Full Moon Sailing :: Soul Food

Yesterday was the full moon, and I got a wild hair and decided to grab some friends and head out at sunset to enjoy it on the water. Since my racing debacle last week, I have been feeling particularly tender and in need of being on the water. My goal has been to get back on the “horse” and get out there every day. It has been the best medicine ever!

We left the dock around 5:30pm and cruised out of the marina into a beautiful California sunset. There was no wind at first, so we motored out, but as we made our way past the breakwater and into the bay, the wind started to come up. Soon we were under full sail and cruising along at 6-7 knots.  The moon rose dramatically over the city, while the unseasonably warm northerly breeze kept us trucking along. We were the only boat as far as we could see, and the feeling of sailing out into the darkness with the giant yellow moon in our wake was euphoric to say the least. I could have stayed out there all night, and wish I could have! It is a night I will never forget and will go down as one of my favorites of all time! Sailing always heals me, but this sail in particular went very deep. I am so grateful to my lovely friends for joining me and sharing in such a magical experience.



Tough Decision :: Aborting My First Big Race

I am not sure where to even start with my experience yesterday. I guess I will start at the beginning. When I decided to enter the SHTP last September, my sailing career took on a life of its own. Until then, solo day sails (albeit many) and solo trips to Catalina were the pinnacle of my singlehanded sailing experience.

As a way to train and learn, and take things to the next level, I joined PSSA (Pacific Singlehanded Sailing Association). I am so grateful that I did, because even at this early stage in my membership, this group has pushed me to learn and grow as a sailor in ways I cannot even explain.

heading out of my slip

heading out of my slip

Merely their existence as experienced and brave singlehanded sailors is inspiring, then you add the actual experience of being surrounded by them all on their boats at the start of a long race, and the expression “being humbled” takes on a whole new meaning. I was sincerely taken aback yesterday as we all gathered and swarmed for the start of our race to Bishop Rock (about 100 miles offshore). I was so proud to be a part of it, and felt pretty good as Haunani and I crossed the starting line neck in neck with all of these experienced guys.

preparing for the start (in the midst of badasses :-))

preparing for the start (in the midst of badasses :-))

We all headed out, and fairly shortly (as usual) Haunani and I were at the back of the pack. I still felt good though, and we carried on, taking in the beautiful day. The wind came up a bit about 30 minutes out and I was getting overpowered and pushed down into a big tanker. I needed to be able to point higher and make my boat perform more efficiently. I first reduced my headsail and traveled my main way up, to see if that would help. It did for a bit, and I was able to clear the tanker. It soon became obvious that I needed to reef my main as well though. I noticed at the start that two of the guys were already reefed. I wish that I had followed suit. When I reefed, I had a few embarrassing snafus (thankfully I was alone) involving my new 3rd reefing line getting stuck around my boom and an accidental 360. It was not pretty, and I was a sweaty mess by the end of it all. I did get Haunani reefed though (even if it was NOT in record time), and we were on our way once again. It was a beautiful day, and I was thoroughly loving being out there. The afternoon light started to soften, and I was marveling at what we were actually doing out there. Despite my lifetime of sailing, I have never sailed a distance like this, nor through the night….let alone by myself!  As we sailed along, I noticed that my new autopilot was not holding a course as it should. We were rounding up and zig zagging. I hand steered for a while and that was much better (so I knew that my sail trim was ok). I was getting hungry and was in need of warmer clothes and the head, but couldn’t leave the helm. When I did my boat would round up and basically stop. It was very frustrating to say the least.

As the frustration set in, so did all of my fears and self-doubt. I started to imagine the night, and how I would handle this issue as well as all of the other unknowns that lurked. I have AIS and radar, but truthfully have never had to trust in them as a safety measure in order to sleep without worrying. I was afraid I would never sleep, and I was already exhausted (I had not slept well the night before because of nerves). This little cocktail of emotions and exhaustion was what sent me spinning off into a bit of a melt down. The tears came, and then came the “what do you think you are doing out here” self-deprecatory thoughts. I went down every road from feeling I was letting myself down (as well as my Dad…and Thomas who had worked so hard in the days before my race to make my boat ready), to the fear of being judged by my fellow sailors, to “imposter syndrome” (those of you that have it know what I am talking about :-)). It was a negative spiral and I knew I needed some perspective. I called my dear friends Thomas and Silvia who had just been out on Thomas’ boat to watch the start, and they were both extremely supportive and offered calming and sound advice…mainly not to beat myself up and to do what I felt was right. I then called my Dad and Jaime, who both said the same. That is when I decided to turn around and head home. I was completely mortified to have to call in on the radio to announce in front of all my fellow racers that I was quitting. It was a very hard moment for me, but also a necessary one, so I bit the bullet.

Despite the agony of making the decision, I am glad I headed back, because my autopilot continued to give me problems (even worse at that point). Despite this, we had a beautiful sail home and it provided some quiet time to reflect on what had just happened. I realized that technical difficulty aside; I was not ready for that trip. I had not sailed my boat (except 2 short sails in super light wind) in almost three months. I had done a lot of sailing on other boats, but not the kind I needed to do to prepare for this trip and keep my chops up. I was rusty, and as a result, my confidence was not where it needed to be to tackle something so big and new. I also did not give myself sufficient time to learn and become familiar with all of my new electronic equipment, including my autopilot. It was a bit of a scramble at the end to even get me off the dock yesterday.

What I learned through all of this is that I have a very solid foundation, but in deciding to take on this new level of sailing, I am once again a beginner. I have to be patient with that fact. The way through it is practice and exposure, and knowing when I need to back off….like yesterday. I have become healthily aware of all that I have to learn, and am very committed to learning it. The next month will be filled with long practice sails, and deep study and practice with my new equipment. Everything is always all about growth and the process for me, and a big part of that is embracing and learning from the tough stuff. Yesterday was one of those times and I am very grateful for it!

Haunani and I tucked safely back into our slip around 7:30pm

my very short lived trip recorded by my tracker

my very short lived trip recorded by my tracker

Thanks to my dear SIlvia for capturing these shots



Horizons

I have been thinking a lot about horizons lately. I think looking out at the mid-pacific horizon every day for the last 10 days (since I have been on my home island of Hawaii for the holidays) has accelerated that. Not only is it a familiar and soothing sight from my childhood, but also a new awareness about it has emerged in me. As I look out each day at that immense delineation between the tropical sea and sky, I am viscerally reminded that in 6 short months I will be literally surrounded by nothing but this sight for many days on end.

There is so much possibility that lies in the horizon. It represents literal possibility as well as a metaphoric one, which is so cool, because this entire journey for me from day one has been (and continues to be) both of those things.

The literal is obvious: developing new skills, overcoming technical challenges, increasing my physical fitness, performing new kinds of mental gymnastics, preparing my boat, and so on. The metaphoric is more mysterious, because so much of it is unknown, or invisible, like what lies over the horizon. I know that the nuggets that will come from the soul searching of this endeavor are things that I cannot even imagine or fully grasp now. I have unearthed some gems already as I prepare, but I know that nothing will compare to the moment I set sail alone and lose sight of land for the first time in my life.

It is perfect that a new year is starting as I reflect on the magnitude of all of this. I felt it fitting therefore, to officially register for the SHTP yesterday as a symbol of my commitment and intention. I am very excited for what the horizon of my next 7 months holds. The vision and intention that I am personally holding very sacredly in my minds eye is one of my beautiful Haunani carrying me safely into Hanalei bay sometime in mid July 2016!

Happy New Year to you all!

 

the horizon from the northwest shore of the Big Island of Hawaii

the horizon from the northwest shore of the Big Island of Hawaii

Learning. Learning. Learning

I have always been an avid learner and seeker. People who know me well know that when I decide to take something on, I dive in head first and will stop at nothing (and maybe even become a tad obsessive :-)) to learn as much as I possibly can on the topic. I have certainly been a life long student of sailing, but since deciding to do the SHTP, I have taken that drive to a new level. I wrote a bit about that in a previous post, but that was mainly focusing on book learning. I recently decided to take a hands on class to bone up on my knowledge of navigation, weather and night sailing. I did this by taking the ASA (American Sailing Association) Advanced Coastal Cruising (ASA 106) through Bluewater Sailing in Marina Del Rey. Fifteen years ago I completed the comparable certifications up through this point with US Sailing, and though I opted not to go for the certifications this time, it was a valuable experience. I definitely learned some new and important information in this course, mainly about navigation, effective use of radar, and how to better keep the boat balanced in big winds and seas for the most effective performance (as well as minimal pressure on the rudder). Another important thing I was reminded of, is how much I actually do know, and how trusting that is just as important as seeking support and new knowledge.

The class was comprised of 2.5 classroom days, and 3 nights on the water with 3 other students and an instructor. The goal was to plan a voyage from start to finish, and undertake all of the tasks to make that happen. I was lucky to have great crew-mates and a great instructor. Sadly, however, I started off the trip fighting a bug of some kind, which I am convinced contributed greatly to my 2 days of seasickness.

Tim plotting our first leg

Tim plotting our first leg

Intermittent seasickness aside, the trip went well, and despite not feeling at all like myself, I enjoyed a lot of the beautiful moments that only being at sea can provide. We headed out of Marina Del Rey on a Wednesday afternoon around 4. We got to put our radar to the test, as we were blanketed in thick fog for the first hour of our journey. The fog lifted just in time for sunset, and from that point on we enjoyed a beautiful cruise (under power) up to Paradise Cove, where we anchored for the night.

Carl on foghorn duty coming out of the marina

Carl on foghorn duty coming out of the marina

staying warm in my awesome new Gill gear (thank you Jerome!) before all the sickness set in

staying warm in my awesome new Gill gear (thank you Jerome!) before all the sickness set in

We all stood an anchor watch, and being the last one (lucky me), I woke everyone at 6 the next morning for an early departure. Our original plan was to go to Santa Barbara Island, and then to Cat Harbor, but given the intense weather that was developing to the northwest, we decided to abort that plan and head straight for Catalina in case we needed to seek shelter from the storm. Seeking shelter was indeed what was called for, and we ended up on a mooring at the Isthmus for 36 hours or so. It was the roughest ride on a mooring I have ever had, but I was glad to be there in safe harbor because the winds ended up building to 30-40 knots, and there was a substantial swell to contend with. We were one of only 3 (non-company) boats in the harbor, and the dinghy docks and gangways from the main dock were removed to prepare for the weather, so there was no going ashore for us. Bobbing violently around on a mooring with 4 (albeit very cool) other people on a 41-foot Hunter was NOT my idea of fun, and only exacerbated my looming motion sickness. Finally after 2 nights in Two Harbors, the weather improved and we set sail for Marina Del Rey at 4am Saturday morning (to get our requisite night sailing time in). I was overjoyed to wake up and feel semi-normal, so I greeted the chilly early morning with enthusiasm! Once we got out past the lee of the island, we realized that despite the improvement in the weather, we still had some serious conditions to contend with. The gusty 25 knot wind was basically on our bow, and the swells were about 10 feet. This did not make for a comfortable ride at all, and forced us to motor sail (with a very reefed mainsail) for quite awhile. After about 45 minutes of this, the seasickness took hold of me again, and it was way worse this time. It did not let up for 8 more of the 10 hours that we were out there. It was total torture for me on so many levels. I have been queasy here and there, but have not thrown up or been debilitated from seasickness in 30 years (when crossing the Alenuihaha channel from Maui to Hawaii Island with my Dad). It was a very humbling experience to feel that way again, and caused my mind to spin off in many negative spirals, questioning my entire sailing career as well as all of my current goals. I even wandered into a debate with myself about whether or not I should even keep my boat. I was feeling pretty bleak despite the beauty that surrounded me, but that's how badly I felt, and how much the seasickness was skewing my sense of reality.

here we are on the way to Catalina, round one of queasiness behind me

here we are on the way to Catalina, round one of queasiness behind me

Our trusty instructor, Eliott

Our trusty instructor, Eliott

stormy Isthmus Harbor

stormy Isthmus Harbor

About an hour out from Marina Del Rey I started to feel better, and was able to take the helm as we returned home. It helped to focus my mind and feel the breeze in my face. The weather was sunny and beautiful, and we were under full sail by then. The closer we got to home, the more my queasiness lifted, and I was once again in love with sailing and all of the dark and ridiculous thoughts had passed.

I am grateful for the patience and compassion of my crew-mates, as well as the inevitability that seasickness passes. It is truly one of the worst feelings of all time.  I know I am prone to feeling this way, but sailing alone helps keep it at bay due to the intense focus and responsibility that comes along with that endeavor.....so there is another reason on my list of why sailing solo works so well for me!

sunrise over the big swells. So beautiful! I am glad I was able to grab this shot despite my nasty queasiness

sunrise over the big swells. So beautiful! I am glad I was able to grab this shot despite my nasty queasiness





Inspiration Abounds

Since I officially decided to prepare for my big adventure, (sailing in the Singlehanded Transpac next year), I have been reading everything I can get my hands on about sailing, single-handing, navigation, weather and ocean crossings. I have found so many inspiring blogs (see links below) and books that I am currently devouring. I am reading everything from the most technical instructional books to the most personal accounts of life at sea. I am currently on a tear with solo circumnavigation stories. I have taken to waking up at 5 or 6 in the morning and tucking back into my bed with my little dogs and a cup of coffee to lose myself in these amazing tales of self-inquiry, courage and adventure. I am so incredibly inspired by these brave souls who not only put themselves out there to have these experiences, but also to share their personal stories. I already knew this in my guts, but the common thread that I am finding is that these solo voyages are transformational on a very deep level, and not solely from the standpoint of technical accomplishment. I am certainly not discounting the magnitude of the technical part, but what interests me the most is the deeper, emotional part of the journey, so I am happy to glimpse others’ expressions of this. I am sure people who know me well are laughing that I just explained that (hello, obvious), knowing that I don’t do much in my life if not from that place. I certainly wouldn’t be undertaking all of this solo off-shore sailing unless it promised to reveal a deeper knowledge of and intimacy with myself.

One of my favorite documents out of all of the things I have read so far, is my Father’s log from his first pacific crossing in 1975 aboard Scottish Fantasy, a Westsail 32.  I love that my Dad still has his log. It is perfectly typed out (I imagine transcribed from his beautifully handwritten log) and bound. I feel like it has been waiting there in his files all of these years, for me to discover and read at the exact right time. I was thrilled when he sent it to me last month, and immediately read it cover to cover in one morning coffee sitting.

My morning with Dad's log

My morning with Dad's log

His log is a perfect blend of technical data and emotional reflections. The scariest thing (it seems) that happened on the voyage was hitting an unknown submerged hazard. Thankfully the boat was fine, but the sound of it gave everyone a huge fright. To this day they have no idea what it was, but the unanimous guess was that it was a log. Thankfully it was not a shipping container or something that could have caused real damage. On one of Dad's crossings, they had a near miss as they sailed past a mostly submerged shipping container (now I know why hitting a floating container is my Dad’s largest worry for me on my trip). I loved reading his descriptions of everything from the constellations, to the weather, the serenity, the loneliness, the physical challenges, the technical boat stuff and of course, the blissful rewards. My Dad is a beautiful writer, and even in this “official” format of a ships log, his poetic style shines through. The most touching moment for me was when he was reflecting on how much he missed us (I was 8 at the time), and our Mom who was pregnant with my baby sister. I actually got all teary (shocking, I know!).

I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree when it comes to the desire to document and reflect upon my life’s adventures. The format has changed, but I think of this blog as much the same as Dad’s journals about his voyages. I am grateful that I have a platform like this to reflect upon and document my journey!

an early morning reading session. finishing Jessica Watson's book, True Spirit

an early morning reading session. finishing Jessica Watson's book, True Spirit

Whats currently on my nightstand:

The Exciting Journey of Removing My Mast Partner (just a tad of sarcasm here)!

I have always loved manual labor and getting my hands dirty, and when it involves a sailboat, I am seriously happier then a pig in sh*t!  My Dad took sailboat maintenance to an art form (and perhaps even a form of meditation), and thankfully I was steeped in that mindset from a young age. I don’t think I will ever be as meticulous as he was with his boats, but I do my best and have fun along the way!

Thankfully I get to work with my dear old friend Thomas, who doesn’t mind me hovering while watching him work (anxiously waiting for something to help with). He is so generous and gracious about it all. His knowledge and skill level are unparalleled, and. I have learned so much in the past two months of pulling Haunani apart to build her back up again. It has been an incredible journey! The project yesterday was remove the mast partner (the collar of metal that holds the mast where it passes through the deck) in order to re-seal and re-seat it to prevent leaks. It had been leaking pretty badly, and after my last wild sail, and a small waterfall down the mast inside the cabin, I knew that it was time to address it.

The first phase of this project took about half a day, and was fairly tedious and frustrating. Thank God for the ridiculous banter between Thomas and me, which kept the mood light (and masked the annoying fact that it took hours to pull out only a small amount of old sealant). Raising the partner only ¾ inch took many tools, a ton of elbow grease and a fair amount of cussing (and it was NOT from Thomas).

Today we will go back and clean out the remnants of the old dried goop, re-seal the area between the mast, deck and partner, then re-seat it with some nice new fasteners that will be much easier to remove if there is ever a next time.



Hitting The Ground Running :: Haunani's Preparations So Far

On September 9, 2015, something big shifted for me. That was the day that I realized that my dream of sailing to Hawaii alone would become a reality. I think most of you have read the story of the fateful conversation that re-lit that flame for me. If not, you can read it here. I have had the goal of doing this trip before my 50th birthday, and if all goes according to plan, I will be setting sail in The Singlehanded Transpac 1.5 years before that big milestone!

reaching into marina del rey after a beautiful sail

reaching into marina del rey after a beautiful sail

Since that day a couple of short months ago, it has been all-go around here. I kicked it into high gear with boat and Margie (more on what that entails later) preparations. As I have done so, I realize more each day how much needs to be done (and learned). I am so blessed to have an amazing support system, ranging from my loving family, to enthusiastic friends and blog followers to my mentors and the experts who work with me on my boat. This would be beyond daunting without them!

As I write this, my boat is pretty much torn apart. To give you an idea of the scope of the preparations I am making, here is some of what is going on so far:

The rudder is off for inspection (and as it turns out, due to moisture in the rudder and expense of a repair, I am getting a new elliptical rudder), the main hatches are being replaced, the aft cabin is open and bare, ready for all kinds of electronic installations, the most exciting of which is my new NKE autopilot. I am very grateful to my biggest supporter, my amazing Dad for this incredible addition to Haunani. This system will give me so much peace of mind, as I embark upon a season of singlehanded racing, and then of course, my big trip to Hawaii in July. NKE is an impressive company that has been manufacturing high-tech autopilots for more than 30 years. You should definitely take a look at their website to get a sense of how badass this piece of equipment really is! Jerome Sammarcelli, of SAILUTIONS in Marina Del Rey imports and expertly installs these systems and will doing so with mine soon! He has used and installed many, including on his own boats, and swears by them.

being a TOTAL geek withI my new autopilot!!!! I am SO excited!

being a TOTAL geek withI my new autopilot!!!! I am SO excited!

the rudder coming off...it did NOT float. It was a big job for the diver

the rudder coming off...it did NOT float. It was a big job for the diver

my rudder in the divers boat

my rudder in the divers boat

one of the samples drilled to test the rudder

one of the samples drilled to test the rudder

we found a crack in the rudder post cap/emergency tiller insertion point

we found a crack in the rudder post cap/emergency tiller insertion point

a drawing of the new rudder

a drawing of the new rudder

the forward hatch coming off

the forward hatch coming off

my chart table area and old panel partially stripped of the old set up 

my chart table area and old panel partially stripped of the old set up 

The New Panel...who knew I could get so excited about something like this??

The New Panel...who knew I could get so excited about something like this??

My long time friend, Thomas Lehtonen (expert marine electrician/all around boat guru/sailing badass), will also be installing an AIS (Automatic Identification System), a repeater display for my chart plotter and radar down below, a new VHF radio (with all of the latest safety features), a new stereo (because I NEED my music), and a Sirius marine weather system. Along with all of that, there will be an entire re-build of my electrical panel, and a reorganization of my chart table area. There will be more to come in phase 2 (solar panels, a hydro-generator and a wind vane/emergency rudder), but this is it for now.

As far as sails and rigging go, I purchased two new sails, that I have never had on my boat before: an asymmetrical spinnaker, and a storm jib (which will be used with a moveable baby stay).  I had 2 additional reef points rigged in my main sail for a total of 3 (we rarely need more than 1 for Southern California coastal sailing). Obviously there will also be a very comprehensive safety inspection of all of my rigging as time goes on. My boat is sturdy, but she is old, and has never done any kind of offshore sailing before, so she and I are learning and growing together as we prepare!! I am involved with as much of this work as possible (at the very real risk of annoying the crap out of my team :-) ) and I am grateful to learn many new things each day.

Whew, as I read back on all of that I realize how much is already underway in a short amount of time. With the whirlwind of activity and improvements to my beloved boat, has come a certain amount of overwhelm for me personally. One of the things that stands out for me as the most important lesson stemming from this overwhelm, is the importance of being assertive and confident in all of the decision making. I know a lot more now than I did 11 years ago when I bought my 1st sailboat, and I have learned even more than that in the last 2 years of owning and sailing Haunani (both on my own and with crew). I have logged a lot of hours on this boat, and I know her very well, so this round of work on her is so much different than when I first bought her and was fixing her up. I was pretty much flying by the seat of my pants, and was much more likely to trust what someone else thought was best without thinking it through because I didn’t have the experience I have now. I tended to think that everyone else had all of the answers since they were “experts”. While on one hand that is very true and valid (I am lucky to have amazing experts to trust), I was discounting a very important expert….ME. I have a history of having a bad case of self-doubt when in the company of people who know more than I do on any given topic, and sailing has been no exception to this annoying habit. It becomes debilitating at times, and as I become a more experienced sailor embarking on more serious off-shore adventures, I am realizing how important it is for me to step up and own what I know and take charge in the decision making. This is not to say that I all of a sudden think I know everything, or that I will not rely on the expertise and experience of my mentors, but it is to say that I will be believing in and relying upon on myself MUCH more when it comes to what is best for me and my own boat. I am lucky to have people on my team that are extremely respectful of me and listen to and carefully consider my opinions, but I have to say that it has not historically been the case. This is partly I am sure, because of my own lack of confidence back then, but also because sadly, there are still those people in the sailing community who think that being a woman somehow translates into weakness or “isn’t that cute she has her own sailboat-itis". Anyway, I choose not to focus on that, but would be dishonest if I did not include that as part of my experience.

The bottom line is that Haunani is well on her way to being ready for phase one of our adventures. Our second PSSA race is on January 23rd, 2016, and by that time we will have done lots of practice sails to learn our new equipment and will be raring to get out there together!

Engine 101

I am NOT an engine person, but when you have a sailboat with an engine, its kind of a requirement to become at least somewhat of an engine person. I used to look at my engine as a faraway exotic land, with customs I could only dream about understanding. As time has gone on though, and through the guidance of one of my dearest friends and mentors, Thomas, I have started to learn her foreign ways. The best way for me to learn is first hand. I should be careful what I wish for, though, because with two back to back overheating issues, I got a crash hands on course recently.

Yesterday I was returning from a weekend in Catalina with my amazing friends/crew, and about 5 minutes out of the Isthmus, we over heated...AGAIN. Smoke was pouring out and my temperature gauge was pegged. I had just had the engine fixed, so it was beyond disconcerting. Anyway, with a  speaker phone tutorial from Thomas, and support from my crew in handling my boat in super light wind (a little too close to land for comfort), I troubleshooted and fixed the problem. Some would say that the problem itself might have been my biggest stress, but it was actually my fear of getting sick while working down below in swelly warm conditions (sadly I get sick sometimes, and when it happens on my own boat I get so upset), thankfully that did not happen this time, and I was able to replace the spewed coolant and broken belt and get the old girl singing again! Sounds simple, and in fact it is, but being my first time attempting such a feat, it felt huge. Anyway, I feel really grateful for the experience and as always am happy when my boat is all fixed up and healthy!

wondering how in the hell I am going to get this thing to fit :-)

wondering how in the hell I am going to get this thing to fit :-)

the ladies holding down the fort and sneaking photos while I got my hands dirty :-)

the ladies holding down the fort and sneaking photos while I got my hands dirty :-)