I had given notice on my job just before the busy season and they didn’t understand why I wanted to quit after I had spent two years working nearly seven days a week. I could have made a lot of money that summer, but what I had in mind was priceless

My father took me to the bank where I converted my savings into1400 dollars in travelers checks. This would be a three month trip where for two months I couldn’t spend any money at all. Yes, as I could not find any girls to go along, I was going to do this single handed.

Later that day one of the other live aboard boaters at the boatyard came over to me with a friend. It was explained that “Pete” was very interested in going with me to Hawaii. I thought that since this would be my first such trip, perhaps I should not be going alone. I explained what was involved with the voyage and I gave him 24 hrs to get ready to go. He was to supply his own booze and cigarettes, no drugs, no guns and no homosexuality. In turn I would provide him with return air faire.

The next day after Pete arrived, I started the 5-hp Mariner outboard, and in ceremonial style, used a hack saw to cut the dock lines. Putting the motor in reverse, I was officially on my way across the ocean, on my much anticipated first voyage.

According to the sailing books and Pacific yacht race charts, the course to Hawaii should be a loop to the south. My initial heading, therefore, was from Ventura harbor to Anacapa Island. Continuing on that course would take me just south of San Nicholas Island. From there, it is nothing but deep water to the Hawaiian Islands some 2300 to 2500 miles away.

Prior to this trip, I had done many day sails and some night sails, but this would be my first experience sailing all day and all night, day after day after day. It took some getting used to. For the first three days I was like a zombie, not being able to really sleep. I was constantly checking on everything – the rigging, the self steering, the sea generator – and was constantly making celestial nav checks (mainly sun and moon lines).

There was one very important thing about ocean sailing that I learned during the first third of the trip. Sitting in the companionway under the dodger, I saw that no matter how windy it became, nor how big the seas grew, as this boat went up and down the waves, I was always able to see over their tops.

From my experience, sailing to Hawaii just wasn’t that ruff going. Starboard tack for six days, reefed main and single working jib, all systems were always a go. I experienced a slight form of seasickness, but nothing intolerable. Just no ability to keep food down for a few days, no fever, no headache, no real nausea, no problem. Sailing back from Hawaii (as you will read) is a different matter.

The waters off the California coast are cold and so is the air temp. This meant that the perishable foods lasted for a while. They were, however, used first. Another thing I noticed during the first third of the trip was the change in visible wild life. No longer were there sea lions. The seagulls were replaced by albatrosses, those huge winged acrobatic gliders. If they have to flap their wings to fly, then there is no wind. Also, the further from shore we went the smaller the man-o-war jelly fish became, indicating that they were born far out at sea and grew bigger as they approach land.

There was also a lot of floating debris covered with varying amounts of sea growth. The longer it was in the water the more growth there was. Eventually, this accumulation of crustacean sea life will take the debris to the bottom.

Reaching the end of the first third of the trip brought us out of the prevailing westerlies and for a day or so there was no wind. Flat calm. Warm air. Warm water. We were on the verge of entering the tropics. Time to take a shower. Buckets of warm salt water. Joy soap. A final rinse with fresh water (retrieved from the inboard tank). Very refreshing. And finally, a good sleep.

When the wind returned, it was from the east. We were now in the trade winds. I dropped the main, and for the first time, raised the two working jibs. But, there was a problem. I had only one whisker pole and the opposing jib kept collapsing. Combining the fishing gaff with the boat hook, I jury rigged a whisker pole. It worked great. It was very precarious keeping the vane gear facing dead aft as the last two-thirds of the trip would be dead down wind.

The trade wind seas presented no problems. Constant 20 knot winds dead aft with following seas no greater than 8-10 feet. I was always at some absurd hour of the night that the large predatory fish hit, and all I had was this little rod and reel. I should have had a larger heavier fishing pole. I did manage to land several smaller tuna, skipjack, and mahimahi. I cleaned them while they were still alive and made what I called fish bombs. I wrapped filleted chunks in tinfoil with herbs and spices and cooked them on the kerosene burner.

I was also constantly checking rigging tension, but it was never excessive. The sea generator packed a wallop and the battery never went dead. It was necessary to pull in the generator’s prop whenever trolling for fish to prevent the two lines from tangling. I had to wear gloves when pulling in the prop as the thick nylon rope would form large hockles and these could tear the skin on my hand.

The oversized running lights on the anchor pulpit that I fabricated were eventually lost to smashing bow waves. To replace them, I went forward wearing a stripped down skydivers harness as a safety harness and made a new bow light fixture from the dime store lights that were on board. I used a hose clamp to affix this new light to the bow rail.

Other than kerosene burners clogging up, the only other slight mishap was when the tiller head fitting temporarily came off the rudder post. There was no problem placing the fitting back on top of the woodruff key.

Late May is the best time of year to do such a trip as hurricane season was not yet at its peak. This proved to be the case as hurricane Blanca passed 800 miles south west of the Big Island, which was 1,800 miles from us. All we got from it was some ominously fierce looking wave forms. Nothing unmanageable. When it got too windy all I did was lower one jib. I do not recall ever having to reef a working jib, but there was always one ready on its own forestay and halyard ready to go.

With about 1,000 miles left to go, I began receiving Hawaiian radio signals at night on a super sensitive AM radio set. It was KHLO in Hilo and it nulled out dead ahead. Now all I had to do was home in on this signal to reach the island. The RDF wouldn’t tell me where I was, just which way to go. As we got closer, I was able to receive these and other radio signals during daylight hours. It was quite exhilarating to hear signals from Hawaii. It gave me a sense of accomplishment. As I sat there on the stern rail platform I was quite content just watching the waves and the world go by. These little boats just keep going and going and going.....

Although it was still important to take celestial sights, with radio direction finding, navigation became less of a concern. I now spent more time just relaxing and enjoying the sea, the cloud formations and the rainbows. There were porpoise that went out of their way to come right up to us. There were pilot whales and the migratory birds. This is what it was all about for me... just seeing what was beyond the horizon.

Around 400 miles from the islands, we could see aircraft contrails that all seemed to converge on a single point. They could have been going to any one of the major airports. At about 150 miles out, we began seeing local fishing vessels. At the end of 21st day, the outline of Mauna Loa back lit by the setting sun became visible. That is a sight I will never forget

By night fall of the 22nd day, I could see the orange glow of the mercury vapor street lights in Hilo. Those are lights associated with bad neighborhoods where I come from, so their glow gave me some bad thoughts. We were only about ten miles off the Hamakua coast, and for all practical purposes we had arrived. It was the last week of June.

The first rule of cruising is to never enter an unknown harbor at night. So I slowed the boat down to arrive at Hilo in daylight. At the point where we were approaching the island, the city itself was still 25 miles down the coast and there was a huge mountain range acting as a wall that blocked the wind. Out comes the outboard engine. It took a several hours of motoring to finally arrive at Hilo Bay.

Seeing the islands in the daylight after 22 days at sea was really something. It was still early in the morning when we entered the breakwater at Hilo Bay. Further down in the bay is Radio Bay, where all the cruisers anchor or “Med” moor up to the seawall. At the appropriate time I dropped the stern hook, nosed up to the seawall and I kissed the ground as soon as I stepped off the bow. I MADE IT!!!!