Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
the Big Island and Maui. It was late fall now, and the seas in the island channels could be
quite mean. I recalled when Gavin and I had sailed through this channel in September '86;
there was a strong twenty knot northeaster blowing, and we had had a very wild ride. My
very last position that I fixed on the chart was one hundred and fifty-seven degrees thirty
minutes west and nineteen degrees thirty minutes north. It was the last time I would use my
beloved, old bronze sextant!
As daylight emerged from a dirty, yellow sunrise, I knew I was in for it. The trades had
continued to freshen through the night. I looked about me. To my east was the tall mountain
of Mauna Loa, the tallest peak in the Pacific Ocean, reaching up to almost fourteen thou-
sand feet! Straight ahead I could make out Mount Haleakala, house of the sun on Maui; I
could not see Oahu, some one hundred and twenty miles to the northwest. I wearily went
up on deck, feeling the change of motion in Déjà vu. It was a shorter and less predictable
wave motion, due to the refraction and reflection of the waves between the landmasses. I
reefed the main to the middle reef and hauled down the large Genoa, bending on the small
working Genoa. I hauled in the sheets and put her nose to windward. I wanted to make as
much northing as I could before I was well into the channel. I could then turn and run more
comfortably west on a beam reach towards Oahu.
17
th
November: It was a grim day. The sudden, violent change in motion almost had me
throwing up over the side. I lost my appetite and wished fervently to just get this voyage
over with now. I put on warm clothes and sat in the cockpit with my ski cap pulled down
low. The wind had brought with it a chilly nip from the mainland. I disengaged the steering
vane and sat concentrating on sailing as fast and accurately as I possibly could. It helped
pass the time and took my mind off the discomfort of the passage of this notorious channel.
I felt at times that the strong gusts of wind funneling through the islands were all that
Déjà vu could handle. She was overpowered several times and slew around in the close,
rough troughs. I could not bear the idea of reefing the main down once again. I was rooted
to the spot in the cockpit. Quite frankly, I didn't care! I hung on to the tiller and cursed
Murphy when some large waves broke over the bow and came cascading down over the
spray dodger and into my face. Murphy's ears ought to have been ringing from my verbal
profanities.
All day and well into the evening the wind blew, and I was thrown about like a rag doll.
I would engage the vane to take pee breaks and to make hot cups of instant soup. At one
point, I even went below to try and sleep but could not.
The darkness of the night produced pinpricks of light from the sleepy islands.
