I was standing on the deck of the Stone Witch, a 70-foot square-rigged topsail schooner out of San Francisco. We were headed south to Central America. It’s like it was yesterday. I remember there were a couple of albatross gliding across the ocean’s wave tops, and I wondered just how they managed to tip the top of the waves, without ever actually touching them
We hoisted anchor in Redondo Beach about three days earlier, and had been underway ever since. In spite of the time we’d been out, we had only managed to cover about 55 miles. The wind gods had decided against us, and we sat rocking back and forth for the first two days, still in sight of the port.
You see, the boat didn’t have an engine. It had four twenty-one foot oars that could be jimmied between the shrouds, and with two people on each one you could actually move the 54-ton vessel.
But not fast. No, not fast at all. So we sat.
Since we had no engine, we were pretty much without power as well. Oh, we had an old car alternator mounted on the stern rail, and it was attached by a long piece of rope to an old outboard propeller.
If we sailed at eight knots, we might be able to get a few amps out of it, which was just about enough to keep the car battery below decks charged with enough power to run the small VHF radio. We used kerosene lamps for light, and even kerosene running lamps.
The wind had finally started blowing about 11:00 am of the third day. Catalina was still in sight off our stern. As Catalina is just 24 miles from my home port, that meant we hadn’t gone all that far.
But that morning was the day that decided the course for the rest of my life.
The first day out of Redondo, sitting becalmed off the Palos Verdes Peninsula, I started to blow chunks as if I were Mount Vesuvius. By dawn the next morning, my stomach thought my throat was a one way street going the wrong way! I had nothing left to throw up but my toes.
Yeah, you get the picture. I was seasick as a dog. This was back in about 1978, and it was my first experience with an overnight sail. The first two days were spent trying to decide if I was more afraid I was going to die, or that I wouldn’t!
By mid-day, day two, I had pretty well come to grips with my seasickness. When I was supposed to go on watch, I’d walk up on deck, stick my finger down my throat and perform Olympian feats of projectile spewing. After that, I’d feel pretty good and could actually sit and take my watch for the next couple hours. I might have had to practice a few more times, but in all, I became accustomed to it.
And then, day three! I had fallen asleep in my bunk after the 2:00 am watch with the porthole open and my face stuck in it to get air. The sun hit me at about 8:00 am and I remembered waking up long enough to roll over and pull the pillow over my face, but I also remembered feeling as if I’d forgotten something. I had. I’d forgotten to get up and try once again to bring my toenails up through the inner route.
When I stumbled out of bed at about 9:30, the boat had stopped the rail to rail rocking we’d experienced for the first two days, and it was fairly steady. I walked out onto the deck and Captain Olson was at the tiller. He smiled and asked how I was. My answer just kind of rolled out. I was fine.
I was! I wasn’t feeling sick anymore!
I can’t tell you how exciting that was. I walked forward and stood there looking south, south to where God only knows what was to happen. But I felt good.
No, I don’t mean I didn’t feel sick. I mean I felt GOOD! All of a sudden I realized that I was on an adventure of a lifetime. A day earlier I was thinking with dread that it might be a whole week before I could get off the cursed boat and return to a normal life aground. Now I felt filled with a sense of adventure. I wanted the moment to go forever; the sound of the sea rushing under the boat; the feel of the wind on my back and the spray of the water all around.
There were no dolphins to welcome me to my new life. They would come later. The skies didn’t open up, and a ray of light didn’t hit me, but nonetheless, in that instant, standing on the foredeck of an old square rigged schooner, my life changed forever.
Thank you God. And thank you Captain Alan Olson, for taking me there.
Now, let’s go Sailing!
