Cruising to the Big Island (sort of…..)
October 2007 was to be a month primarily dedicated to cruising the Hawaiian Islands. A month off from work before heading back to Alaska and then Guam for two different anesthesia assignments. A chance to give the boat a good shakedown and get a preview of what next Spring’s trip to the Big Island would be like when we head out for the Marquesas.
That’s what it was supposed to be………..
My first requirement was finding someone who could take two or three weeks to crew with me. I was able to pay airfare and expenses, but not a daily wage so I was limited to volunteers. An announcement on the SSCA and Cruiser’s Forum bulletin boards generated some interest and ultimately a volunteer from Hilo thanks to a notice posted at the Hilo Yacht Club by SkipperJohn.
My crewman joined me on Saturday, 6 October and the next morning we made a quick trip to the market for fresh fruits and veggies. We got underway from Ko ‘Olina about 1300 and motorsailed north up the Waianae coast until we started getting wind near Kaena Point. We had some fun sailing there, occasionally accompanied by some spinner dolphins, until we cleared the shelter of the point and started getting the swell and the full force of the trade winds.
Kaena Point and the Waianae Coast
The winds were easterly as usual and running right around 20 knots. With one reef in both the main and the foresail we were making about 5 kts heading north. The plan was to go north about 60 nm and then turn to a course of about 120 T to just skim the north coast of Maui. This was a very upwind course. I choose it because I’d never done any extensive sailing to windward with Aphrodite and I felt I needed to learn how she’d handle. It also avoided any channel crossings Finally, I knew that should there be any problems it would be a simple broad reach or run to get to help or safety.
Unfortunately, my crewman became seasick as we hit the swell at Ka'ena Point. Poor fellow had rather a rough time of it and his closest companion became my 5 gallon trash bucket on the rear deck.
As the day drew to a close we were sailing north in good order and I turned on the radar to watch for shipping during the night. From my berth in the stateroom I have a clear view of the radar screen and so am able to lay in comfort and watch for targets. I was surprised that we passed the night without registering a single contact. But so it was. The next morning found us about 65 nm north of Ka'ena Point.
I put us over onto a port tack and set the autopilot for my desired course. This brought us from a beam reach to pointing as close to the wind as we could manage. For Aphrodite, this is only about 45 deg. The new course also put us more directly into the waves so we in addition to making leeway from wind effect, we were often pushed to leeward by the waves. The motion of the boat became somewhat more unpleasant and my shipmate’s seasickness, which had improved somewhat overnight, was immediately worsened and he again had to take to using the bucket. But the daylight was cheerful and the sailing enjoyable except for being slow.
Whether because of Aphrodite’s hull design (she has a rounded shallow draft bottom with a retractable daggerboard keel), or because of the limitations of the Gallant Rig when going to windward, or my poor understanding of how best to trim this unconventional rig, or simply the effect of beating through four to six foot wind waves, we were unable to make better than about 3 kts. Nor were we able to stay within 30 degrees of our desired course.
I tried reducing sail to ease the heel and allow the keel to bite better, I tried increasing sail to get more speed, I tried trimming the sails in and out. All to no avail. I simply couldn’t maintain my desired course. We were making good a course of about 145 degrees when we needed 120 degrees. The only way I could make my course was to fire up the engine. With only 50 gallons of fuel and a couple of hundred miles to go that was not a viable option and we continued on as best we could.
So Monday the 8th of October passed, beating slowly to weather north of Oahu. Clearly this was going to be a long, arduous and unpleasant trip if I persisted with my plan. Evening came and I discussed the options with my shipmate. By this time I felt there were two: turn south into the Kaiwi Channel and then head east along the south coasts of Moloka'i and Maui to reach the Aleneuihaha Channel, or to follow the Kaiwi Channel south of Lana'i and head SE towards the tip of the Big Island, eventually turning back north to make landfall at Kailua-Kona. But I was concerned that my shipmate's seasickness hadn’t resolved and told him that I intended to put him ashore on Tuesday if he didn't show considerable improvement.
Monday night was uneventful except for the frequent rain showers around us. Throughout the night I was repeatedly working to verify that my radar targets were only shower activity rather than nearby ships. This made for a more tiring night.
Tuesday morning found us essentially due north of the windward edge of Oahu. Conditions had not changed and it was time to head south. I took another look at my shipmate and didn't think he would do well if we continued going to weather. I couldn't be sure that even a beam reach from the tip of Lana'i to the Big Island would be tolerable for him and I knew that the further east I went, the further I would be from help. So I decided to return to Honolulu and get him back on solid ground.
At 0830 we headed south into the Kaiwi Channel. The beam reach provided much improved motion and the trip became pleasant. A pleasure that grew even greater as we rounded Makapu'u Point for the run into Honolulu. Staying well outside the Diamond Head buoy to avoid the fate of the recently departed S/V Victoria (http://www.thehawaiichannel.com/news/14247724/detail.html?subid=10101241), ( http://the.honoluluadvertiser.com/article/2007/Oct/01/br/br8475120963.html), we both felt relaxed and comfortable as we passed Diamond Head and made our way to the fuel dock at Ala Wai.
Diamond Head
Earlier that morning I'd placed a call to Jerry Foster, the Waikiki Yacht Club Port Commander asking about possible transient moorage for a couple of days. With impeccable timing, he called while I was fueling just across the channel and gave me the good news that I could tie up for a few days. So, very gratefully, we moved over to our transient slip at the end of E dock and secured the boat.
In the comfort of the Waikiki Yacht Club bar I was able to go on-line and buy a return ticket to Hilo for my crewman while, now feeling quite human, he sipped his Mai Tai. We parted company then and I returned to the boat to start some minor repairs.
Sunset across Ala Wai Channel as seen from the Waikiki Yacht Club
By Friday morning I'd gotten the boat cleaned up, replaced my shore power receptacle and drained errant wash water from the bilge. I decided to push on to the Big Island alone. Friday morning was fair and the winds at the marina light so I decided to move the boat to Maunalua Bay in preparation for a dawn departure across the Kaiwi Channel to Moloka'i.
Nearly everyone seems to agree that the best way to cross the inter-island channels is during light winds. Since the trades blow 15 to 20 almost constantly, the only reliable easing comes with nightfall. Many people choose to make their crossings at night for this reason. But since I would be singlehanding, I did not relish the idea of having to keep watch all night in an area where fishing vessels, cruise ships, container ships and tugs with barges might appear at any time. So, by moving to Maunalua Bay I was several hours closer to the channel, and Moloka'i.
Maunalua Bay itself is rarely used as an anchorage. In fact, it's not even mentioned in Mehaffey's Cruising Guide to the Hawaiian Islands. Perhaps the fact that most of it is very exposed to the south swell accounts for this. Also the fact that it's quite shallow and you must work your way in next to the channel until you find a suitable sandy patch in the reef. But there are such spots, and once you get in far enough the swell is quite nicely diminished. In fact, there seem to be three or four boats permanently anchored in the area, although much closer to the shore than I cared to attempt.
Koko Crater seen from Maunalau Bay
Still, Maunalua Bay is a pleasant anchorage once settled. The wind funnels between Koko Crater and Koko Head and rarely changes direction and rarely drops below 10 kts. One reason, I'm sure, why several parasail boats operate there. The steady wind also keeps the wind generator pumping 5 to 10 amps into the batteries throughout the day and a good part of the night. The sandy spots provide adequate holding there for my 110 pound Bruce and its 85 feet of chain with five to eight feet of water under my keel. That's about as shallow as I like to get.
Taking the advice of the Mehaffey's (and many others), I arose before dawn on the 13th to start my coffee, warm the engine and make final preparations for the crossing to Moloka'i. The wind had died off quite a bit as I recall, so I had no problem winching in the rode and chain. But although the anchor came right up, I found that the trip line (I always have a trip line on a buoy) had gotten caught under a ledge of rock. Down went the anchor again! And so, with the sky still grey, I donned my snorkeling gear and dove down to free the line. With that done I got the anchor in and secured and set the autopilot on a course that would clear Koko Head with a safe margin.
Ah, what fine advice! The rising sun saw me passing south of Koko Head with sails set and the engine turning about 1500 rpm. I chose to motorsail across the channel since I'd mad such poor time beating to weather north of Oahu and I figured I'd have the same experience here. Since I wanted to cross the channel before the afternoon winds really set in I had to motorsail. It was a wonderful crossing: seas generally about 4 feet and winds about 15 kts most of the way. I was on my first real solo cruise and all was well.
But then I heard it. An irritating, grinding, high pitched noise that came and went as the boat moved. I quickly dashed below and determined that it was coming from the transom. Not good. Nothing there except steering cables, the linear drive for the autopilot and the exhaust. I shut off the autopilot – blessed silence. Even worse.
Quickly pulling off the transom access cover I peered inside while reactivating the autopilot. The horrible intermittent screeches returned and there, right before my eyes, I saw the source. The mounting bolts for the linear drive were loose and it was rocking back and forth as the tiller arm moved in and out.
I immediately shut off the autopilot again and began hand steering the boat. Fortunately, by this time I was only a couple of miles off La'au Point. A few miles further on was the refuge of Lono Harbor.
Lono Harbor is an interesting and little used anchorage, but quite popular with those who know it (http://hyccruisingsociety.com/2006%20cruises.html). It is very small, provides good protection from anything other than a direct south swell and has good holding. I was lucky to be arriving more than a week after the annual canoe race that starts there. This year the race received a lot of attention because one of the participants, Joseph "Nappy" Napoleon, was making his 50th consecutive run from Moloka'i to Honolulu (http://the.honoluluadvertiser.com/article/2007/Oct/03/ln/hawaii710030421.html).
The entrance to Lono Harbor is narrow and long. The range markers are easily visible from offshore, but they are unlit and a daylight entry is definitely preferred. Stray too far to right or left and you're on the reef! But it was only noon and the seas were pretty calm when I pulled into an empty Lono Harbor and dropped anchor in some 15 feet of water. A good place to tighten up my loose bolts and hope it solved the problem.
I ducked back into the stateroom with my flashlight and tools and set to work tightening the bolts holding the linear drive in place. I had to remove a speaker from the transom to get at it, but there was still precious little room. Such contortions! My arms were bruised from wrist to elbow by the time I had the bolts tight. I felt a sense of accomplishment then. But it was short lived, for the moment I turned on the autopilot to test the drive it quite completely and wouldn't move either in or out. My trip to the Big Island was over.
I sat there in Lono Harbor and had some lunch while I considered my options. I could stay there overnight and then return to Oahu, I could hop down to Lana'i and visit there before heading back, or I could push on another 12 nm to Kaunakakai. That wouldn't take more than 3 hours motorsailing and would give me good anchorage and a chance to visit Moloka'i for the first time.
So, again, up anchor and then out the channel with a close eye on the depth sounder and frequent glances over my shoulder at the range markers until I was well clear of the reef.
A few uneventful hours later I arrived at Kaunakakai and gratefully dropped anchor just behind the turning basin. I was somewhat sore from hand steering the boat from Lono Harbor and I was already dreading the task of hand steering her back to her slip at Ko 'Olina. But for now I had a new island to explore and some shopping to do.
Kaunakakai Dock and the Maui-Moloka'i ferry
Being in Konakakai brought me in range of a cell tower so I called my girlfriend Lisa in Anchorage and engaged her assistance in finding a new linear drive unit. She shopped on line and found a great deal at Dave's Marine. Especially great since he had an October special offering free overnight DHL shipping on orders over $500 or something. Well, the new linear drive was well over that price! But I know how "overnight" shipping is to Alaska and Hawaii and I had no faith it would arrive in less than 3 days. But on Monday morning Dave called me and confirmed my mailing address and said he'd try to get it out the same day. Since he was in Florida, I think, we were pushing the window on that.
I didn't expect DHL to get the package to Hawaii in less than 3 days so I confirmed my Ko 'Olina address on Oahu and set about enjoying Moloka'i for a few days since the trades were up a bit and I didn't want to face a channel crossing without an autopilot. In retrospect, I wish I'd given him a Kaunakakai address and just waited for it to come in.
In any event, my next requirement was to launch my dinghy so I could row to shore and check in with the Harbormaster. I'd spoken to him on the phone earlier in the day to get clearance but I still needed to see him, fill out the necessary papers and write the check for the moorage fee. Alas, his office was closed. So I rowed back to the boat.
There was still plenty of daylight so I had a chance to do something I'd not done in the year and a half since I'd bought it, namely, figure out how to get the outboard on the dinghy and start it up! It took a bit of experimenting to devise a secure harness to transfer the 55 pound outboard from the deck of the boat down into the dinghy and to set up a block and tackle to let me lift it easily. But, two hours later, the outboard was safely in the dinghy and I was happily motoring my way to shore in search of dinner. In view of the 20 to 30 knot easterlies that blew during the day, I was glad I went to the trouble of getting the outboard on the dinghy. I would have had a devil of a time rowing against that wind.
It's a 10 minute walk into Kaunakakai from the harbor and I soon found my way to the Paddler's Inn (http://paddlersinnmolokai.com/main.asp), one of the three bars on the island I was told. Not JUST a bar, of course, but a restaurant and local hang out. It provided me my first meal on the island along with a very cold beer. After that refreshing brew and a filling "luau plate" dinner I made my way back to the boat for a restful night.
Next day I rented a car from Island Kine Auto Rental (http://www.molokai-car-rental.com/). The cars aren't the newest, but the folks are very friendly and helpful. They picked me up at the harbor and drove me back there when I returned the car and the rates were reasonable. About $30 something per day with unlimited mileage.
Moloka'i isn't nearly as developed as Oahu, Maui or the Big Island. The guide books call it the "Friendly Isle" and sometimes the "Forgotten Isle" because it is so lightly developed. There is at least one resort on the island somewhere on the leeward shore and apparently there is some interest in further development judging from the vast number of "Save La'au Point" and similar signs I saw in yards and on cars around the island (http://www.molokaitimes.com/articles/6529142133.asp). But I wasn't here to investigate, support or oppose. I was here to explore.
The nice thing about going somewhere for the first time is that it allows you to be an explorer. No, you're not the first person to go there. You're not Cook or Magellan or Columbus. The world has grown too small for any of us to really do that on dry land. But still, there is an excitement, a joy, a pleasure of discovery that only comes when you visit a place for the first time. And that is what I looked forward to, and enjoyed, whilst driving around Moloka'i my first time.
Kaunakakai is the center of Moloka'i. It is the population center of the the island, the center of industry, the center of commerce. And it has not one single stop light.
The guide books will tell you all about the island – its history, its culture, it's scenery and tourist attractions. So, I won't.
What I will say is that there are many surprises that await you as you drive. Especially heading east toward the Halawa Valley. One of these is the great number of fish ponds. Most are incomplete. All are built of stones hand laid by industrious people many, many years before. The one exception is a fish pond looked after by Ray and his friend Robert.
Ray lives in a small hut remarkable for the piles of coconuts, hanging fruit, and a welcome sign, easily visible from the road as you drive by. I first noticed the hut while driving east toward Halawa Valley. On the return I drove by more slowly, but there didn't seem to be anyone there. Still, I wanted a picture of the fish pond and the hut. So I pulled off the road just west of the hut and got a nice picture of the pond.
Ray's Fish Pond
I then walked over to the driveway in front of the hut to get a picture of this most unique hut with its coconuts and hanging fruits and dogs laying in the drive. But, I'm always a bit leery of just walking up and taking a picture of a private place. So I yelled out "Hello, anyone here?" And a few moments later, amidst the barking of the dogs, I heard someone coming toward me. And there was Ray.
Fiendly and enthusiastic, Ray quickly invited me in and began to tell me about the fish pond. Originally built who knows how long ago, he became involved with it some ten or fifteen years earlier as a volunteer engaged in rebuilding it. Since then he has volunteered many hours and days helping to rebuild the wall by hand, teaching children and adults, locals and visitors, guests and friends about traditional Hawaiian ways and values.
Ray
About a year ago Ray retired from his mundane job and began living full time at the fish pond so he can keep a closer eye on it and devote more of his time to passing on ancient values and traditions. His friend Robert helps him. Robert stopped by with the night's dinner while Ray and I chatted.
Dinner was going to be an octopus that wasn't quite fast enough to escape. Robert prepared the octopus by kneading it in salt. Presumably that removed excess water from the animal. But I didn't stay to see how it turned out.
Robert's Octopus
In addition to rebuilding the pond and teaching the curious how to open and eat coconuts, Ray also teaches male hula. He invited me to come by for the lesson that weekend, but my destiny was elsewhere.
Miles to the east of the fish pond Ray looks after (I don't know if it has a formal name), lies the Halawa Valley; one of the most scenic spots on Moloka'i.
Halawa Bay
Halawa Bay sits at the northeast corner of Moloka'i and lies at the end of a dirt road. Fortunately, the paved road ends only a hundred yards or so from the bay itself. It is a popular tourist site and you may see as many as half a dozen rental cars parked at the end of the paved road.
Halawa Bay
Upstream from Halawa Bay is Halawa Falls. But to get there you need a guide since the access is over private lands. I didn't know that when I drove out and thus missed my chance to hike up to the falls. I know I missed a great opportunity, but I know it would be an all day trek to get there and back. Perhaps next time...........
North of Kaunakakai there is another scenic spot that allows an overview of the peninsula which housed the leper colony founded in the early 1800s. Kalaupapa is no longer the prison it once was. It is now a national historic site and visitation is possible, although regulated. It's a 1600 foot vertical climb in and out unless you fly in. So, you need to be in very good condition, or go on a tour and ride a mule.
Kalaupapa
Another interesting find, just on the other side of the parking area for the Kalaupapa overlook is the ancient Phallic Rock. The guide books say that women who could not conceive would go there to make sacrifice and spend the night to increase their chance of becoming pregnant.
Phallic Rock
I must say that when I first saw it the rock reminded me more of a sea turtle than anything else. But perhaps turtles are somewhat phallic in their own way – a train of thought that I think I'll derail for the moment.
But, back to the voyage.
On Thursday the 18th I turned in my rental car and returned to Lono Harbor so I would be poised for an early morning channel crossing. I expected the crossing to be somewhat strenuous since I would have to hand steer for several hours and the round bottom of Aphrodite makes her tend to broach if not held firm. (Hmmm, I'd best let that go by also). So I left Kaunakakai behind at about 1500 expecting to be in Lono Harbor before dark. But it was not to be.
Because I had to hand steer I was restricted to the cockpit. I was about 45 minutes out of Kaunakakai when I caught a glimpse of red light down in the nav station. That was disconcerting because the only red lights down there are warning lights that come on when a bilge pump is active. I watched for a while and, sure enough, I saw the main bilge pump light come on for a few seconds.
Now, the good news is that it wasn't staying on. The bad news is that it was coming on at all. Water belongs outside the boat, not in it! I cut the engine back to idle and rushed below to look in the main bilge and, sure enough, there was about two inches of water in the well. Not a lot, but two inches more than there should have been.
I thought back to the last time I checked the bilge when I arrived at Kaunakakai. It was dry then. What had happened since to bring in water? Was it still coming in? Was I in danger?
I kept a close eye on the water level, stopping every 10 minutes or so for the next half hour or more to make sure that the water level wasn't rising. Sure the bilge light was coming on, but only when the boat rolled to starboard. As the automatic pump switch was on the starboard side, that made sense. I reasoned that I was safe as long as the light ONLY came on when the boat rolled to starboard. If it stayed on continuously, I was in trouble.
By now it was faster to continue on to Lono Harbor than to turn back to Kauankakai. I knew that if I started taking on water uncontrollably that I could beach the boat in Lono Harbor. If I turned around it would take longer to get back and I would be beating to weather thereby increasing the stress on the boat and possibly causing a faster accumulation of water. Since I had no idea where the water had come from, and since it wasn't getting deeper I pushed on for Lono Harbor.
Unfortunately, the stops I made to troubleshoot caused me to loose daylight and when I approached Lono Harbor it was DARK. As I mentioned earlier, the channel is narrow, long and unlighted. But my chartplotter was working and I had a powerful handheld spotlight in the cockpit. Between the two of them I was able to line up on the range and make my way in to the harbor.
I must confess I had a degree of trepidation. I could hear, and see, the surf breaking against the breakwater. And the narrow opening into the harbor seemed mighty small as I approached. Steering with one hand, sweeping the spotlight with another, watching the depth sounder and darting forward to glance at the chartplotter was nerve wracking. But finally I was in the harbor, out of the swell and the breakwater behind me. I slowly came to starboard and dropped anchor in the middle, alone again.
The next four hours were spent trying to figure out why there was water in the bilge and getting rid of it.
Reviewing everything I had done over the past few days I realized that the only two things that differed is that my run from Kaunakakai to Lono Harbor had been downwind with following seas, and I had run the generator for two to four hours a day while anchored. I could find absolutely no sign of a leak anywhere, until I turned on the generator and then I found it – water dripping down from the side of the genset.
Oh dear. Well, that was at least a solid clue. I couldn't see exactly where the water was leaking but, it was only coming in when the genset was running. So, I recharged the batteries whilst keeping an eye on the water level in the bilge. Then shut it down and closed the intake seacock for the generator.
In the process of emptying the bilge I discovered that the bilge pump wasn't, in fact, working. So a good part of those four hours was spent checking the bilge hoses to be sure they weren't blocked and installing a spare bilge pump.
By midnight I was exhausted. But I couldn't relax and with the first greying of the eastern sky I was up from my fitful sleep and getting ready to weigh anchor for the channel crossing.
During the night I had noticed an increase in the sound of the surf breaking outside the harbor, as well as an increase in the movement of the boat as swells came in. With the breaking dawn I saw the cause: a large swell from the south had set in during the night and every few minutes sets of 6 foot waves came rushing at the harbor entrance.
Those waves were impressive. They reminded me of the waves I saw crossing the bars at Newport and Coos Bay. But they weren't breaking in the channel. If they had been, I'd have stayed put and waited until the swell subsided. Sometimes that takes a few days, but I'd rather have done that than try to push through breaking surf in that narrow channel!
So, I tried to time it so I could exit between sets. A set of three came in and passed and I gunned the Perkins up to 1800 rpm and pushed for the center of the channel. Again, looking over my shoulder to keep the range marks lined up. But I had to watch the waves too and make sure I took them at the proper angle, all the while keeping an eye on the depth sounder and adjusting the throttle.
It didn't take long for the waves to push me off center, and suddenly I'd gone from 18 feet under the keel to only 7! Quickly I looked back at the range and put the wheel over hard to bring me back to center. It seemed longer than it was, I'm sure, but I was truly grateful to see the numbers on the depth sounder getting larger – 9 feet, 11 feet, 15 feet, 27 feet – until finally I was clear of the reef over half a mile from the harbor entrance. At last, in over 60 feet of water, I turned to 270 degrees and headed back to Maunalua Bay.
Days later, safely in my slip at Ko 'Olina I found the source of the leak. A clamp from the generator sea water pump had rusted through and fallen off allowing sea water to leak into the bilge. To this moment I don't know if that hose was on the intake side of the pump or the output side. But there is now a new all stainless steel clamp on that hose and there is no more leakage. And I'll be keeping an eye on it!
Carl Bostek
Ko 'Olina Marina
Honolulu, Hawaii
October 2007
