Heading east was not with out its own special set of events. On one dark moonless night, as I gazed star ward, a couple of interesting celestial sights were visible. First, I noticed that the north star was unusually high in the sky. Second, the winter constellation Orion was visible very low on the northern horizon, way below Polaris. Orion was minified in size from its usual winter appearance and it was also inverted.
Then there were the sailing events. For several days the lee rail was constantly awash and it was frequently necessary to bail the bilge. Just a nuisance, but then I discovered that both the anchors were gone. They had been secured to the bow rail and the hawser pipes sealed before departing north from Hawaii. Also, I had removed the rhode from the shackles on the anchors. I guess those anchors made their way to the bottom
This time of sailing was very much an up and down ride, but there was no pounding. And thankfully, no seasickness what so ever
The weather was very cold when I began sailing south. I tried in vain to lite the stove for heat, but no luck. It was also clear that after two weeks of no showers and wearing the same clothes, I smelled really badly. But who was I going to offend, the fish? Now, however, I needed to prepare myself for the return to civilization. Once I got down into the warmer latitudes, I filled the Sun Shower apparatus with fresh water from the inboard tank. Those plastic solar heater bags work really well. I took a fresh water shower and changed my clothes. It was then I noticed that my clothes were literally falling off my body. I guessed that maybe I had lost five or ten pounds. It would later turn out that I had lost more like 50 pounds!
It was now possible to “home in” on the AM stations along the coast using the RDF and get some sort of a vector indicating where I was. Somewhere along the way I decided to throw the sky dive harness overboard. To make a long story short, a few years back a friend of mine borrowed this skydiving rig from me and got killed on that jump. I decided that it was not something I wanted anymore.
Some 48 hours of fluky, light wind showed up about 200 miles from the coast. The situation was, however, nothing like the earlier drifting of four days at a time.
At about 200 miles, I was able to home in on the long range beacon at point Arguello on 302 KHZ. This was important for my safety. I was nearing land, the skies were becoming somewhat overcast and that made the sextant useless. I kept the angle to the beacon slightly off to my left to pass it to the south and not to end up right on top of it. If those beacons are followed close enough, it is quite possible to end op on the rocks on which the antenna is located.
After a number of attempts, I was finally able to contact a marine operator somewhere in Central California. I spoke to my parents for the first time since before leaving Hawaii and told them that I would likely reach Ventura within a day or so. Not that I was exactly sure where I was. I knew I was getting close to land as I was now seeing kelp, seagulls and sea lions.
It was the 40th day since leaving Hawaii. There was a fair wind, but now there was fog and no sight of land. As I lay half asleep in the cabin, I was suddenly alerted by the sounding of five prolonged warning blasts from the horn of a nearby ship. Quickly I ran up on deck, and there coming out of the fog I saw a huge ship. It crossed my bow only about 350 yards away! I immediately released the wind vane and altered course to cross its stern. Clearly, I was in the northbound coastwise shipping lanes.
After that incident, I began keeping a constant lookout for ships. I also needed to navigate around several oil rigs and their related mooring buoys. The afternoon of that same day, either the fog bank lifted or I sailed out of it, but like magic, sightly off to my left and about seven or eight miles ahead, I saw the rotating beacon on Point Arguello. Just a few miles off my left beam was California’s mountainous coast. This was my first sight of land since leaving Hawaii.
Going around Point Conception had its own set of problems as things on the boat now started to break. The jib tack pennant fitting that I devised did not allow for enough free play for the jaw end of the turnbuckles and they each broke in succession. I went forward using the mainsheet as a lifeline and created one turnbuckle out of two broken ones. Then the gooseneck failed. It just isn’t over till its over, is it?. There were two tangs, one on the boom and one on the mast, that allowed me to jury rig a gooseneck with just one bolt. At this point, I was quickly learning how to be resourceful.
That night, the stories about how rough it is around Point Concepcion proved to be at least somewhat true. Somehow, the boat broached momentarily and seawater came flooding over the coamings and swamped the cockpit. I swear this water was glowing bright green from all the phosphorous. This was nothing, however, that the scuppers couldn’t handle. Just in case, that night while in the main salon I wore a float coat and kept an EPIRB nearby.
The next morning I was in the lee of Santa Cruz Island, well inland of the ship lanes. With less than 20 miles remaining to Ventura harbor, I sure could have used an outboard. I made another radio telephone call to my father and I asked him to try contacting me using the VHF on his boat. Soon I heard him calling my boat’s name. Next thing I heard was the Ventura harbor patrol respond that I was no longer in the area, but rather that I was in Hawaii! My father informed them of my return and told them my approximate location. As I started to respond to my father on the VHF, someone began to stepping all over my transmission with unnecessary conversation that belonged on another channel. He was broadcasting on channel16 mind you! I was finally able to make contact and get him switch to another channel.
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