Haul-Out in the East Bay

On the way to Berkeley

Before

After

Aloha from the Berkeley Marine Center, where the Libertatia sits back in the water at the gas dock. The last few weeks have been busy as we worked everyday to rejuvenate the old gal after nearly 17 months of living aboard and over 5,000 miles at sea. We are all a little worn from our blast of work on the hard and boatyard living but we are quite pleased with the result of our efforts. The remain a multitude of above-the-water projects to address now that we are back afloat but below the waterline we did quite well.

The old look

The new look

As you can see from the pictures, the most striking change to the boat is the topside color. Although we loved our original black paint job, the Pettit polyurethane paint that we so very carefully applied a year and half ago was just blistering off because of the heat generated by the dark color. In places on the hull in the shade of the boomkin or the toerails, the paint was still in great condtition and it was obvious that the hot color was the issue. We spent a few days sanding off the remaining black paint, with great difficulty in some places, and decided on a cream color to replace it. Aside from the hull, we are going to stick with the same color scheme and hope to touch up everything (toe rails, rub, rails, cabin, trim, and spars) in the coming days. Even though we have been extraordinarily lucky when it come to the unseasonably great weather we've had while in Berkeley, it's still been difficult to find nice windows in which to paint. Between foggy mornings, dew, cold temperatures and early sunsets it's been a trick to apply paint and get it to skin over before the moisture settles in the afternoon. Despite the difficulty, we've been careful and have been generally successful in getting the paint to look good.

Seaworm damage

When we pulled here out we were pleasantly surprised to find no big surprises below the waterline. We knew of most all of the issues as we dove on the boat extensively while still in the warm waters of Hawaii. The one small surprise, however, was teredo worm damage on the leading edge of the rudder. While in Seattle we constructed a replacement for the old oak rudder, which was badly warped, and it was a bit of a shock to see the first inch of the year-old sapele wood riddled with small holes and tunnels. Of all the things that we had read about when it comes to operating and maintaining a wooden boat, seaworms were definitely the scariest and most mysterious of the issues that we had yet to encounter and it was actually kind of cool to get some experience dealing with the little buggers. Our fix consisted of carving out and opening up as much of the tunneled area as we could, filling with penetrating and then thickened epoxy, and finally covering the entire rudder with a thin layer of thickened epoxy in hopes of keeping out the worms in the future. This is definitely an area we will keep an eye on as time goes by...


Aside from the rudder, our other under-the-water projects included a few small spots on the deadwoods where we excised some punky wood and replaced it with new graving pieces, a fill and a scarf on the sternpost where our former boomkin bobstay chainplate had ripped out (it was lagged in, unfortunately, to avoid the rudder post), the move of the two remain boomkin bobstay chainplates to provide a better angle of support for the boomkin, and the replacement of the old cutlass bearing. 

Of anything during the haul-out, we spent the most time prepping and painting the bottom. We removed the remaining ablative paint with the yard's vaccuum sanders and scraped off the pooched-out seam sealer that had squeezed out a touch as the planks swelled up. Before painting the old cast iron keel we put a lot of energy into cleaning the metal with a pneumatic "needler," hitting it with a wire cup on an angle grinder, and wiping it down before applying two coats of a Rustlok primer and the bottom paint. We were very generously given over five gallons of Trinidad hard anti-fouling paint which we applied before slopping on the ablative paint we had purchased for the job. In Hawaii we had been frustrated by the bottom job we had and it will be exciting to see how our careful prep and paint holds up in the coming years. 

Aside from the paint it was very cool to see how well the boat has held up since we launched her in July of 2010: a testament to the quality of materials and craftsmanship that went into her when she was built. There is no doubt that many people have given her a lot of love over the years and really it's not much of surprise that she remains pretty sound for yet another year.

Our experience in the yard in Berkeley has been great. Cree and the team have been very good to us and it's been a real pleasure to be here. It's been nice to be in a yard with other do-it-yourselfers as well as watching the pros at work. One of the highlights for all of us has been watching Steve Hutchison doing a number of extensive repairs to a couple of old wooden fishboats. I think that we've always been intimidated by the prospect of larger repairs but to see guys blazing through serious projects gives us a new perspective. Hopefully we'll never have to do them though...

As usual, our time in the yard was brightened by many friends, old and new, who came to visit, help-out, serenade us, or just to hang out. We definitely couldn't have accomplished what we did with such ease or in the time we spent out of the water without the encouragement and hard work of a number of people. Although our boat-yard scene was still a far cry from the wildness of our time in South Park, it was fun to be back camping in the yard and reminiscing about our restoration. Although living in a boatyard is not what we want to do, it sure can be fun in small doses. When we were ready for a break all we had to do was walk out of the yard and we were in Cesar Chavez Park, looking out across the bay at the city and the golden gate to the west.

Now that we are back in the water we are shifting gears out of full-on work mode. After a break for the holidays, we hope to settle into a routine of chipping away at our project list, working and saving money, planning our coming adventures aboard the Libertatia, and having a lot of fun! Happy Holidays to all of you who are reading this and thanks for your interest and support. Our big thanks go out to everyone who helped out on the boat or given us materials this time around. We couldn't do it without you. Feel free to contact us and until next time...


For more pictures of our haul out click here

Aloha San Francisco!

Aloha to all of our friends from beautiful San Francisco Bay! We passed under the Golden Gate on the morning of September 27th, eating sushi in the sunshine, after a 37-day passage from Kalalau Valley on the island of Kauai.

Jenine enjoys a calm sunset

Our trip was a long one but a good one and was characterized by very light winds throughout the passage, from the day after leaving Hawaii to just before hitting the West Coast. This gave us plenty of time for reading, writing, playing music, talking, swimming, eating, relaxing, thinking, and just sitting still. Sleeping was easy in gentle seas and the weather was generally quite pleasant: days were generally bright and without rain and nights were more often than not clear and starry. The heaviest weather we saw was about 30kt winds and 10ft seas but it lasted for less than 24 hours.

Duskin at the helm

Our stores were plentiful enough to get us through the passage, which was longer than we expected, and when we arrived in the Bay, we probably still had enough water and provisions to turn around and sail back to Hawaii. The early days in the passage were actually mostly a race to consume all of the fresh produce that was generously bestowed upon us by our friends on Kauai. By the end, however, we were on the rice and bean diet (and quite happy with it!).

Loaded with food and leaving Kauai

The boat did well along the way: our main issue was sail chafe in light airs as the swell moved us about. We had a few minor mishaps and gear mess-ups but for the most part Libertatia did quite well. She is not quite a light-wind speedster and it was nice that the long passage was peppered with days of decent breeze.

After a victory lap around the bay we returned to Aquatic Park off Ghiradelli square, where we had been one year ago, and spent the afternoon on the beach playing, swimming, and relaxing with friends old and new. A touch colder than Hanalei but the same idea...

Now we plan on being in the bay for a spell in order to attack the long list of boat projects while spending time with friends, saving up money, regrouping, and refining the vision for our group and our future together. 

The crew

Stay tuned as we will be updating the blog with more content including a more detailed log of our passage. Our apologies for the delays in blog posts. For more pictures click here

Mahalo nui (many thanks) to all of you who have helped us and had us in your thoughts during this last passage. See you out there...

Lahaina and a Quick Trip to Moloka'i - June 2011

Sunset over Moloka'i

Ahoy everyone! I am writing from the comfort of our very own Libertatia, living large with wi-fi internet at anchor.  We are currently anchored in the mooring field off downtown Lahaina, on the west side of Maui, enjoying relatively calm conditions. There is a bit of a swell that keeps us moving at anchor but it's minor compared with some of the places we've visited over the past few weeks. Plus, a swell in Lahaina means waves on the beach on both sides of the entrance to the harbor. The waves here, mostly small during the summer, were surfed by Hawaiian royalty. The water gets a little crowded during the day, as Lahaina is something of a local surf spot as well as be a tourist metropolis, but the early morning is manageable. The moon, now just past full, has also provided enough light for some night-time surfing. We have all the waves to ourselves and the experience is something like a dream, sliding down peeling, curling moonlit glass. Just take a moment to ask permission and give thanks to Uncle Mano (shark) before you hop in.

Downhill through the Pailolo Channel, on our way to Lahaina

Once again, our apologies go out to everyone for failing to keep everyone abreast of our current whereabouts and latest adventures. Much has come to pass and since we last wrote, so keep checking as I do some back-logging to record and share the complete story of our travels. Unfortunately, the blog program does not allow me to rearrange the order of the blogs posts so things will be a little out of order. Also, Jenine has been posting pictures on here personal blog at: http://jenineadam.blogspot.com. Check it out!

Honolua Bay

We arrived in Lahaina on the 10th of June after a great passage from the Big Island and a short stay in Honolua Bay to the north. Honolua Bay, was serene and peaceful when we arrived in the evening, just in the lee of the northernmost tip of Maui. We were surprised in the morning, when, after a much needed lengthy sleep, we awoke to see the beach covered with people and multiple large charter catamarans coming into the bay. We soon learned that the bay is a preserve of sorts and that it is one of Maui's premier snorkel destinations. The healthy reef and lack of fishing pressure really made for some cool underwater explorations: large ulua only several feet away, huge balls of aholehole, puffers, manta rays and more. Through talking to the landowners on shore, we found out that the bay (after which a hawaiian surf brand is named) is one of the world best surf breaks when it receives a big north swell in the winter. The folks on shore had a nice little garden with kahlo (taro), banana, edible hibiscus, coconut palms, manioc, and sweet potato, continuing the tradition of people living in the little valley back from the beach. Verdant and lush tucked between the dry, thorny surrounding hills, the valley had been a village site up until the valley was hit by a tsunami in the mid 1900's. The cement steps of the church are still in place under a mango tree along the path and the remnants of stone walls and terraces that formed the lo'is along the stream are still in places (lo'i is the name for a flooded garden area where Hawaiian people cultivated wetland varieties of kahlo). Seems like it would have been a nice place to live.

Unlike last time we arrived in Lahaina, when we dropped the hook to the north of town in Mala Bay, we came hot off our downwind blast from Honolua and cruised right for the main mooring field just off the downtown. We had hopes of picking up a Lahaina Yacht Club mooring, but all were taken, either by visiting cruisers or by dead, mast-less boats which have been sitting for who knows how long. We were advised by our neighbor Rick, aboard his boat "Lazy Days," that there was some decent holding right amidst the moorings so we dropped the anchor, backed down on it, and called it good. 

We quickly began to take advantage of what town has to offer: Jenine took a fresh-water shower, we bought a few vegetables, and we all got on the internet. As Jenine and Lowell will tell you, Lahaina as a town is not my favorite. The main drag is a bit like Kona on steroids: a true American consumer vacation world, but the land is great. Lowell told me that he learned the other day that it is one of, if not the, sunniest places in the Hawaiian Island (the average annual rainfall is 13"!). As an anchorage, it is exposed to the southwest but is really in the lee of the prevailing easterly trades. The strong winds blasting down through the Pailolo Channel in between Maui and Molok'a'i seem to peter out just north of town and the average day breeze from the south never gets too strong. The fact that it was home to the Hawaiian royalty, before and after being taken by Kamehameha, goes to show how nice it is. A few fishponds, more coconut trees, some lo'is full of kahlo, and you'd really have something... Just towards the south end of town there is a small park with a thatched hale (house) and something of a canoe and cultural center. It's nice to find a small oasis of culture and learning amidst the chaos and hopefully we'll come to know the folks that hang around there. They are just putting the finishing touches on a new voyaging canoe (fabricating spars, wooden hardware, steering oars, etc.) with aspirations of serious ocean travel. No bolts, all lashing. Quite phenomenal. We'll try to get some pictures to show you all.

We spent our first days in Lahaina continuing the never-ending process of cleaning and organizing the boat and getting in touch with the world. We had been brainstorming and thinking about money-making possibilities on Maui on our way here but on our third day here, Lowell unexpectedly received a reply from someone who had posted a salmon fishing job in Alaska on Craigslist. After a short discussion, a phone call, and an hour on the internet, Lowell had himself a two-month job and a plane ticket to Hawaii. What an insane and incredible world we live in! 

South coast of Moloka'i

After taking an evening to adjust to the sudden change in our collective future, we woke up in the morning and, upon discovering that the water tanks were empty, decided to sail to Moloka'i. Last time we filled up the the tanks in Kaunakai Harbor, we were delighted by the water quality and ease of tying up to the pier in the sleepy little harbor. We ended up pulling up the anchor around midday, riding the southerly breeze until it faded in the face of 20-25 knots coming down the channel. It was a delightful downwind run through the Kalohi Channel, averaging around seven knots under a reefed mizzen, stays'l, and jib (eventually reducing to only the jib). We caught an aku for dinner and before we knew it were entering the harbor and easing into the lee of the pier. Although it is always thrilling to arrive in a new place, there is something very comforting about dropping anchor in a familiar port. We filled the tanks at the pier, dropped the hook in between some cruising friends aboard their boat the S/V Sequoia and Kaunakakai's very own Stretch, aboard his 50 foot-ish Ed Monk designed schooner, Doubloon.  

Moloka'i bond

We ended up spending two nights in the harbor, did some laundry at Hawaii's most marine-accessible laundromat, cruised around the peaceful little town, and checked out the excellent library. The highlight of our short stay was, however, making the acquaintance of Iruka the morning after our arrival. I was stretching on the pier's only patch of grass, just outside the bathrooms, when Iruka asked if I was off the black boat in the harbor. From there we quickly launched deep into a somewhat frenetic conversation about the boat, largely fueled by Iruca's intractable zeal for square-rigged vessels. The talk soon jumped to the future of sailing to Iruca's birth and life at sea to the future of sailing to the youth of Moloka'i to the possibility of inter-island sail-based trade to possible rig alterations for Libertatia to surfing   and soon enough we were continuing our conversation onboard around the settee. We spent several hours talking and brainstorming and left with much to think about. Since then we've been talking up the idea of sail transport to and from Moloka'i and it seems like we are drumming up some excitement. We'll see if it can become a reality but, as I wrote in an email to the folks involved in "Sustainable Moloka'i," even a couple of exploratory trips would teach us a lot and provide an example of what sustainable inter-island transport might look like in the future. We'll keep you all posted. 

Early morning calm outside Kaunakakai

The next morning we split early, sailing off the anchor and then out of the harbor with a little auxiliary assist from one of the dinghies.  We had the engine in neutral just in case but we've been getting better and better at diesel-free maneuvering in tight spaces. We've just got to keep practicing and we'll be pretty good.

Before we knew it we were beating up the reef on the south side of Moloka'i in 25 to 30 knots with loads of spray coming over the deck. We then headed off into the channel towards the center of Lanai and we were lifted slowly and steadily until we were laying Lahaina. Nothing like the joy at being lifted through 90 degrees before you're pointed right at your destination!

The trip back to Lahaina from Kaunakakai ended up taking just over six hours while the trip there took just over five. Pretty good: the steady trades in this part of the world are quite a blessing. Just as with the strong, consistent winds in the San Francisco Bay, it's easy to see how sailboats could be used very efficiently to move cargo and travel around. What a dream!


Back in Lahaina, we continued work on the boat while Lowell got himself ready for the frozen north. As always, we have a list of projects to do, whether they are critical, are a good idea, or would just be nice to have done. Our friend Ed, who lives on his catamaran Quixotic, told us that it took him a few years to get his boat dialed in and I think it'll take that long for us too. Slow and steady....

Life and death on the beach near Paia

The night before Lowell left we had a sunset picnic near the Mala wharf to celebrate our birthdays and commemorate Lowell's departure. The next morning we took the bus to the town of Paia before dropping Lowell off at the Kahalui airport. 

Asleep in Paia

Paia was a nice town with more of our flavor than Lahaina. It still had the same built-up, commercialized feel but felt closer to the earthy, down-home Maui that must exist somewhere. We are excited to explore and meet kindred spirits further east, out towards Hana.

For now it's just Jenine and I, taking care of the boat in Lahaina and contemplating our next move: cargo runs to Molokai, landscaping in Haiku, sunday beach party at Makena beach, Hanalei bay on Kauai ... we'll see! It's all possible.

North from Kona - May 2011

Goodbye Kona Vog! (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vog)

(Note: See below for a more recent post. Sorry things are out of order!)

We left the mooring in Kailua Bay on May 18th. By this time we had begun to make friends, we knew where all the good coconut palms were, we had dialed in fishing from the boat, and we had settled into routines of yoga and pick-up soccer but it was time to get out of the city. We said our goodbyes to our friends on shore and spent a good long time stowing the live-aboard mess we had created by staying at anchor for so long.

Lowell even had time to squeeze in a small repair on the starboard cap rail where the old teak had given way. When we built the new toe-rail, we pulled out the old teak cap rails and Vincent spent some time filling checks with epoxy, sanding, fairing, and sanding again. We ended up using all but one of the old sections. Although a lot of the wood is still quite sound, there are a lot of places that look a bit rough, especially where the wood is stressed by the lifeline stanchions. For now, I suppose we'll just keep repairing sections as we go.

The morning of arrival we were joined by our friend Taylor, who we had met along with his lady Lara, in Hilo some months ago. Lara and Taylor had been traveling around the big island in their Westfalia Van and weathering their "saturn return" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saturn_return). Taylor had expressed interest in traveling with us so we invited him for a northward jaunt.

We dropped the mooring in the early afternoon and sailed north with a fresh breeze, out past the "Pride of America," a cruise ship. We stopped at Honokohau Harbor for water and fuel and after we were all tanked up, we cruised around the harbor harvesting coconuts. Unlike in Kona-town, where most every tree was trimmed, at the harbor we found many trees loaded with nuts and aided by our friend Shane and his pick-up truck, we got plenty.

As it was late in the day, the harbor was quiet and we had some space to get in and out. Our boat is big and heavy and we are still learning how to manuever in tight spaces, under power and sail. As the sun set and we prepared to leave, the wind died and we got a good chance to try pulling Libertatia  wih one of the dinghies. It was hard work but we had the boat moving until we ran into the chop just outside the harbor. Maybe two dinghies! We are also thinking of a sculling oar and large sweeps that we can row from the side deck. One day ...

Auspicious signs on the way out of Honokohau

We left the harbor and sailed into the night up to the familiar anchorage at Makalawena. We spent the next morning swimming, yoga-ing, and hanging on the boat until we were joined by our friends Dustin and Angelique who had walked down from the highway. We all piled on the boat and we were off bound for Puako.

The weather was a dream, clear and blue, and the wind picked up to a steady 10-15 knots as we pulled up the hook. We sailed off the anchor, a la Eric Hiscock, tacking back and forth and pulling in the slack as we sailed forward, eventually popping the anchor out of the sand. We scooted downwind for about five hours, cracking and eating macadamia nuts, drinking coconuts and making coco coir cordage from dried husk. We were able to make about six feet of twine from about one eight of the husk of a medium sized coconut. Pretty good.





We arrived in the evening in Puako and anchored off Neil Young's house. We took Dustin and Angelique into shore and picked up a few more friends, who we had planned to meet. A few weeks earlier, Lowell and I had been hitchhiking in Waimea and we were picked up by a woman named Amanda. We only rode with her a short way, but we hit it off talking about voyaging and farming and she took us down to check out the anchorage at Puako. We exchanged info and we gave her a call on our way to Puako. She, her sweetie Kehea, and their friend Matt came out to see the boat in the half-light  before we all went back to their house for dinner. We had a great time talking and eating delicious food but the highlight certainly a late-night mango and coconut harvest mission while the homemade mango ice cream thawed. Very very fun. These are the kind of people we want to be hanging out with. The night was then topped off with an exciting two-pudgy row back out to the boat.

The next day it was off to Mahukona, again a delightful sailing day. We arrived at our destination in the early afternoon so we decided to keep sailing a bit and dip out into the famous Alenuehaha channel. Sure enough the wind quickly switched and came on strong from the northeast. We sailed out towards Maui for a while before turning back. It was great fun and good practice to go for a sail in heavy weather with out any particular destination in mind. We have had figuring out our best sail arrangement going to weather in a heavy breeze and we got to try all possible combinations. Although we did well with what we've got, another reef in the mizzen would be nice to have.

After our little runabout, we cruised back into the lee of Hawaii Island, arriving at Mahukona in the near dark. We could see any good sandy patches and soon enough it was too dark to see so we went around the corner to the north to Nishimura Bay. Our friend Chris, who we met on Molokai, gave us GPS coordinates for the place he anchored in Nishimura and we dropped the anchor in the dark (Since we met Chris we have been recording our anchor coordinates; you can tell if your dragging and anchor, you can safely anchor in the dark, and you can share them with your friends!)

We awoke to find ourselves alone in a beautiful little bay with a nice sandy bottom, surrounded by fish, and under Hawaii's navigation heiau on the hill to the north...

March 2011 - A Tour of Molokai, Lanai, and Maui

After returning to Hilo from the jungles of Puna, we set about making Libertatia again fit for the open ocean. We had a handful of projects we needed to complete before setting sail, a lot of organization and stowage to do and a whole list of other things that we would like to get done. Many of these non-critical projects fell by the wayside but by the end, we had things looking pretty ship-shape and, after a seemingly endless string of dinghy trips to shore, we had mostly-full fuel and water tanks. Luckily, our time spent working on the boat was punctuated by farewell visits from many of the friends that we had met during our time in Hilo and we made sure to make time for one last hurrah on the Sunday night before we departed, backing up our friend Ydine at a “goddess-themed” music show just outside of Hilo. Of course a late night, a few last-minute tasks, and a drumset to break down made for a late departure the next day, but we hoisted sails and were outside the breakwall by one o’clock.

Lowell and Vincent enjoy our final days in Hilo Bay, watching the sunset over Mauna Kea.

            As we had experienced on our initial approach to Hilo, the sailing in the waters off Hilo bay and along the northeast shore of the big island can be quite frustrating: again we found ourselves in light wind, bouncy seas and a fair current pushing us to the southeast. It became overcast late in the day and showered periodically throughout the night as we flopped around, making headway into the NNW winds and then losing it to the current. With all sails up we tacked further and further to the northeast in order to avoid the strongest flow close to shore and by morning we found ourselves well north but slightly east of Hilo. We stuck with it for a while, despite the discomfort of the large chop, and as we entertained thoughts of firing up the engine, the wind picked up and we began to make some headway. Throughout the day, the wind remained steady and continued to blow between 5 and 15 kt. Jenine manned the helm for most of the day and quickly proved herself an excellent skipper, after initially taking a few hours to allow her childhood sailing experience to bubble up from the depths of her memory. Lowell and I generally split the night watch and although Jenine ended up do much of the driving during the day, cameo appearances were made by Damon, Wai’ele and Naomi.

            The overcast skies and light winds made for a few days of sailing that seemed to blur together. As we headed up the coast of the big island, the wind clocked slowly around to the north and then to the northeast and we were able to point above Maui, back to our planned course. We continued along, passing some distance north of Maui and Molokai, giving ourselves plenty of sea room. Unfortunately, this meant that we missed seeing the beauty of the windward shores up close and next time I think we will try to get a bit closer.

            The impetus for the trip, and especially our quick departure, was that Jenine’s and my mother, Nancy, was on Kauai for a conference. Between leaving the farm in Puna and Nancy’s departure from Hawaii, we had a relatively short window in which to hang out with her on Kauai. Our languid first day of sailing put our original ETA into question but we were still looking good as we passed Molokai. As we listened to the weather we learned that a low-pressure system was approaching the islands from the southwest and was whipping things up a bit, especially in the Kauai channel. We decided to pass through the     channel, between Molokai and Oahu, in order to be close to shelter should we need to run in but also to be in a good position to reach across on the forecasted southerlies, should we decided that we could make it to Kauai. We passed through the channel at night and again found ourselves flopping about as the wind died. We awoke to see Diamond Head in the distance to the west and we fired up the engine for a spell before the wind built from the southeast as the low approached us. We cut across the Penguin Bank at the southwesternmost tip of Molokai and headed for Lono Harbor (Hale o Lono) in the company of many Humpback whales. We entered the harbor in the mid-afternoon, dropped the hook and Tahiti-moored to a cleat on an old wall on the north side of the Harbor. We were greeted by Ula, the dog, who jumped off the wall and swam over say hello as we all took a moment to enjoy the peace and stillness of the harbor.

           

Damon on the bow, the evening of our arrival to Hale o Lono

Lono Harbor, we were told during our stay, was originally built as a port for ships and barges carrying sand from Molokai to create the beautiful white sand beaches of Oahu. Sand was harvest on the west coast of Molokai, trucked over land and then dumped off the cliffs above the harbor, from where it was shuttled on to the barges. The east breakwater also served as a small airstrip and dolphins (small pier-like structures with bollards) surround the harbor for securing ships and barges. The name comes from a demi-god, Lono (hale is the Hawaiian word for home), who inhabited a cave at the base of the cliffs above the harbor. Our friend Chuck, sole resident and caretaker of the harbor, thought that the cave must be buried behind the residual pile of sand.

          

Chuck's water condo and sloop tucked into the east end of Lono Harbor

            We ended up spending a week in Lono. During the first few days, rain kept us inside the boat and brought an extraordinary amount of moisture to the arid landscape. We did some work on the electrical system, installed our chartplotter (generously gifted to us), and did a fair amount of reorganization. When the sun came out a few days later, we moved outside and did a handful of projects. After some underwater inspection we discovered that the chainplate for the boomkin bobstay was quite loose. With some wiggling and release of tension on the turnbuckle, it just fell out. After some scrutiny, we decided that the lag bolts used to fasten the chainplate were undersized and too old (the threads were somewhat worn). In order to fix the issue while in the water, we didn’t have much of a choice but to refasten the chainplates with larger lags and readdress the issue we next haul out. 

Lowell tears into the electrical system

The most interesting operation, however, was tipping the boat in order to touch up the bottom paint just below the waterline on the starboard side. We did it by tying two lines to the port rail, running them under the boat, and attaching them to a dolphin on the south side of the harbor (the bow was pointing east). Then we ran two lines from separate dolphins on the north side of the harbor through temporary blocks affixed at the spreaders on both masts and down to the winches at the base of each mast. We slowly tipped her over, winching alternately on the main and mizzen mast lines, until we had just over a foot below the waterline exposed amidships. We also took advantage of the opportunity to touch up the topside paint, which had also suffered damage due to having the dinghies tied alongside at our bouncy anchorage in Hilo. We were also able to do a bit of exploration around and walked several times to the town of Maunaloa, five miles away. Much of the western side of Molokai is owned by a New Zealand-based company under the name Molokai Ranch. We were told that the company had tried to build a high-end development on the southwest tip of the island but that the people of Molokai had effectively prevented it. In response, the company closed the ranch, putting over one hundred people out of work, turning Maunaloa into somewhat of a ghost town, and denying access to all lands owned by the ranch. (Note: Unfortunately we've had technical difficulties with my camera and don't have many pictures of our time in March)

Jenine and Wai'ele enjoy the Hale o Lono sunset

 

            The land around Lono Harbor is obviously very dry but we were able to be there at a relatively verdant time. The landscape is dominated by kiawe (mesquite) trees originally brought to the island as bee fodder by apiaries. Although beautiful and extremely well-suited to the climate, the thorns of the kiawe make for painful travel with bare feet or even with sandals. Beneath the kiawe trees were mostly grasses, lush and green at the time of our visit but no doubt browning quickly after the departure of the spring rains. Our walks to Maunaloa took us up the dry hillside and into wetter areas as we rose in elevation. Just as we reached town, we would come over a crest that seemed to be something of a division between windward and leeward side and would find a wetter climate with different trees species and taller grass. On the road, we would also go through areas rich in red clay, clearly showing the age of the island as compared to the fresh black rock and coral sand beached of the big island. The coastline in the area is made of narrow and extremely beautiful white sand beaches, behind a reef stretching along the entire shore and divided occasionally by rocky outcroppings. At almost any time, humpbacks were visible spouting, breaching, or with tail in air, enjoying the relative calm in the lee of the island.  

            After bidding farewell to Chuck and Ula aboard their “water condo” (a retired scuba catamaran without a mast), we departed for Kaunakakai, the main port on Molokai. We made our way out into the Kalohi channel (“rascal” in Hawaiian), and beat upwind in 20-25 kt and 4-6 ft seas. This was the hardest we had sailed the boat upwind at the time and although she doesn’t point too well, she does just fine to weather. Again in the company of whales, we dipped in and out of the lee of the towering eastern side of Molokai and eventually arrived in Kaunakakai as night fell. We dropped anchor in the glow of the lights on the pier next to another Ed Monk boat, “Doubloon,” and met her owner, Stretch, on shore shortly thereafter. We took a late walk into town to find the fabled Molokai bread company, which serves bread from an alley doorway beginning at 9:00 PM. We were successful in our mission and promptly devoured a cinnamon/cream cheese loaf, leaving us in extreme need of a good tooth brushing. We had considered departing Kaunakakai the next day but instead decided to spend the day resting and doing errands in town. The town itself was not too large and had an end-of-the-world, frontier feel, pushed up against the ocean against a backdrop of steep, vast green hills carved by rocky canyons and disappearing into thick clouds swirling around from the windward side. We were able to explore one canyon just above town and standing on its rim, looking up the slopes and down at the harbor below, we could better see and feel the wild vastness of the island. That evening, we were able to fill our water tanks on the pier before the arrival of the foot-ferry from Maui and we re-anchored, planning to make an early start in the morning. We were enjoying a relaxing evening until we received a call from Vincent reporting the earthquake in Japan. We knew that we had many hours before the arrival of a wave so we began slowly getting things together as the forklifts and trucks drove off the pier for higher ground. The warnings sirens began to sound around nine or ten and the pier became quite busy as people came to pull boats out of the water. We even received a visit from a woman that we met earlier in the day, who came down to check on us. Luckily, we were nearly ready to take off and we had time to take it easy before pulling up the dinghies and leaving around midnight. Although our original thought was to head further east along the coast of Molokai before jumping over to Maui, we decided that heading to Lanai would also be fun and would put us in deeper water, in addition to making for an easier night of sailing. 

The west coast of Lanai

We headed off on a broad reach and were several miles off the west coast of Lanai when the tsunami arrived. Much to our disappointment, we didn’t feel a thing. The next morning we continued south slowly along the Lanai coast before looking at our chart and deciding to double back a bit in order to anchor off the pinnacles at Nanahoa, right in the armpit of the west side. We spent four days there and our adventures were many: swimming with dolphins, exploring the hillsides, exploring the shorelines, and trekking into the town of Lanai City. 

Lowell at home in the canyons of Lanai

The coastline along the west coast of Lanai was incredible, mostly dominated by sea cliffs hundreds of feet above the rocks below. Being the leeward side of the island, the climate was again quite dry and the hills were covered with grasses, kiawe, and exposed rock and home to deer, sheep, and goats. The slopes were carved by a great many small valleys or canyons, most of which terminated atop the cliffs and would send water vaulting out into the ocean when water was moving over the landscape. 

Our anchorage off the Pinnacles

Some canyons did make it down to the shore and left huge fins and narrow ridges between them and the ocean. Being in the canyons themselves was reminiscent of wandering through the dry creek beds and deep valleys of the southwest, complete with red muddy soil on the canyon floor.

The Lanai coastline

We had heard of deep clear water where you could watch your anchor drop all the way to the bottom and we found it off Lanai. At one point I was replacing corroded nuts on the rudder shaft and jumping in with wrenches in hand, I lost my snorkel mask off my face. I was able to hop out of the water onto the boat, put on goggles and jump back in only to watch the mask drift slowly to the bottom. It hit bottom about sixty feet below, very small but clearly visible. I rigged up a two-hook salmon fishing leader to the end of our lead line and after about 30 minutes of floating at the surface, dropping the lead as close as I could, and trying to drag the fish hooks over the mask I hooked the strap and brought it back up to the surface. Amazing.

We left Lanai bound for Lahaina, Maui with hopes to meet up with friends from Hilo who were on a short trip to the other islands. We headed south along the coastline of shear cliffs with a nice breeze behind us. The wind quickly died as we turned to head east, however, and we inched along under the enormous rock faces. Here we saw a few seabirds that seemed to be nesting on or at least hanging out near the cliffs, a sight that we have found to be quite rare in the islands. Especially compared to back home on the Puget Sound with its gulls, terns, ducks, geese, cormorants, alcids, and others, Hawaii seems to be mostly devoid of birds on the water. 

Tsunami survivors Jenine and Emmett

We flopped around and motor-sailed for a while until we were in the channel between Lanai and Maui, with the grand mountains and valleys of west Maui hills approaching steadily. Looking at a chart or a satellite image of the islands, it is clear that the ocean bottom between Molokai, Lanai and Maui is not too deep, especially compared to the channels between the other islands and surrounding ocean. It seems that this, combined with the relative calm in the lee of Maui, creates an ideal hang-out zone for whales and we were surrounded by humpbacks as we came closer to Lahaina. We ended up anchoring just north of town in Mala Bay, at the northern end of the mooring field. There we were excited to find boat people, cruisers and liveaboards alike. We met some very nice folks from Alaska aboard a true home-made Alaskan sloop: steel with a stainless companionway hatch that looked like a vault door and pressure treated cockpit combings. Although it was initially fun to wander the tourist-packed streets of the town, the glamour quickly wore off and were left feeling so-so about Lahaina. We did have some great fun there, however, visiting with our lovely friends from Hilo, busking on the street, raiding coconut palms, and working on the boat. We even had a chance to get out of town and take the bus over to Paia to visit family of Wai’ele’s. This little excursion gave us a taste of the Maui that we would probably enjoy more than Lahaina and as we get closer to summertime and the north swell dies down, hopefully we will get a chance to cruise by the north sides of the islands and explore a bit more. 

Approaching the Maui, just south of Lahaina

We left Lahaina for the southern tip of Maui, in preparation to jump off for the big island. Just south of town, we encountered some of the most variable winds I have ever seen: steady 15 kt winds dying and shifting and then coming from the opposite direction. It seemed apparent that this area was the meeting place of the air coming around the north side of the island and the air coming over the isthmus and circling up under the western lobe of Maui. Sure enough, the wind steadied as we headed southwest and we made our way around the corner. As we came around, still in the lee of the mountains we could see the windmills spinning up on the hills and we were suddenly caught with too much sail up as the wind came over the eastern edge of the hills and pounded the water below. We were quickly hit by a few gusts of 30-35 kt and we had water through the ports in the cabin house as we heeled and rolled in the chop. We were able to drop sails, down to a reefed mizzen and forward stays’l, and continue on our way. The wind, although quite strong, came as the result of strong trades funneling over the middle of Maui. We sailed on and were able to drop anchor as dark fell, just north of Makena beach in windless but quite choppy conditions. 

The galley, complete with artwork by our friend Kiyana

Early the next morning, we were able to go for a swim and inspect the anchor which didn’t seemed to be in the best holding. We picked up the anchor, and after motoring a bit north and a bit south, decided that where we were before might be the best spot we could find. Anchoring again in the daylight, we found a better spot and spent the next couple days, readying the boat for the Alenuihaha. Mostly we were just making sure everything was battened down, but after we were finished organizing, the boat looked more ship-shape than ever.

We decided to make our crossing at night, with the hope that the breeze would be a little bit lighter and we picked a night where the forecasted winds were five knots lighter than the forecasted 30 knots for the rest of the week. After finishing our preparations in the mid-afternoon, we took some time to relax and check out the weekly Sunday beach party and drum circle at Little Beach (the nude beach just north of the main Makena beach park). This was, as expected, fun and weird and we left after a few hours to take off for Kona. We had an exciting, bouncy dinghy ride out to the boat and after a quick bite to eat and were headed out in the dark. We could hear the drums as we cruised past Little Beach and soon Maui disappeared into the dark.

We were definitely apprehensive as we approached the Alenuihaha, the channel between Maui and the big island. This channel has the reputation as being one of the more difficult stretches of water to cross in the world as the wind and current are funneled between the 3055 m Haleakala on Maui and the 4205 m Mauna Kea on the big island, while the ocean floor lifts from thousands of fathoms of depths to hundreds. The wind built slowly as we headed south and the near-full moon rose over the hills. Soon enough we were out in it, wind blowing 25 kt over 10-15 ft swells, dark and silver in the moonlight. We were prepared this time for a rise in the wind and reduced to reefed mizzen and forward stayls’l before we were overpowered.

The night was long and raucous, but far from unmanageable. The moon lit the way and the raw beauty of the ocean was intense as we rolled along and pounded into the oncoming waves. We were headed south when we entered the channel and concerned about making too much leeway towards Kaho’olawe but soon enough the wind started coming more from the north and we headed up towards the big island. We were still trying to point quite high to reach Kona but were moving very slowly (about three knots) and being set south by the current. The short period of the relatively large waves was preventing us from getting up boat speed but we trucked along and before too long the sun was rising over Mauna Kea. The wind held up for a while in the morning, died, and then built again before completely dying in the late morning. We were forced to fire up the engine and power the last 25 miles or so in the glassy calm, yet remarkable swelly waters to the northwest of Kailua- Kona.

The rest of our passage was without too much excitement. We all found some time to have a snooze and relax as we made our way south against the majestic backdrop of the west coast of Hawaii island, first the Kohala Mountains and then the dry, barren expanse of the Kona coast. On our way we discovered someone’s secret fish aggregation device (FAD), a wad of line, net, and other flotsam anchored to the ocean floor. The state has created many FADs around the state to provide micro-habitats and thus open-ocean hotspots for fishing. Sure enough, the water around the pile of junk was teeming with small fish and we saw several Mahi Mahi jumping as we cruised past.

We entered Kailua Bay under full sail (and a little bit of diesel power) as the sun was going down, tied up to the mooring (generously lent to us by our friend Melinda), and threw on the sail covers before piling into the dinghy and heading in to find Steve and Vincent waiting for us on the pier.  

Moored off Kailua-Kona