Some people learn from their own mistakes, some can learn from other's mistakes. I count myself mostly in the first part and occasionally in the second part. I am thinking that SSS folks can count themselves in the second part and therefore can learn from this account of my "LatePAC" voyage.
2024 Late Pac, SV FUGU, Cal 40, Skipper Chris C.
Started: Thursday Sept 19th 7:30 AM at the GG Bridge.
Finished: Sunday Sept 22nd, 7:30 PM at the GG Bridge.
Conditions: (The conditions were what was forecasted, and pretty accurate for the duration)
0-30 miles off the coast: 4-6 knots varied between W and NNW over the course of the sail, patchy fog.
30-90 miles off the coast: 6-20 knots, increasing as one headed west, NW
90+ miles off the coast: 25 knots, gusts to 30, NW
Lessons learned:
- The wood wedges I used where the mast passes through the deck, creaked horribly, replace with Spartight.
- Cal 40 windows (the two larger ones, aft) leak! Consult with Cal 40 owners to find a cure.
- 200 watts of solar can keep up with the power demands of the boat (Type B AIS, instruments, VHF, and heavy duty below deck AP) during the day despite overcast. But the 200 AH AGM needed the motor started every 3 hours to keep up with the AP at night. Will be placing 400 watts of solar and hopefully triple the usable Amp-Hours of the battery bank.
- I placed the borrowed life raft (Thanks Carliane!!) in the footwell of the cockpit because it was too heavy for me to carry up the companionway if I was actually sinking! It was very inconvenient to not be able to place my feet there! Find an alternate solution.
- The Steaming light on the front of the mast must be at the same height as one of the battens at the leach of the #3 jib because it is gone. Again. I’ve going to need to get a different and more survivable steaming light.
- The tiller pilot stopped working hours into the effort, but the newly installed below deck Pelagic worked fabulously!!
- Push this boat, and myself harder. My previous ocean steed was a Wilderness 30, the lessons of sailing that boat in the ocean need to be, at least partly, un-learned.
- I made the right choice in this boat. This was my first trip into the ocean on the Cal40, and this is the easiest boat I’ve experienced in the ocean. To steal a line from Forrest Gump, Cal40’s and the ocean go together like peas and carrots.
I started early Thursday, leaving RYC at 6 am. Around Racoon Straights I found myself being stalked by a Ferry Boat!! WTF?! I need not have been alarmed, it was Bart, owner of the Cal 40 Shaman cheering me onwards!! Hit the GG Bridge a little before slack water and the flood and started counting my miles.
Fortunately, the flood was slow to start because there wasn’t much more that 6 knots of wind at Pt Bonita, it was very slow getting to the Lightship and beyond, no winds above 6 knots and often dropping to 2-3 knots before returning. The wind angles forced me well south of the Farallon's once I got out that far, but by then the winds had begun to exceed 6 knots. By early afternoon I was sailing with 5-6 knots of boat speed and 210-240 deg magnetic, frustration transitioned to enjoyment!
The wind kept building as I got further offshore, 1st reef at 11 PM, 2nd reef at 3 AM, 6 am dropped the jib. At this point I’m 90 miles offshore, part of the qualifier requirements is to be a minimum of 100 nm offshore at some point during the sail. I decided to slog the next 10 miles westward to tick that box, then I could decide how I wanted to finish the rest of the 400 miles. Under double reefed main with the wind at 60 apparent, 25 knots true, gust to 30, I slogged it out. When I hit 100 nm, I spun the boat hit the AP, and went below to change from wet gear, get some hot food and nap if I could. 2-hour later I emerged, warm and well fed. Amazing how attending to the basics of human comfort raised my spirits. I was ready to tackle the rest of the sail! I raised the jib, un-reefed the main, because once I retreated towards the coast the wind started dropping.
On the initial outward run I was testing the weather report, maybe it wasn’t as bad as predicted and I could just run out 200 miles and turn around? 22-25 was predicted, but 18-20 would have been fine and fast!! No such luck. I adjusted my plan, zigzag in the band of wind between 30 and 100 mile off the coast until I’d completed the 400 NM.
Friday evening, I was approaching the Farallon's from the west, and the winds started going light, I couldn’t afford to rack up the miles slowly, so I tacked west enjoyed a full moon and clear sky that night. Uneventful and restful night the boat moving well without the need for reefs or adjustments. Started to enjoy this offshore stuff again!!
Saturday morning, I traced out my path so far to see how much more zigging I needed to do before I zagged back east and home, but it the wind got up too much as I headed west, and I needed to add an extra zig to the course I was fine with that. From 60 mile out to 80 miles out the wind steadily built from 8 knots to the low 20s. I’d calculated that if I got out to 80 miles, I’d have enough distance. The last few miles I was thinking a reef in the main would be good, but I knew as soon as I turned east, I’d need to shake it out.
Manage to hit the 80-mile mark around noon on Saturday, started heading back and not 10 miles later I was trying to keep the boat moving in 4 knots of wind. I spent most of Saturday night becalmed west of the Farallon's, dropping my slatting sails for 6 hours as they were getting the s**t beat out of them!! The boat was quieter, but as wave sets rolled through, there were periods were the waves, and the boat natural rolling frequency created a harmonic that had the boat rolling through 90+ degrees. Every uncomfortable!!!
Sleep? Not possible. Or so it seemed. This was my third night as sea, I was feeling ok, functional, not rested, but ok. Mostly it felt like I hadn’t slept, only on two occasions did I have that sense of waking up despite spending most of the dark hours laying in my bunk at least trying to sleep. As a friend said to me after the trip “If you think you never slept for three nights and were functional for the duration, you must have dreamt it.”
At one point when the boat had stopped rolling for a moment that Saturday night in space of 30 seconds, I heard the deep exhale and intake of a whale. Close. The quick breaths of dolphins, and the more leisurely breathing of seals. Reason enough to have made the effort to be out here.
Dawn on Sunday, 10 miles west of the Farallon's. Wind returned enough to hoist the sails, but not much, hoisted the asymmetrical and with 4 to 6 knots of wind slowly made my way to the GG Bridge, at 7 PM passing by Lime Pt. in fog, a strong ebb and enough traffic to make me grateful that my AIS was transmitting.