Hilton Head Island: sprited and flying

 

Yesterday I carried the painted bowsprit back down to GANNET after spraying three coats of Petit Easypoxy onto it.  I was fortunate with the weather while painting.  We had little wind and no rain except for a brief shower one afternoon which did no harm.  As you would expect paint dries quickly in this heat.

Having taught myself how to sail from books and magazine articles, for many years I called spars extending forward of a vessel’s bow bow spirits until Suzanne, who came from a New Zealand sailing family, corrected me.

I also doubled some of the dock lines, tied down the tiller, tied a line around the furled jib, and set up the running backstays, because we are leaving tomorrow on what has become since Carol’s retirement our usual August escape from the heat.

Tomorrow we fly to Portland, Oregon, where we will rent a car and Carol will drive us slowly down the coast to San Diego.  While I lived in Oakland, California, for a year, I never travelled very far north of the Bay area and so the Oregon and Northern California coast will be new to both of us.

I am looking forward to the trip.  I am not looking forward to the flights.  We are due to land at Portland at what will feel to our east coast bodies 2 A.M.

Hilton Head Island: almost ship wrecked

Captain Cook and I were both almost shipwrecked when our engineless ships were becalmed and swept toward reefs by currents.  Captain Cook had the excuse of sailing an uncharted coast.  I, having let my departure from Papeete, Tahiti, be decided by a dragging anchor had none.

Captain Cook first.

The ENDEAVOUR went onto the Great Barrier Reef on the night of June 11, 1770, about one hundred miles north of present day Cairns, Australia.  She was stuck there for twenty-seven hours, before the Captain and crew managed to get her off and into what is now the Endeavour River twenty-six miles north where the ship was careened and repaired as shown in the above painting by Sydney Parkinson.

Like any good seaman, the captain wanted to get to the open ocean.  He found a pass through the reef near Lizard Island fifty miles farther north.  His great relief at being beyond the coral lasted only two days.

Here are his words from his Journal.

And here are my words from STORM PASSAGE.  The date is December 24, 1974.

I had sailed from San Diego on my 37’ engineless cutter, EGREGIOUS, on November 2 for Cape Horn.  Near the Equator the boat developed rigging failure, so I turned downwind for Papeete, Tahiti, where repairs were made.  On December 24 I was ready to try again.  I cleared with the officials that afternoon.  At that time you anchored in Papeete Harbor with long stern lines ashore.  Returning to EGREGIOUS I took in the stern lines and pulled the boat out over her anchor, but there was no wind until just after sunset when a land breeze coming down from 7,000’ high Mount Orohena inland caused the anchor to drag.  Rather than reset it, I decided to leave.