Bumblebee Sails to Mexico |
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Bumblebee Sails to Mexico |
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On the sixth day out from Long Beach, California, I finally found it necessary to heave to, as the wind and seas had increased to a point where Bumblebee was being slammed sideways off of huge cresting seas. The noise inside was frightening as the little sloop was bounced around like a cork by the graybeards marching westward. My destination was Honolulu, and I was attempting to reach it in probably the slowest possible manner, by sailing before the trade winds in a 14-foot West Wight Potter.
My reasons for choosing such a tiny vessel were in no way aimed at providing sensational seafaring news for the press, but instead reflected my confidence in tiny cruisers and, in particular, the Potter design. I had earlier cruised offshore in a decked over International 14 and found great personal satisfaction in small boat cruising.
The wind and sea conditions continued to worsen until, with even only my tiny storm sail up, Bumblebee was overpowered. Without warning a shroud broke, sending the mast and rigging crashing down on deck. Suddenly the sunny shores of Hawaii seemed very distant. I managed to recover all of the rigging and spent the morning trying to jury rig a mast to complete the voyage. After repeated attempts to raise the 19-foot spar failed, I resigned myself to wait for calmer weather to do my work.
Down below, I toasted a picture of my wife throwing a snowball that had melted 25 years earlier and awaited a break in the gale.
The weather soon moderated and I was able to shorten the length of the mast with that most valuable rigging tool, the hacksaw.
Thus I was off again, this time with a 13-foot mast supported by a jury-rigged shroud made of 3/8-inch Dacron line. I then set the trysail in place of the main.
I decided to abandon my plan of sailing to Hawaii, as I had no confidence in my newly shortened rig. It would be a hard long beat back to the Southern California coast, so I elected to turn and run down the strong northwesterlies toward Baja California. This was the course that presented the least possible danger to the rigging. Bumblebee and I surfed happily along toward the shores of sunny Mexico.
One evening, just at dusk, I sighted a slight smudge on the horizon to starboard. Consulting my chart I concluded that it was Guadalupe Island. It was dawn when I saw lights at Punta del Norte on Guadalupe. Closing the island took hours because of my slow speed. I sailed alongside the 85-foot Californian out of San Diego, and 20 or more charter fishermen looked Bumblebee over. No one said anything as they were probably too astonished at the sight of such a small vessel. I said, "Good morning," twice, and no one answered. Feeling like a bad traffic accident, I tried to stimulate conversation, "What is this place?" Captain Don Daniel came up, answered that it was Guadalupe Island, and invited me aboard. I paid off Bumblebee on a line and found my balance was almost gone. I ate breakfast and drank lots of coffee.
I called my wife by radio-telephone and told her I was going to Mexico. Captain Daniel loaned me charts and a Coast Pilot. As I left he gave me a case of oranges.
I enjoyed cruising down the leeward side of the island, sightseeing. Much of the trip involved rowing, as there was no wind. It was the first time in two weeks I had seen the sun. Leaving Guadalupe Island, Bumblebee ran south under twin genoas with jury main furled. I decided to look at the Baja California coastline for the first time. This decision almost cost me my boat.
It was quite hazy and the visibility was poor. I closed and found myself deep in a bay. Bumblebee was soon in the breakers with combers ahead and too much wind. I got out and gained a lot of sea room, but it was in this maelstrom that the lower rudder gudgeon was loosened. I found out about it when the boat careened around in the middle of the night. By then the gudgeon was on its way to the bottom.
I jury-rigged an overhand knot in the middle of a 3/8-inch Dacron line, which became the lower gudgeon. The ends of the line ran port and starboard around the transom, up each side of the hull to the jib sheet fairleads and blocks. The jib sheets were secured with the standby jib cleats from then on.
The rope gudgeon would wear out in one to four hours, depending upon the wave action. After making gudgeons for days, I saw Cabo San Lazaro around noon. By 2100 I hove to north of Punta Magdalena, all lined up and waiting for first light to go into the Bay. I made up two new gudgeons as I didn't want a rudder casualty as I entered.
Morning came and there was no port to enter. I sailed around, looking for the coast and hoping the haze would burn off or blow away.
I slept until 1000, came on deck to find no wind with the sun beating mercilessly down. I could see 100 miles of sandy, deserted beach clear to the mountains at the south. Bumblebee was 10 to 15 miles off Boca Flor de Malba. I stripped off my filthy wet clothes, let the sun warm me, and commenced to jury rig as a gentle breeze came up. I set the genoas wing and wing off the double headstays. They led away from the bow, forward instead of aft, with a whisker pole between them. I sheeted them home in the conventional manner. The wind filled these sails and helped keep the bow going in the right direction.
The next morning I piloted by the mountains, started in about noon, and in the evening saw "Paps," the light on Cape Falso. The wind was up and Bumblebee couldn't carry the storm trysail easily. It was pitch dark. I kept taking Paps' position until I was certain we wouldn't run aground, then hove to.
By morning we had drifted south. The wind was worse and the seas were breaking. As I came on deck she took a sea down the hatch which hit the hot lantern and broke the glass. The seas were off the port beam and Bumblebee could only carry the storm trysail. She had so much weather helm I could just hold her, yet the seas had to be navigated.
By 1500 I couldn't hold her any longer. I was running out of steam. Bumblebee had to carry some jib or we were going to Mazatlan. I ran up a piece of storm jib, less than two snaps. She carried it and this eased the weather helm, giving me relief so that I could continue holding course. It was late afternoon when I didn't have to beat anymore. I removed the stop on the storm jib and ran it up. When I made my turn to the East I knew the last battle was won. Bumblebee was running now; close-in we passed the Friars and, laughing, we entered Bahia San Lucas.
This cruise from 2 May lasted 25 days, 8 hours. We sailed 1,300 miles, and the best time logged was over 100 miles in one day. I only consumed 5-1/2 gallons of water, which convinced me, that although I was wet and cold most of the time, I had been carrying too much fresh water. Next time I will be able to carry canned food and stay within Bumblebee's weight carrying limitations. All water was sipped from straws and never poured or evaporated by cooking.
In previous cruises I have learned the folly of having on board a radio, having lost two of them. My Rolex chronometer was extremely accurate for navigation and, being waterproof to 110 fathoms, was certainly more durable than radios. Also, for the wet, one complete change of clothes was ample. Cared for, they drained and dried to a damp. Nothing was lost over the side. Everything had a lanyard or line to prevent this, including myself. Paddles are for ping pong and oars for rowing and steering and can become tillers, whisker poles, booms and other things. Hand pumps are for dribbles in hard-to-get-at places - buckets are for bailing.
Bumblebee will incorporate the new West Wight Potter Mark II's heavier centerboard, new type mainsail, and spade rudder for the next cruise, later this spring.
At sea there is a sense of antiquity that I feel and a tradition within myself that awakes. Where I once steamed with Navy shipmates, I now sail silently, yet never more free. My goal is to go further than before. With the serenity and tranquility I seek the hardship and danger. It is all adventure and my sport. It's what I like to do.
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