Chapter 21: San Diego

Sailing back into San Diego harbor at the completion of our three year voyage around the world.

SThe day was yet in its infancy when we secured Suka to the Police Dock. This certainly was familiar territory; for it was here, three years and nearly two months previously, that we had loosened the brig's warps and set sail upon a voyage that, indeed, had taken us around the world. What a wonderful odyssey it had been. How unflagging had been Jenny, my heart-of-oak companion. And how aptly we had christened Suka, who indeed had sought and embraced those UnKnown Adventures, and had proven herself worthy to every task.

The officials of customs, immigration, and health expeditiously granted us pratique and entry, and the harbor police allocated us temporary berthing at their adjacent docks. And there, in virtually the same place where we had prepared the brig for her voyage, we scrubbed her stem to stern in preparations for a complementary two-week's berthing at the prestigious San Diego Yacht Club.

At the harbor police dock awaiting pratique. Suka is home!

Family and friends.

Epilogue

Suka had been our lives for these past three years, and mine for the last five. We had spent uncountable hours working on her, and she had given much in return. But it was time to move on, and we could no longer afford the time and energy it would have taken to maintain her. So with utmost reluctance, we had to sell her.

And that called for a thorough cleaning and repainting.

Hauled out for hull panting.

Ray's towing Service.

A visitor's boat dog (not ours) in Suka's cockpit.

I wrote the Taiwan company that built Suka (Ta Chiao), asking how much to make a new trail board. They sent a new one for free, and it had Suka's name carved on it! The new trail board was flat, and had to be persuaded into a curve to fit the boat. From this I learned how an object at sea had removed the first one. It was spring loaded.

Suka's new trail board.

Getting Suka back into Bristol fashion.

With Suka sold, we sell off miscellaneous sailing gear at a swap meet.

Jenny and our "new" (10 years old) van.

During the latter part of our voyage back to San Diego, we both found ourselves longing to get back in touch with the land. No longer willing to integrate back into city life, we wanted to go for a summer long hike along the Pacific Crest Trail. However, by the time we managed to sell the ketch, there wasn't enough time left to train and prepare for the hike. So our hike had to wait for the following year, and meanwhile we bought a van and a hang-glider, and went to Utah to spend the summer.

Josh spent a year aboard his Comitan in Cape Town, then sailed singlehanded to Barbados. In the Caribbean he encountered hard times. One dark night while he was in town, thieves boarded his cutter and stripped it of virtually everything removable. Tight finances dictated that Josh return home to Portland, Oregon without his beloved Comitan.

The British sailing couple John and Peggy Flemming lost their Capella only 500 miles from their home in England. It seems that the rudder seized during a storm, and they were unable to affect repairs. They hailed a nearby Spanish fishing vessel; the fishermen came aboard and banged at the shaft, in an attempt to free Capella's rudder. But in the process they shattered the old shaft seal. Water poured in, and despite everyone's best efforts the vessel began foundering. John and Peggy could do little but quickly gather a few belongings into sailbags; and from the deck of the fishing vessel, half an hour after the mishap, they watched their beloved Capella disappear into the sea.

2014-09-30: "long-time cruiser, Jack Curley on the 41' ketch Kulkuri, was preparing to sail towards Japan from Pago Pago. Jim knocked on Jack's hull one Monday, but there was no answer. He figured Jack might have hitched a ride into town with someone, as his dinghy was there. By Wednesday, we felt uneasy. Jim and I went together to check. When still no one answered our knocks, Jim boarded Kulkuri. We weren't prepared mentally or emotionally when Jim discovered that our friend had died a few days earlier. It was shocking. His dinghy was raised. He was reclined on his settee with his computer in front of him, as if he had been watching a movie and had fallen asleep." "Jack was in excellent physical condition. He rode his bike hard from Pago to Tafuna every Sunday to keep his cardiovascular system healthy. He was full of life and energy. Sunday night after having a glass of wine with a fellow cruising friend, Andrew. Jack told Andrew that he was "feeling a little off". Jack rode his bike that Sunday to Tafuna from Pago... a long and arduous ride that he liked to do on Sundays' when there was little traffic on the road." "Jack had a glass of wine with a friend that evening and then watched a movie on his computer. And then it looks like he fell asleep. My feeling is that there was no foul play involved." - Jim & Meri Faulkner, Hotspur - 41' Tartan TOCK

From SUKA's guest book.

In Retrospect

“Our doubts are traitors,
and make us lose the good we oft might win
by fearing to attempt.”

- Shakespeare

In the circumnavigation's aftermath I would like to elucidate the one event that stood vastly above all others as having the most import.

Curiously, perhaps, the journey's most significant occurrence was not the purchase of my beautiful ketch, as imbued with excitement though that transaction was. Nor was it Jenny's and my embarkation, as lifestyle-wrenching and dramatic as that one was. Contrary to what one might guess, it was neither our first dreadful storm at sea, nor the self-confidence the weathering of that storm engendered. By the same token, it was not the conclusion of our first extended passage, when with indescribable feelings of wonder and accomplishment we stepped ashore on our first tropical island. And against further conjecture in the matter, it was not when we sailed back into home port, to conclude the marvelous global journey.

No, the most consequential incident was one that occurred much earlier, during the dreaming stages. The incident I am referring to was, in fact, the moment when I quit flighting through amorphous realms of fantasy, and instead began making real plans. It was when I vanquished the mere dreaming, and set out upon the long and arduous journey of making it all happen.

How true that the most difficult yet momentous aspect of any project is in deciding to begin it. For without the initial determination to attempt the cruise, none of the subsequent developments would have followed, and this dreamer would have remained but a dreamer.

Of course, oceanic voyages are not free of hazards, as the preceding pages readily testify. But anxieties, troubles, and near disasters are not unique to seafaring; both urban and rural living are fraught with them also. And if seafaring is sometimes uncomfortable and occasionally dangerous, then I consider these fair prices to pay in exchange for having lived those few short years in such a heightened style.

To clarify the matter further, it seems to this matelot that the principal maritime assailants are not the vicissitudes of the mighty seas, the hostile storms of unimaginable fury, the world's ubiquitous coral reefs strewn with ill-fated derelicts, or the barbarous natives supposedly lurking behind every tropical bush. Instead, the only genuine insuperable is the dreamer's own apathy. For this can quash the entire adventure before it even begins.

Next Time

March 2014, the date of the publication of this book on my website:

I would like to offer a few comments about the voyage from a hindsight point of view. Things I would have changed, and things I would do differently next time.

GPS

The top item that really stands out was our lack of a GPS. This system did not exist back then, and would have made a huge difference in our safety and piece of mind in those many difficult and sometimes dangerous situations.

Granted, we did buy a Sat-nav unit in Tahiti. This system was the precursor to the GPS, but our particular unit rarely worked; and when it did, it would produce the coordinates only a few times a day, if that. Eight hours between a satellite pass was not uncommon. Still, it was better than nothing. But it failed to work many times when needed the most. For example when we sailed unawares over the Breakwater Reef in Australia.

We began our trip with a sextant. And our celestial navigation skills were THE key to practically the entire voyage. Back then, if you couldn't use a sextant, you couldn't sail around the world.

Now, all that has changed with the advent of GPS. Modern mariners tend to take this marvelous technology for granted. And it could be argued that it has, indeed, diluted the voyaging experience by lessening the risk. Back then, we lived much closer to edge. But still, I would take a GPS unit on our next voyage, and in fact several backups. And one such backup I would seal in a metal box grounded to the boat, to prevent an electrostatic discharge from ruining it.

Smaller Boat

Suka was 41' on deck and was quite a hand-full for just the two of us. Her size meant more work setting sails, especially in storms, and more expense fitting out and repairing things. Next time we would go with a 34 footer or even smaller. Full keel, like last time, but with a better balanced hull.

Generosity

Looking back, I regret not being more generous with the people we met, especially those who were in need. In retrospect, we didn't realize how our modern culture had de-sensitized us to needs of other less-fortunate people. And during our voyage I felt pressed for money, because I had spent most of my funds buying the boat and fitting her out. So I felt like we were sailing a large boat on a shoestring. After the trip we sent clothing to the people of Tonga, and money to Rodriguez Island. But I feel that it wasn't nearly enough.

Photography

Next time I would take more photos, and spend more time working them.

Malaria

Kills a million people a year. Contracted at the Panamanian island of Medidor, this disease refused to leave my body, as I experienced the recurrent attacks of high fever, chills, muscle pain, and short periods of uncontrollable body shakes. I believe it was malaria but it might have been something else. Nevertheless, the relapses occurred about one year apart, and the bad news was that each one was more severe and possibly more life-threatening. And each time, they happened at the worst possible times, when I was exhausted already by some long and trying day during our yearly expeditions. The relapses lasted typically 12 hours, then a year later they would strike again. The doctors could do nothing, and their medicine proved ineffectual.

I tried everything, and finally discovered the Beck Protocol and this took care of it. The man passed away, and his protocol was largely forgotten. but I picked up the ball and worked for two years developing a much improved unit: "The Ray-Way Blood Cleaner."