Below is information from past newsletters that we felt would be usefull information to leave on our website for our sailors :

Cell Phones vs. VHF radios

Every Pacific Yachting boat is equipped with a VHF radio. In the best of conditions, your VHF may be heard up to 20 miles. Realistically, however, the range is only about 7-10 miles. A cellular phone works great on a boat. If you have one, we highly recommend that you bring it with you. A cell phone has much greater range you can speak as you would in a normal telephone conversation.

When using the VHF radio, please use proper radio etiquette.

Turn It On and Leave It On
Technically, you're supposed to monitor channel 16 at all times, not just for your safety but to be able to provide aid to other boaters. This is also a good way to keep informed of weather and sea conditions. Learn to use the "squelch" function to keep the static to a minimum. If you hear a Coast Guard announcement that there is important information being broadcast on channel 22A, tune it in

Use The Right Channel
Channel 16 is the emergency and hailing channel. Channel 16 is for hailing or emergency use ONLY. DO NOT USE CHANNEL 16 FOR A RADIO CHECK-USE CHANNEL 9 OR 68. This isn't CB radio where you chat on whatever channel you want. Use 16 to contact a vessel or shore station and then move your conversation to a non-commercial "working" channel. Working channels are 68, 69, 71, 72, and 78 (72 is for ship-to-ship traffic only).

Talk The Talk
On channel 16, say the name of the station (boat, marina, etc.) you're calling to three times, then say "this is" followed by your station name (your call sign or your boat's name) once followed by "over". Calls are answered the same way. Once you've been answered, ask the station to switch to a working channel (one you've monitored to make sure you won't interrupt a conversation), followed by "over".

Keep It Short
When you receive confirmation, switch to the new channel, repeat the call and continue the conversation. A VHF isn't a cell phone, so don't yammer away about what you had for dinner last night. Keep your conversation brief and to the point, even on working channels.

Keep It Clean
Once you have moved your conversation to a working channel, it does NOT mean it's now a private conversation. Anyone and everyone within range can listen in, so think twice and speak once. And the radio is NOT a toy, so don't let anybody play with it. It's actually a felony to interfere with emergency broadcasts, not to mention potentially life-threatening ones.

As an example, let's say you want to contact Vessel Assist. Here's how to do it:
1. Adjust the squelch and set the volume at about half way.
2. On Channel 16, LISTEN before calling to be sure there is no one else using the channel.
3. Speak clearly, and repeat three times, " Vessel Assist, Vessel Assist, Vessel Assist, this is vessel "Summer" on channel 16, do you copy?"
4. Wait for a reply. If no response, wait 1 minute and try again. If still no response, wait one minute before retrying. This allows other traffic on the channel to proceed.
5. When Vessel Assist answers, they will ask you to switch to a working channel, probably Channel 68.
6. Switch to the requested channel and hail as you did originally. When Vessel Assist answers, explain your situation. Hopefully you have been a prudent navigator and can relay your latitude and longitude coordinates. Failing that, describe your position relative to known landmarks, for example, 1 mile south of Soquel point, etc. etc This will be helpful. Almost all of the Pacific Yachting boats have a GPS. Giving them the exact lat/lon is ideal.
7. Every time you've finished a communication, you need to say "over". When you're completely finished with your conversation, you need to say, "This is Summer clear on Channel 68, switching to Channel 16."
Mike's in Europe

Mike McGrath took sailing lessons with us at Pacific Yachting over 5 years ago. I believe he might have had some past sailing experience with that New England accent of his. That's just a guess. I never asked him. He took our complete series of courses, became certified to Bareboat here, and chartered numerous times. He then befriended one of our Captains and started to crew on some local race boats.

The next thing I hear is that he's finally going to retire. Well he did. Currently, Mike and his friend Rose are in Europe picking up their brand new 47-foot Cantana Catamaran to go cruising. Their plans are to cruise the Med, visiting Corsica, Malta, Sardina, the Canary Islands as well as the Greek Islands until November. Then they plan to bring the boat back to Florida. For the winter they sail to the Caribbean and then late spring they plan to spend the summer in Chesapeake Bay. I definitely feel a twinge of envy but know that it's possible for us all to take that similar path. You just have to do it.

Check out their web page to follow this exciting trip
http://home.sprynet.com/~rosec

Plastic Stowage Boxes and Boat Instructions

Every Pacific Yachting boat will have a large plastic box onboard in which will be stowed flares, horn, first aid kit, winch handles, manual bilge pump handle, a flashlight and small tool kit. Please return all items to these plastic boxes after every sail.

Also, on the top every chart table there will be a laminated sheet that will give you directions about the vessel you are on. It will have the location of the thru-hulls and engine oil dipstick, where the transmission shifter cable attaches to the transmission, as well as other instructions on how to operate the vessel. Please return this laminated sheet to the top of the chart table before you depart the boat after your sail.

Pre & Post Cruise Check-out forms

Please use the pre- & post-cruise checkout forms and be 100% honest about checking everything off after you've found it or tried it. You'll find it's much easier to do all of these things before departure rather than calling the office from the boat asking where things are, how to do something, etc. You'd be surprised how often this happens.

A common thing sailor's check off on the sheet without really checking thoroughly is the anchor; where it is, how to deploy it in a hurry, etc. It's always amusing getting that radio call from a charterer that has checked off winch handles on the pre-cruise sitting on my desk and they ask desperately where they are.

Fuel Money (Bareboat Charterers) and & Parking Permits

If you Bareboat charter, we give you one master parking permit, which you are required to return to our mailbox, placing it in the plastic pouch. Please remember to return it. If you have additional cars in your party, they can purchase the $5.00 all-day meter permits we pre-purchase from the Santa Cruz Port.

At the end of the day, Bareboat charterers are required to put the permit, fuel reimbursement money, and your honestly filled out post-cruise sheet back in the pouch in the mailbox on the side of the Pacific Yachting Office. Often, I get the pouch with the permit and post-cruise but no fuel reimbursement money. This is on an honesty basis. Even if you've used the engine just to leave the slip & return, you are using fuel. The only way we can avoid placing a flat fee charge for fuel on every charter is if each charterer is conscientious about reimbursing us for fuel they've used.

Emptying the Holding Tank

If you're out 3 miles and anyone has used the head, please go below, open the holding tank thru-hull and hit the macerator switch for about 5 minutes. It's a good idea to pump the head while the macerator is running (until the last couple of minutes) because the infusion of water helps clean it out. (Even if no one in your party has used the head, we'd appreciate it if you'd empty the holding tank as a courtesy to the next charterer-Thanks!).

If you don't know how to work the macerator or where the thru-hull is, please ask the Pacific Yachting staff. You'll also find directions on the laminated direction sheet on top of the chart table.

Reefing is not a city in China

Yep, here's my annual lecture on Reefing. Spring can bring with it some howling, great winds. All of the Pacific Yachting boats have the ability to sail in winds up to 30 knots. Above 30 knots, please take all sails down and come in. You'll get a refund.

Why so many sailors push a boat to heel excessively is beyond me. The increased drag causes the boat to slow down and creates excessive weather helm. You may have one macho friend that enjoys it but everyone else onboard is trying to defy gravity as the people on the windward side get further away from the water and the people on the leeward side start to get inches from the water; your spouse is yelling, "I'm never sailing again", every one's wet, etc. The prudent sailor (i.e., one who wants company the next time he/she goes sailing) reefs early and deep-"The time to reef is when you first think about it".

Here's my moderately conservative reefing guidelines (modify for the sailing characteristics of the individual boat. The goal is to BALANCE the sail plan so the boat sail efficiently without excessive weather helm):

Under 15 knots-full main and full jib or 2/3rds jib
15-19 knots- 1st reef in the main/ 50% to 2/3rds
20-24 knots- 2nd reef in main/ 30% to 50% jib
25-29 knots - 2nd reef in main or no main/50% or no jib
30 + knots- TIME TO DOUSE ALL SAIL AND HEAD FOR THE DOCKS!

You need Competent Crew

Ok, many of you need to send your family members or friends through the Pacific Yachting Sailing School. More than making an extra buck or two on our end, your safety and our boats well being is even more important.

We don't and won't allow machismo sailors to take out grandma, the kids, and wife Betty without a competent crew. You may think you'll do OK politely asking them from the wheel, "please pull the port jib sheet in." But, after they look at you in bewilderment, the jib is luffing profusely and you yell, "Pull that f. g white rope over there, now", you realize you were a jerk and they have seen a side of you that they never knew existed. So please abide by the Pacific Yachting rules- you must have another competent sailor (having taken our Basic Sailing and Seamanship course is fine) onboard to take out any of the Pacific Yachting boats, no exceptions.

The Pacific Yachting Crew List

If you are Bareboat Certified and want to take out Grandma, the children, and wife Betty, use our Crew List. Just go to our web site (www.pacificsail.com), scroll down to Crew List and send us an e-mail similar to the example on the crew list section of our web site. It works. No excuses that you couldn't get a competent crew to go along.

Spinnaker Classes Basic/Advanced

Again this season, we'll be offering our very popular Spinnaker class. This course covers: the mechanics of rigging the boat, crew organization and tasks, hoisting-trimming-dousing the spinnaker, safety positions and decision making for spinnaker users.

Each day begins with dockside instruction and closes with an afternoon of practice. Please send us an e-mail if you're interested and we will contact you shortly with some dates.

Classes

Our 4 courses from Basic to Bareboat are continually on the schedule for the winter months. Weather can cancel classes but we try to reschedule as soon as the coast is clear.

If you do not want to receive this e-mail newsletter from Pacific Yachting & Sailing please go to our web site at http://www.pacificsail.com. On the top the front page below our e-mail address it says: Click here to join the Pacific Yachting and Sailing Mailing List! Please delete your e-mail address in the designated section. If you have a friend or sailor that may be interested in our school and sailing programs, please go to that same section and subscribe them.

Anchoring

This may be a good opportunity to actually practice anchoring. Please don't anchor where the moorings are in Capitola. There's a possibility your anchor could getcaught up on the mooring at the bottom. You can anchor on the other side of the Capitola wharf or further down a bit towards the cement ship for a short period only.

Please Note Regarding Holding Ground:

Most places along our stretch of the coast, from Santa Cruz Point to Monterey, do not have very good holding ground for anchoring. A couple of exceptions are either side of the Santa Cruz Wharf or the Capitola Wharf. The waves pound the sand continually, compacting it and making it difficult for the anchor's flukes to dig in properly. Please make sure never to anchor too close to a lee shore or too close to any shore for that matter.

Here's a refresher on setting up, deploying and retrieving the anchor (also, review the section on "Anchoring" in Cruising Fundamentals):

* Setting Up

1. On boats without an anchor windless (like most of the boats in our fleet), pull the anchor and rode completely out of the anchor locker before deploying (if fitted with an electric windlass you don't need to do this). Make sure all the kinks are out of the rope rode so that it will pay out freely without jamming on anything. The easiest time to do this is prior to leaving the dock, as part of your pre-cruise preparations.

2. Make sure the bitter end is tied to the boat. The best place for this is to a padeye inside the anchor locker. If not, secure it to one of the bow cleats with a bowline knot.

3. Return the rode to the anchor locker. Remember to put the rope rode in first, then the chain rode and lastly the anchor on top of the pile of rode. To make sure the rode remains free of kinks when its deployed, lay it in the bottom of the anchor locker in large, lazy figure eights.

4. Check the nautical chart for the depth of water where you'll be anchoring. Set up the anchor rode so that you are ready to let out 7 to 10 times the depth. If the rode is not marked (many of our boats are not so marked) an easy way to determine how much rode to deploy is as follows:

* Convert the length you'll need from feet into fathoms (1 fathom = 6 feet). On the side deck, lay out approximately six-foot lengths of rode in the number you'll need to deploy. For example, the depth of water is 20 feet; the distance from the boat's bow to the water line is 4 feet, a total of 24 feet of depth (always include the height of the bow off the waterline in your depth calculations). Seven times 24 (7 to 1 scope) = 168 feet. Divide 168 by 6 and you'll need 28 fathoms of rode to achieve a 7 to 1 scope. Lay out 28, six-foot lengths on the side deck. Cleat off the rode at this point to the bow cleat. Put the rode back in the anchor locker (make sure the bitter end runs fair under the anchor locker lid). Now you know exactly how much rode to pay out. REMEMBER, if you're unsure of how much rope to deploy, more rode is better than less!

5. Before reaching the anchorage, the bow person and helmsperson should agree on hand signals to communicate. This will make the anchoring drill go much more smoothly and is much more efficient than hollering back and forth from the bow to the cockpit (plus, you'll impress others in the anchorage with your calm, organized approach to anchoring). The signals you'll want to determine are a) forward, b) reverse and, c) neutral.

* Deploying

1. When handling the anchor, whether deploying or retrieving, remember to protect your lower back-bend at the knees, tighten your abdominal muscles and keep your lower back straight. Anchors are heavy and aukward to handle both factors which increase the risk of muscle strain. When you are ready to deploy the anchor, the boat should be head-to-wind, in neutral gear and virtually dead in the water.

2. The bow person slowly, hand-over-hand, lowers the anchor off of the bow roller or through the forward chock (REMEMBER, never throw the anchor over. This is dangerous and when the anchor hits the water it can tumble and catch the chain rode in the flukes, preventing the anchor from setting). Signal the helmsperson to go in reverse for 10 seconds and then back to neutral. Continue to pay out rode until approximately 2/3rd of the rode has been deployed. If the bow of the boat blows off the wind, as sometimes happens in stronger winds, simply snub the rode on the bow cleat. This will pull the bow back into the wind and you can then continue paying out rode.

3. Once you've paid out 2/3rd of the rode, snub the rode on the bow cleat and signal the helmsperson to go into reverse and increase the throttle just a bit. The slack will go out of the rode and the anchor will begin to set. Watch the rode. If the rode is bouncing up and down (called "chatter") the anchor is not set. When the anchor is set, you'll see and can feel a steady pull without any chatter in the rode.

4. Once the anchor is set, signal the helmsperson to go into neutral and pay out the remainder of the pre-determined length of rode. You may need to signal the helmsperson to go into reverse from time to time. Once all the rode is out, have the helmsperson go into reverse and increase the throttle. If the anchor is set, once the slack is out of the rode the boat should not back up any more. As a matter of a fact, when the engine is put in neutral the boat will actually bounce forward a bit due to the flexibility of the rope rode.

5. Before you jump off the boat and go ashore for that refreshing beverage or lunch, watch the boat for a while. Let the boat settle down. Take visual bearings on buildings or other landmarks. Ensure that the boat is staying in relatively the same place. If the bearings change, you're dragging anchor!

6. Most of the time, you'll be successful the first time. Sometimes, however, the anchor will drag. If this happens, first try letting out more scope; maybe 10 to 1. If this doesn't work, you'll need to raise the anchor and try again in a different location within the anchorage. Don't fret. It happens to everyone and, it's good practice!

* Retreiving

1. Just as in deploying, pulling up the anchor should be a slow and deliberate operation. When the bow person is ready to retrieve the anchor, signal the
helmsperson to put the vessel in forward for 10-second increments. As the vessel moves forward, the bow person pulls in the slack in the anchor rode and stows it on deck. REMEMBER, you are using the momentum of boat to approach the anchor, NOT pulling the boat up to the anchor (very bad on the back)! The safest way to retreive and stow the anchor rode is with the anchor locker lid CLOSED. Once the rode and anchor are aboard, open the locker and stow the ground tackle.

2. The helmsperson cannot see the anchor rode from the wheel. So, again, the use of hand signals is important. Ideally, a third crew will be giving hand signals from the foredeck while the bow person is hauling in the rode. If there are just two of you, the bow person has to do double duty. Whoever is giving the signals needs to let the helmsperson know when to slow down (if the boat goes too fast in forward it can run over the rode and get it caught around the keel or, worse yet, around the prop), and which direction to head for the anchor.

3. Once the bow is directly over the anchor and all the slack is out of the rode, wrap the chain or rope rode around the bow cleat. If the anchor does not readily break free, don't try to "muscle" it up-you can hurt yourself. Signal the helmsperson to go into forward and slowly increase the throttle. This should break the anchor out of the bottom. When you feel slack come into the rode, continue pulling the anchor up until you can grap it and pull it on deck (remember to protect that lower back). Please be careful not to knock the bow gel coat with the sharp fluke of the anchor. That's it. Oh, also it's good karma to neatly coil the anchor rode back in the anchor locker as well.

Ocean swell

This time of year we can get days so clear it seems like you could throw a rock over to Monterey. The seas are calm and the winds range from 10-20 knots. However, there are also times when the harbor entrance shoals and fairly large swells can be breaking across it. It is prudent to check on the condition of the harbor entrance before departing on your sail. Check with the office staff or the Harbor Master's Office for an update or, take a nice walk out to the end of the West jetty and see for yourself (while you're there, check out the progress on the new lighthouse). We wouldn't allow you to go sailing if it looks dangerous.

While making your way out of the harbor, raise the mainsail (we always recommend having your main up exiting and returning to the harbor to increase boat speed and control and as a precaution should your engine ever fail), stay as far to the right as possible, observe the entrance and, if a swell is running, try to time your exit between sets of waves (waves come in sets, usually 5-8 at a time, with periods between sets). Should you arrive at the entrance during a set, slowly motor in circles within the channel until there is a lull between sets, then exit (be sure to sheet your main in to prevent an accidental jibe as you're circling).

When you've decided the time is right, throttle up, trim the mainsail, and set a course for 30 to 40 degrees to the face of the swells. "Quartering" the swells will prevent the boat from pitching up and down off the back of the wave ("hobby horsing"), reducing the possibility of lifting the propellor out of the water, and will keep the boat speed up-all important when making your way over swells. Remember to have all crew SIT DOWN and HOLD ON! Once you're well clear of the swell line (sometimes 100 to 200 yards off the entrance), throttle back, raise or unfurl the jib, shut down the "iron genny" and GO SAILING!

When returning to the harbor, start the engine at least 1/2 mile out. If the engine won't start, now's the time to find out, not when you're in the middle of the entrance with breaking waves on your stern. You'll have the opportunity to tack or jibe around, away from the harbor entrance and stand off until Vessel Assist or the Harbor Patrol can give you a tow in.

When beginning your approach, assign one crew the responsibility of looking astern for swells. The crew and helmsperson should be in virtually constant communication regarding the height and frequency of the swells not only astern but at the harbor entrance as well. As in your departure from the harbor, you're goal here is to enter the harbor BETWEEN sets of swells or, at the least on the back of one of the smaller swells of the set. Timing is fairly critical here. Displacement sailboats DO NOT like to surf down the face of a breaking wave. The rudder loses its "grip" on the water and the boat broaches (turns beam to the waves) and everybody gets wet-Not a fun way to end your pleasant day sailing. Just as in exiting, you can circle 100 yards or so outside the harbor entrance, timing the swells and wait for a break before beginning your entrance. Remember, don't be in a hurry to get back into the harbor. Patience is a verture in this situation. You'll be safe standing off. Once you've decided to go for it, try to match your boat speed to that of the swells and enter behind the breaking wave.

Please stay away from the coast while sailing. Although, the swell may seem small out on the Monterey Bay, close to shore they can build up and break out in locations that they didn't during the summer.

Securing Boats

Most of our charterers are doing a great job of properly securing the boats at the end of the sail. This becomes even more important during the fall and winter months when the harbor can experience strong surge due to storms offshore. The surge really moves the boats around in their slips and puts added loads on dock lines and increases chafe on both lines and boat cleats. So, here's a refresher on how to properly secure the vessel after your sail.

There are two sets of lines used to secure the boat to the dock-"bow" and "stern" lines, which secure the bow and stern, respectively, keeping the boat parallel to the dock; and, "spring" lines which keep the boat from moving forward and aft in the slip. Both sets of lines need to be properly rigged to secure the boat.

1. Once in the slip, or at the end tie, adjust the bow and stern lines so that the boat is lying parallel to the side of the dock. It's common to find a boat with the bow pulled in much too close to the dock and the stern too far away. To help get the boat lying parallel, visualize a line cutting through the boat at the beam from port to starboard. This line should form a 90* angle with the dock. Stand well in front of the boat where you can better see the alignment and direct your crew to adjust the bow and stern lines until you've achieved this 90* angle. Secure the bow and stern lines to the dock cleats with a cleat hitch (refer to Sailing Fundamentals or Cruising Fundamentals to review the proper way to tie a cleat hitch).

2. Now, for the spring lines. These are the most critical lines for combating the "dark side" of the surge force. Most of the boats in the PY&S fleet have continuous dock lines which serve as both bow/stern lines and spring lines. Once the bow and stern lines are cleated, run a turn under the dock cleat before leading it forward or aft to secure to the boat as the spring lines (this turn under the cleat will prevent your nice neat cleat hitch from pulling off the cleat). Now, where do we attach the spring lines to the boat? Ideally, we'd lead the line to a mid-ship cleat on the boat's sidedeck and secure it with a cleat hitch. Unfortunately, most of our boats don't have mid-ship cleats. So, the next best place is to the chainplates (those big hunks of stainless steel sticking up out of the sidedeck to which the shrouds are attached). Use a round turn and two half hitches (again, check Sailing or Cruising Fundamentals for the proper way to tie this knot) to secure both the forward and aft spring lines. And, what's the part of the boat we NEVER tie the spring lines to? Right, the stanchions! Stanchions are not made to withstand the loads produced by the boat moving forward and aft. The bases will loosen allowing water to find its way into the deck's core, or the stanchion will bend or pull out of the deck-all very bad things!

3. Lastly, let's make sure the fenders are in the right place and are secured properly. Fenders should be placed at or near the beam of the boat. If the boat is tied up parallel to the dock (remember how we were very careful to adjust the boat's orientation to the dock a couple of paragraphs ago?) the beam of the boat is where it will make contact. Typically, two or three fenders are attached to the boat, two-to-three feet apart along the beam. The fenders should be adjusted so that the top of the fender is about three-to-four inches above the edge of the dock. Now, where to tie these guys?
Rather than tying the fender line to the bear lifeline, try to find a stanchion close to where you want to position the fenders. Lead the fender line around the top of the stanchion and tie a clove hitch around the lifeline on one side of the stanchion. This way the stanchion is taking most of the load rather than the lifeline itself. Your knot will stay tight and the fender will stay at the proper height.
4. By following these simple guidelines you'll help reduce the wear and tear on boats and docklines and, you'll be the envy of other charterers by exhibiting good
seamanship.

Queasy no More

Worn on the inner wrist, the nausea-quelling ReliefBand ($60.00; www.reliefband.com) helps avert motion sickness by emitting gentle electrical signals thet interfere with nerves that cause nausea. It's reusable and side effect free. We've heard it works great.

The Gulfstream in the Winter

THE ROMANCE OF THE GULFSTREAM IN WINTER By Marc Kraft

"To follow the road to Nirvana, it is analogous to climbing up many steep, narrow, and jagged mountain ridges while it's storming. You wind back and forth and at times it may seem like you will never get to where you are heading, continually getting knocked down along the way. If, when following this road, it was sunny, flat, and perfectly straight, there would be no Nirvana to reach..."
A Vietnamese Buddhist Monk

Many years ago I took a break from college and my job with the intent to challenge the USCG Captain's License. Having this license would permit me to take out passengers for hire on larger yachts. I had been instructing and skippering small boats most of my younger life. Fortunately, I was offered a scholarship to Crawford Nautical in San Francisco to prepare me for the Coast Guard License. After many hours of committed studying leading to taking the challenging exams, I passed. The Coast Guard License is also called a ticket, which can help get you a job worldwide.
Winter in Northern California is not the best place to be a Skipper, so I hopped in my beat up convertible Karmen Ghia that resembled a WWII fighter plane after many battles, and drove straight across the country to Florida. I took the southern route in 3 days with the top down most of the way.
Within a week, I was hired as a Skipper out of Ft. Lauderdale, Florida to take people to the Bahamas and the Florida Keys. Most of the skippers back then didn't have the Coast Guard License, and some had an attitude towards those that did: " It was just a glorified credential." The other skippers had far more time at sea then I had. That winter, I learned more than I'd ever imagined about being at sea and skippering.
I really didn't know what I was getting into. My fears of docking (back there it's just pilings, no floating slips) and navigating, caused me to really study up, now that I was going to be a skipper in a new area. I felt they hired me a little too easily. I really hadn't spent too much time docking a 43-55 foot boats, single-handed, between pilings before. I had never navigated across any open ocean segment either, especially with variable currents. I figured I'd just simulate it the best that I could.
As the winter proceeded, I would always offer the charterers' instruction as a free addition to their week long vacations. I was actually teaching and confirming the skills to myself. At times I felt challenged, wanting to do everything to perfection. I would experience staying up all night, worrying that our anchor would drag in a Bahaman monsoon; going aground in Stilts Ville (a bay of shallow water off Miami) and waving down drug dealers to give us a tow off a sand bar with their expensive Banana Boat, only to have the charter customer throw the tow line in our turning prop. Charter after charter; I spent that winter loving my job and getting a good foundation in the skippering business. I truly got to discover the ultimate beauty of the Bahaman Islands and the Florida Keys.
Spring season arrived and something was telling me that my heart was still back in California where the people seemed to be more ahead, consciously speaking. I knew that I'd be returning to the West Coast as soon as the charters slowed down in Florida.
Florida was a bit wild at the time because the previous President had let many of the Cuban desperados into the country. Miami was seemed like the Wild West. You could get shot if you walked into a bar, drove on the freeway, or even sailed to the Bahamas. On the ocean some of the desperados would pretend that they were stranded on a raft, have a gun hidden, shoot you, take the yacht, do a drug deal, and then sink the boat. I read this in Newsweek magazine and heard about it all of the time from the other skippers. I figured that this would never happen to me.
Before one of my last charters, I was walking down the stairs of my sister's condo at 6 in the morning and I ran into her roommate. He was just coming home from the police station. Apparently a couple of thieves walked into an up-scale Bar & Restaurant and began shooting. He showed me his bullet pierced ear lobe. "They didn't kill anyone. Just made everyone give them all of their money and jewelry," he said. He was happy to be alive. Now this was getting too close to home for me.
The Bahamas were so quiet and calm, compared to Florida's chaos. You merely had to make it across the Gulf Stream to get to the tropical oasis. I had a charter that morning for 7 days from Florida to the outer islands of the Bahamas. My job description was to take people to these tropical islands and play with them all week in the warm, turquoise waters: fishing, sailing, diving, eating, etc..... I was looking forward to going to some of my favorite islands, finding a private cove with water so clear you could see the white sand and coral below massive schools of tropical fish. My passengers would work very hard deepening their tropical suntan (burns), thereby proving their vacation fun to their friends back home. I'd disappear to my favorite private spots with my writing pad to work on my unfinished adventure novel. Occasionally, I would imagine Earnest Hemmingway writing or dreaming up scenes right where I was sitting and doing the same thing. (He had a home there in the Bahamas where he was a drunken legend).
The Gulf Stream section of the Atlantic has swallowed many a vessel and airplane. When you leave Florida, the Atlantic starts out mildly, with less than a half-knot current going north towards Greenland. In the middle of the Gulf Stream, the current can reach over 3.5 knots. A seasoned navigator can determine position by testing the water temperature. You have to really know your set and drift formulas with this changing current coming across your beam. You may also experience confused seas when the Gulf Stream and winds are going in opposite directions. Back then; all we used for electronic navigation was a Radio Direction Finder, now obsolete.
.
I met my crew: 6 college students from Bowling Green, Ohio; five girls and one lanky guy, all pasty white and feeble from a long winter inside studying and finding protection from the bitter East coast cold. They were bubbly and excited for a wild week of sunning, swimming, and partying in the Bahamas. Of course their reaction to seeing such a young skipper was a little ambivalent, to say the least. I some how eased their fears after a bit of humor and the fact that I had been doing the trip all winter.
Our destination is about 9 hours from Ft. Lauderdale at 6 knots. I told them that we'd be leaving at 2100 hrs. Most prudent skippers leave at night so when you arrive in the morning you can observe the reefs and shallows better. The charts are not as precise as the U.S. and shallow water is constant in the Bahamas. The best way to navigate is to watch the color change from dark blue, to turquoise, to almost clear white (the sand). Buoys and lighthouses on the first tiny island of Bimini aren't maintained like in the U.S.A., thus they may not be where the chart says they are.
Before departure, I went to have a beer with one of the old time skippers while we were waiting for evening to fall. Somewhere in the conversation he asked what kind of gun I was carrying on board. I bluntly told him that I didn't have one and didn't know it was a requirement. His advise was to keep my flare gun loaded at all times and show all of the crew how to use it. The drug trade was flourishing and many boats were being pursued by these bandits. I thought back on the bullet pierced ear lobe of my friend from that morning, and again I told myself that this was not my fate (though I do recall double checking the dates on the flares and pointing it out to a couple of the crew).
Fortunately my youthful optimism gave me the unreal thinking that I had an invisible protective bubble, keeping danger far away from me.
We departed Ft. Lauderdale at 2100 hrs. as scheduled. The weather forecast was for 10-15 knot winds and 2 to 4 foot seas, perfect for our voyage. Out the intercoastal waterway, left turn, and straight to Bimini. We all were sitting in the cockpit on our O'day 38, "Molly Brown". The moon was full and my crew looked a little better because they all lay in the hot Florida sun burning their skin, prepping it to become even more burned in the Bahamas. I remember saying to myself: " Woooa, here I am surrounded by 5 college girls, off to the Bahamas for a week. Life is all right. Thank you, God....
Swoosh, right then a soft, magical spray found it's way up into the cockpit. It's so warm at night that it is actually refreshing. Under the moonlight we talked for hours about our lives, families and what we all wanted to be or do some day. My ego was burning a mile a minute. Eventually most of them ventured down below to the coziness of the interior to get some sleep. I was enjoying the full moon and the time to myself to contemplate and think about some new scenes to add to the adventure novel I was creating.
About midnight the swell picked up to 12 feet, with 25 knots on our nose. This wasn't predicted, but what the heck, what you see is what you deal with. Everyone now was down below. I put my follies on over my t-shirt and shorts just to keep the salt spray off. An hour later, the winds picked up even more to a steady 45 knots with swells over 20 feet. I hadn't ever experienced anything like this in my life. I just kept struggling to follow my compass course the best I could. I taught the eager, lanky college young man how to use the hand held radio direction finder. Loran and GPS wasn't available back then. We were motoring at about 3 to 5 knots, straight into the wind and swells. Luckily that was the way to Bimini as well.
By 0200, I was getting weary but the conditions were getting even more severe. I couldn't let anyone take over the helm because it was a struggle even for me to keep on course. I thought about all of the rotting Spanish Galleons sitting comfortably on the ocean bottom, with skeletons coming to life, draped in gold and jewels, displaying eerie smiles, inviting us to come join them in their comfortable underwater world. I prayed that we would make it safely through the storm.
The swells built up to over 50 feet (beyond the masthead) and winds, now steady over 80 knots. It was beyond frightening. The motion could be compared to being inside a giant washing machine with no way out. You are at the extreme mercy of Mother Nature. Neptune was raging mad about something and letting us know it. The companionway hatch was closed tight to keep the white foam from pouring into the cabin. The boat would surge almost 45 degrees up and then dive back down, free falling, gaining the speed to make it up the next swell (I chose not to use a drogue because we needed speed & rudder control up the next swell). In the troughs, we would dive under the emerald green sea with those skeletons reaching for us trying pull us down before our Molly girl would lift her bow for air and gallop up as hard as possible. The crest of the next wave would break with such tremendous force over the doghouse that it seemed like the power could crumble the boat to pieces. It was as if you were actually on the beach looking up at a 25-30 foot wall of foam. I'd have to duck my head, and hold my breath until it'd fall behind us. Luckily, the cockpit scuppers were somewhat efficient, draining the water to just below my knees before the next wave would come and drench me. As soon as we'd head back up to another crest, I would barely lift my head only to see another huge one coming.
After over 8 hours of this tremendous abuse (imagine what it was like down below), one of the girls opened the hatch and said she couldn't take it any more and just had to come up. Yelling at the top of my lungs, I tried to politely say:" NO WAY."
I had the wheel to hold on to (we had no harnesses) and if she went overboard it would be near impossible to turn around. Not heeding my advice, she came topsides with a lifejacket on. The amusement park interior that constantly churned like a 360 degree rolling fun house didn't help anyone's delicate stomach down below.
With one arm on the wheel, I tied a bowline around her waist and to the binnacle. She could barely open her eyes because of the wind and salt spray. A slight smile of freedom from being in the cabin engulfed her. I now had to concentrate on steering the vessel, holding my course, hitting each swell just right, and now keeping an eye on her. She was only on deck a couple of minutes when she looked forward, only to see a King Kong sized wave 50 feet above us. After it broke over the doghouse, she let out the most fearful shriek. Within seconds she untied herself, pushed the companionway open, and flew down below, dripping wet with absolute fear.
It's not only the incredible swell and wind that is beyond a roller coaster ride; it's the phenonomenal noise racing through the rigging. The roaring and pounding on the deck is like lying down in the middle of a wild Buffalo stampede. You reevaluate the insurmountable forces of Mother Nature and her powers. It humbles you- if she let's you survive it.
I pinched myself and said:" This is a dream right? I'm not really going through this." I wanted to wake up in a cozy bed and say to myself, "I'd never be in that type of predicament, would I? I haven't lived long enough, neither have these college students. I wanted God's huge hand to pick us up out of this dishwasher and place us in a safe, calm, harbor. Swish, reality slapped me in the face with salty sandpaper. I didn't duck quick enough and cool salt water poured down my chest. Ahhhhh..
For hours and hours we pounded into the weather system. I wondered if the weight of the waves crashing on the doghouse would cause the hull to deck seam to split. Staring into the mountainous swells, I thought about turning back to Florida, but I didn't think the vessel could turn quick enough. We would surely roll if I put the "Molly Brown" beam to the seas. I thought about the story of the unsinkable Molly Brown and how her spirit must be with us on this vessel, keeping us alive and afloat. I kept praying to see the Bimini Light, which should have appeared many hours ago. (Later, I realized that even though our knot meter said 4-6 knots constantly, we were only moving on an average of 1.5-2 knots over the ground). My set and drift formulas had worked so many times before. Could I be getting thrown off by this wind and swell even though I was heading almost right into it?
About 0600 I had been at the helm 9 hours and there was no sight of the Bimini Light. I had the young man do another RDF check and he heard the proper signal, weak but correct. The conditions were stronger than ever. My body was past beat up and half drowned; I was on the survival mode. Thoughts that we were blown off course raced through my mind. Could we be heading for Greenland? I was questioning my confidence in navigating by having so much confused motion around us. I never expected to be blown off course. I would just keep heading on my course. I wasn't going to be responsible for anyone losing his or her lives at sea. I was determined to beat this devil's triangle with all it's voodoo magic.
Whoosh... another crest rushed over the doghouse into the cockpit, trying to pull me away from the wheel. I'd duck down at the lit compass, struggling to keep control and holding on for dear life. Dawn's first light gave me a shimmer of hope, except for the fact that we had no sign of Bimini. Around 0800 we got a call on the radio from another vessel that was on the trip to Bimini . These college students were from the same group from Bowling Green. They were bareboat certified. One of the girls cracked the companionway and said that the vessel was having engine trouble and they could see us off of their port. It gave me hope and brought me back to my semi-dazed state of wrestling with sea serpents all night long. We were here on this merciless ocean with another boat.

"Tell them to put up a double reefed main," I shouted down below. "I'll keep an eye on them but it'll be near impossible to give them a tow, let alone get near them in these conditions." Apparently, someone threw the sail cover in the lazarette and it had worked its way around the transmission shaft, consequently torking it to bend and not turn.
We spotted them and knew it was going to be challenging just to climb up on deck to pull up their main. It would have been very difficult if I had been in this situation because I had no crew that had any idea of what to do. I suppose we would've made due, if we had to.
They were sailing close reach into these conditions, taking long tacks and were almost able to keep up with us. I would give them advise, via yelling down the half closed companionway to a girl talking on the VHF. I assured them we would standby them until we reached Bimini. The conditions were still severe, however the swell would go up and down between 30-40 ft. and the howling winds would occasionally let up to 50-60 knots.
Then, like a mirage on a desert, we thought we spotted a glimpse of Bimini. We were all in heaven when we realized that it wasn't our imagination, but the nearly flat island. However, it was still a very trying experience to sight land and not arrive at the Bimini Reef break for another 6-7 hours. The pot of gold under the rainbow seemed almost unreachable. Gradually one or two of the girls would pop out of the companionway, only to rush down below in a short period. The breaking surf in the cockpit was too irritating. You couldn't look up long enough before getting blasted by Neptune's sword of salt water by the barrel-full.
Finally, when we reached the coastline of Bimini, our last and most challenging situation was yet to come. There is a reef that parallels the shore and you have to go inside it to reach the protected harbor of Bimini. The direction that the storm was blowing and waves breaking didn't favor entering the Bimini channel. You must parallel the coastline for almost a half a mile between a reef break and the beach before you reach the harbor entrance. The waves were actually breaking over the reef and building back up to 20 feet before they would crash on the beach. We would be taking the risk of getting beam to one of these waves, being lifted up and set right beside the wrecked airplane that must have crashed there from a drug deal a long time ago. We all stared at the waves washing in and out of the cockpit of the small plane while disheartening thoughts passed through our silent minds.
We were all so beat, so exhausted, that we almost didn't care. I was determined to make it, even if it meant finding a protected anchorage on the leeward side of the island. But with the way it was still blowing, I figured there might not be any protected anchorages. While we were still motoring into the swell, we saw a powerboat actually zoom into the entrance at over 15 knots. They made it just fine. I told the crew to hold on as tight as possible because we're going for it. The only problem with a large sailing yacht is that you can't speed up. I did a quick Hail Mary, studied the wave system, and pushed on through.
Our little Molly Brown got tossed and turned and I struggled to hold the wheel because it gets more difficult in shallow water. For about 10 minutes we rode these waves like the pro surfers of Santa Cruz. My adrenalin at this point was peeking. We made it! It was awesome to motor into a calm, safe, protected harbor. We immediately anchored. My body was numb, in partial shock, and beyond exhaustion. I gradually peeled off my salt encrusted foul weather gear.
I looked like Neptune himself; my brown hair, eyebrows and lashes, crusted with a fine white salt. I needed to lay down, however as the captain, I had to row ashore and check everyone's passport in with customs officials before the rest of the crew were allowed onshore. I carefully rowed the inflatable to the nearby docks, barely able to function, but loving the calm and protection we were surrounded by. I pulled ashore and kissed the ground.
The customs office was a 2-mile walk. I entered the office and the proud Bahamian officers immediately knew that I'd been through the storm. "Son, you're lucky you made it across. There are a number of boats that didn't."
These elder Afro-Bahamian gentlemen knew me pretty well now because I had been coming in all winter. The first time I came in to their office they made me turn around and walk the 2 miles or so back to the boat because I didn't have a shirt on. (Since the Bahama's are based on the British culture, they are quite Victorian). I was a bit disgruntled at the time but actually started to become friends with most of the natives, including these fellows. I used to run through their shantytowns where no tourists would go. The elder people would encourage me and appreciate my spirit, always cheering me on. The local younger people would think I was crazy for running in the heat. The fact that I brought in passengers that were spending money to help the locals earn a living, gave them even a fonder feeling towards me.
I wasn't fully listening because my head was spinning. I looked up at an old style 50's radio surrounded by cobwebs on the windowsill. A news's flash came on interrupting the Bob Marley music playing: "President Reagan was shot today." Both the President and I survived near death at the same time, I thought. How ironic.
I pulled my sore, stiff body back to the boat. It felt so good to have quiet, peace, and calmness around me. I gave all of the girls their stamped passports back, and to my surprise they were already primping up for a night on the town. I told them I'd catch up with them later. I lay down in the cockpit watching some yellow tiger fish swim by in the clear harbor water. The sun was nearing sunset. My body was barely in and out of consciousness. I couldn't sleep, looking up, ready for another wave to pounce my face, only to get the relief of the warm, Bahamian sun....

Click here to subscribe to the Pacific Yachting Newsletter, Mailing List
and Crewlist!

| Home | | Instruction Programs | | Bareboat Fleet |
| Team Challenge | | Skippered Charters | | Testimonials | | Calendar | | Tropical Charters |
| Membership | | Women's Classes | | Skippers | | Application | | Crewlist | | Location |
| Newsletter | | Merchandise | | Yacht Ownership | | Charitable Donations | | links |

Contact Webmaster