite exciting when there is a sudden gust of wind, and a big wave surges and lifts the aft up and the rudder looses it’s bite, and we with a lot of sudden pressure on the helm, she will round-up. Avion is resilient and always recovers, with lots of pumping of the tiller by the driver, and perhaps a release of the spinnaker sheet. It is exciting sailing, with every moment being unique.

We are dialing in the boat systems and routines. She was kind of wet, and we had to dry out clothes and various wet spots, but now she is dry again and feels good. I rand the batteries down too low yesterday, and at some point, the instruments start displaying wierdly inaccurate numbers. I had seem this once before, so I knew the cause and the solution. Fired up the engines and ran the alternator for 2 hours to resolve it.

We have decided to switch back to the #4 jib around 8pm, and then next question is do we gybe tonight or tomorrow morning. Such important decision deserve lots of discussion. We all like to go fast, but it would also feel good to get back on a course heading in the general direction of Hawaii. This is where the finish line awaits us. But I must say, in some ways, this kind of amazing ocean sailing is the real finish line. Stay tuned.

We are less the 50 miles from the 130W line, which is a major reference point for our navigation decisions. The weather is rough, we are pushing the boat and getting 7 to 8 knots, with 20 to 24 knot winds. Yesterday the sea surface smoothed out and we had nice big rollers coming through that gave us a nice push forward. In the first 48 hours, we have come about 333 miles so far, or about 160 miles per day. We are sending in our 8:00 am position report, but we are not yet making the 9:30 roll-call over the SSB radio, as it is still too rough and wet to leave a hatch open for the SSB antenna.

I am getting GRIB files over Iridium, and analyzing them twice a day. David and I have consensus on our course heading, which has been to stay around 240; but this afternoon around 5, we will change that and head more south.

Crew are all working smoothly together and getting enough sleep, for now. We are each rather wet, but the foul weather gear with Gortext is magically able to keep the water on he surface, so we are mostly dry on the skin. A crew of three needs to talk a lot, as we make adjustments to the watch schedule on the fly, and we are doing that as needed. The boat has one wet spot around the hatch, which I was new to me, but now I understand the pattern; it is only wet when a big wave splashes up and over the boat.

Well, enough for now. Stay tuned. We are only just beginning. Tom