Kandu arrives at Alamitos Bay Yacht Club (photo Dave Terman)
Tying up at Alamitos Bay Yacht Club’s guest dock for a couple nights, a welcome couldn’t have been more endearing. Firstly, ABYC member/ambassador and new friend, Yon, greeted us with an exuberant smile and two cold beers, making available his stand-up paddle board and surfing kayak. Within minutes of shutting down the engine, Bryce was paddling around the marina atop Yon’s paddleboard.
A former work colleague, Dave Terman, having videotaped our arrival, greeted us with gifts of fishing lures and rum. He explained all that was reachable by boat in Alamitos Bay.
I had no concept as to how much Alamitos Bay is a boater’s paradise, more a mini-Venice, Italy than a mini-Naples, the namesake of the island contained within the middle of the bay. Grocery stores and a farmer’s market, marine hardware stores, restaurants, movie theaters and live entertainment are all accessible by dinghy. There is even a canal reportedly teaming with jellyfish. For the active, there’s lots of open water space for small craft to explore: dinghies, outrigger canoes, kayaks, paddle bikes, paddleboards, sailboats, Jet-skis, and recreational fishing boats abound within and just outside the bay’s entrance. Outside the marina and along the beach thrive world-class surfing, sailing, and kite boarding. What an awesome discovery!!! We could hardly sleep.
Sunrise at ABYC’s Guest Dock
The next morning, we woke Bryce and Trent up early to surf Seal Beach. Arriving at the nearly empty parking lot, we learned that the waves were small that day. Bryce felt he’d been lied to. I quickly explained the difference between a great surf spot and a great surf day–no spot, no matter how great, offers 24 hour, 365 day guaranteed excellent surf. Leslie declared that from now on, it would be his responsibility to investigate locations and conditions for great surf: wave height, frequency, and direction; wind speed and direction; tide height, ebb, and flow; and which way the beach faced. “Study these factors and you’ll have a better idea as to whether to wake up or not.” We suggested he keep a log of the factors, comparing it to the discovered reality of the circumstance, to develop his skill in surf conditions forecasting.
While the boys surfed, Leslie and I went to partake in a favorite Sunday morning ritual of mine . . . eggs benedict. A beachside breakfast café in the parking lot where we’d dropped Bryce and Trent off offered eggs Benedict, Caribbean-style with fresh-made Hollandaise—aaaaah . . . .
We returned to the ABYC with our surfers to find that a neighboring boat had sunk! In keeping up with a leaky thru-hole (remember, I replaced all of Kandu’s thru-hulls over the summer), the vessel’s bilge pump drained the boat’s battery before quitting. With nothing to counter the encroaching water, the boat succumbed to the forces of the sea, submerging completely her two large outboard motors. Only her dock lines kept her from resting on the sea floor. With help from a County Fire boat, she was raised, drained, and towed to safety, presumably to a trailer or boatlift.
With little time to spare, we cleaned up Kandu for that afternoon, my brother, Nick and his fiancé Gita planned a gathering of friends and family to bid us farewell. And we would provide the guests a tour of Kandu. Although in the midst of winter, it was a gorgeous summer day. It was encouraging to share with friends and family the result of 2 years hard work and the future plans for the voyage.
ABYC Clubhouse at Sunrise
Making arrangements from Marina Del Rey, it was touch and go getting a slip in Alamitos Bay during the Valentine’s Day weekend, but somehow ABYC, the smaller of the marina’s managed to find us a place at their well maintained guest dock. Meeting Yon was the best part about landing at ABYC. His zest for life and generosity are infectious. The evening of my brother’s gathering, from Pretty Penny’s cockpit, Yon offered us sausages for barbequing and gave me a specialty ring, worn on a finger to pry open bottle caps—pretty cool. Yon even invited us to stay an additional day, stating that their club supports the sailing community and loved that we were leaving to sail around the world. Because of Yon’s hospitality, we spent an additional day at the ABYC guest dock, giving us time to deal with an unexpected repair.
With his infectious smile in the cockpit of “Pretty Penny”, Yon, ABYC’s most generous prince of hospitality, reminds Bryce how good life is.
We could have easily spent a fantastic week or more in Alamitos Bay and been thoroughly enthralled in the experience. But we must shove off if we are to be in French Polynesia by June. I hope for a next time. ‘Til then, here’s to the ABYC, Yon, and the yet-to-be-seen Alamitos Bay jellies.
When we arrived at the Del Rey Yacht Club, we pulled into their guest slip as prescribed, Slip D-289. We quickly settled into what was to be our base for three days, setting up power, draping our cockpit and setting up the cushions, configuring dock lines to keep us still, straightening up our deck, etc. An hour later, the club apologetically informed us that we would have to move a few slips over so that they could accommodate a larger guest boat: better now in the late light of day when we’re all awake than in the dark of night before bed. Trent was especially peeved, even after I explained that we’re guests and that we’re fortunate to have had them so quickly find a solution for us.
Our new spot was within “Battleship Row,” the unofficial term the club members use to describe the dock finger that houses their members’ shiny fleet of large motor yachts: Kandu was dwarfed. Battleship Row enjoys a prominent position directly in front of the clubhouse’s bar and lounge, a frequented part of the club. Of course, with our “Loud Family” Ventura West Marina reputation (read our earlier post, “The Loud Family?”), I carried a stigma that when combined with our cargo-laden decks packed with jugs of fuel and water, exposed dinghy, surfboards, kayaks, and paddles, . . . plus it didn’t help to have our laundry of beach towels, wetsuits, and bathing suits drying on the forward lifelines for all its membership to enjoy. The only things missing were empty beer cans and grandma rockin’ in a chair on the foredeck. So it was no surprise when later the next day the commodore and again, the dock master, explained that we would have to move one more time, but that we could stay there as long as a week (at the customary reciprocal rate of $1/boat foot length per night, after the third night, which is better than what the city charges for its municipal guest dock, $1.50/ft.) I asked the dock master if he could show me where we were to dock so that we could pre-set Kandu’s dock lines. He said, “It’s a walk,” looked at my shoes, “but sure, let’s go.” As we walked to the furthest corner of the club parking lot, and then down a ramp and a walkway that took us even further away from the clubhouse, we turned down the full length of E Dock, as far from shore as possible to its end-tie, Slip E-901. It was immediately apparent that we would be as far away from the clubhouse as any boat could be, while still remaining on club property. This would be the third time we would be docking at the club, equaling the number of days we would be staying at the club. This is where I think I’m over-sensitive.
Kandu in all her cruising glory within “Battleship Row”
From the very first, the club welcomed us without issue, providing us complete access to their wonderful facilities, including high-speed Wi-Fi and recreational equipment for the boys, basketball, Ping-Pong and tetherball, . . . and laundry. They provided us with a parking pass for our car that Uncle Bill drove down for us. As stated, the boats they said were coming, came. And the view from our end tie was spectacular, with the Marina Towers and Ritz-Carleton facing us across the way. The Del Rey Yacht Club staff were courteous and accommodating. So I don’t think cutting us off their WiFi was intentional.
Bryce expresses in image the crew’s feeling of leaving Ventura Harbor after a year and half of delay, Santa Cruz Island in the foreground, the autopilot set for Marina Del Rey.
In 1990, a different crew of mine and I had planned to sail out of Ventura Harbor aboard Getel, my uncle’s 32-foot sailboat, for the Marquesas in French Polynesia, where I was to conduct research for my thesis study. The date we chose was February 9th. Having waved good-bye to family and friends, we motored out of the marina with the intention of “swinging our compass” (calibrating it). The seas proved too rough to perform the operation so we returned to execute the maneuver inside the marina. Once complete, we felt it too late to head back out so we spent one more night in Ventura, aboard Getel. We left pre-dawn, after I made a pay phone call (remember those?) to wish Leslie a happy birthday. With calmer seas, we successfully departed and 25 and half days later, arrived in Nuku Hiva in the Marquesas.
Flash forward 25 years, my mate and I planned to leave Ventura Harbor for Marina Del Rey on the 9th of February, initiating our “slow start” to our world cruise. The morning of our planned departure, with better technology available, we could read that the seas were high, 10-15 feet, and that a Small Craft Advisory was posted, warning smaller boats like ours of the challenging conditions. Taking advantage of the forecast, seeing a window of benign weather for the next day, we postponed our departure one day, leaving again on Leslie’s birthday.
My cousin-in-law, Scott Landry, not one for coincidences, believes we contrived this circumstance in order to create an interesting blog post. He would not be convinced otherwise. That’s one of the take-aways I find so interesting about the cruising lifestyle: it provides an abundance of unbelievable stories, events that are difficult for non-cruising families to fathom. Delaying our trip the one day, having just delayed it two days because of a forecasted rainstorm (which came as predicted), brought great disappointment to the crew. Bryce and Trent moaned when they heard the news. Leslie was incredulous when before dawn I told her we’re not leaving. I had to prove my case, offering NOAA weather forecasts, real-time weather buoy data, and the red-lettered small craft advisory atop the NOAA Marine Weather Forecast page. Then there were the sneers from yacht club members who felt that if we couldn’t handle uncomfortable conditions for a brief, 10-hour trip to Los Angeles, how could we expect to handle the rigors of the open sea, across much longer passages? There was significant peer pressure to leave that drizzly morning, with the sound of waves breaking over the detached breakwater, the barrier of stout guano-covered boulders that protects Ventura Harbor’s entrance. But I held my guns, which leads me to the other take-away I get from the blue-water cruising lifestyle: philosophical perspective development.
This past year, one lesson keeps popping up time and time again: whether to live a life of avoidance or a life of purpose. A cruising sailor can plan routes to avoid hurricanes, or he/she can plan to arrive during the region’s prime weather windows. It’s a subtle but significantly different approach. The first means a sailor is willing to skirt the bounds of the worst weather, knowing they can survive what’s in between. The second means a sailor is aimed at enjoying the experience, knowing full well that difficult, unforeseen circumstances can occur. The difference is that the former, in avoiding disaster, is willing to survive the experience of cruising, whereas the later, seeks benignity, accepting the unforeseen hardships that inevitably arise with any venture. Sailors know that even though regions close to a hurricane belt may not experience the full force of 70+ mph winds with enormous surge and seas, they will experience stormy weather with winds of 50 mph, heavy rains, and thunderstorms (lightning): an unpleasant experience at best. I can’t afford that. If I want to sail around the world, I have to manage two things: 1) our costs; we spent well over our preparation budget, pulling from our cruising kitty, potentially shortening our trip, and 2) our enjoyment; if Leslie, Bryce, and Trent aren’t having great experiences, they’re not going to want to continue. So, if I want to sail around the world with my family, I must find inexpensive ways to create positive experiences. One simple principle is to allow weather to dictate your schedule. It is often said among cruising sailors that the single most dangerous threat to the wellbeing of a vessel and her crew is a schedule. Keeping a schedule, trying to depart from or arrive at a particular location at a specific time is what gets most cruisers into trouble.
On the first day of our voyage, I didn’t want to knowingly create an uncomfortable experience for my novice crew, sailing against a small craft warning. Let the negative come unforeseeably. I choose instead to take the peer pressure and depart under a favorable weather forecast. I’m glad I did. Our first of hopefully many more sojourns to come was a benign one. Leslie awoke the next morning, happy and excited for the cruising life we’ve begun—my birthday present to her, but even more so, to myself. I can’t control the weather, I can control when we leave. When possible, I prefer leaving within a good weather forecast window to a questionable one, choosing thriving o’er surviving.
Our first stop, the Del Rey Yacht Club Guest Dock. Note how Kandu is tucked between DRYC mega-yachts and the Ritz-Carlton to the background on the right. This isn’t Ventura any more.
So, if postponing departure for but one more embarrassing day makes for not only a ‘thriving’ experience, but also an historic coincidence, then so much the richer the event, so much the sweeter the story, so much more important it is to follow one’s truer purpose.
Now we’re ready to leave. It’s a little like having a baby; the mother is uncomfortable enough that she forgets to be afraid to go through with the birth, she just wants the baby out. In a similar fashion, I am no longer worried about missing my family and friends, not being quite enough prepared, or feeling trepidation for the unknowable future at sea. I’m psychologically ready to leave behind life as I’ve known it and face what is ahead just to get going on this long-awaited adventure.
Lately, in the dark early evenings walking down the dock to our boat, I’ve been looking up at the sky to see the constellation Orion clear as a bell shining down on me. Growing up, I remember only searching for the Big Dipper and Little Dipper, constellations of Earth’s northern hemisphere. But now I only have eyes for Orion, the warrior hunter constellation located on the celestial equator – thus visible throughout both hemispheres. Somehow he feels like a familiar friend that, during our travels, will become much more close. I wonder which other constellations I will stare at during night watches, what friends await me in the southern hemisphere. I have a fantastic app on my mobile phone that shows the constellations from every angle. I’m looking forward to studying them on calm nights. Maybe I should download information about them now while I still have access to the Internet.
I’m also looking forward to researching about the countries and sights we will soon be exploring…learning opportunities for the boys, as well as for Eric and me. I’m looking forward to learning and practicing more Spanish. I’m looking forward to sharing my love for language with Bryce and Trent, especially French. I’m looking forward to practicing my sailing skills, building upon the skills that I learned through last racing season’s Wet Wednesdays. I’m looking forward to living the dream that we have talked about and planned for during these last 25 years. It was 25 years ago this February 10th when Eric departed Ventura for the Marquesas Islands with brothers Nick, Curtis and Uncle Bill – 6 months after that when I joined the crew in Hawaii. Somehow this last year’s ups and downs led us here to this momentous turning point – departing again 25 years later – a year after we moved on the boat.
I’m looking forward to reading great literature, to treasure hunts, to meeting new people, to hiking, to fishing, and actually sailing too. I’m looking forward to living with even less, as crazy as that sounds.
Kandu and sunrise at Ventura Yacht Club
So in a few days, after the rain passes, instead of severing the umbilical chord, we’re casting off our Ventura dock-lines…like true Vagabonds, carrying everything we could imaginably need…including 2 kitchen sinks!
A couple weeks ago a photographer named Marc Brown came over to talk about my dad’s cameras and recording equipment. He got me really exited about GoPro cameras. The difference between other video cameras and GoPro cameras is that GoPros can go in the water. They’re small and can attach to everything with a mount. After Mr. Brown left, I thought that we could use my dad’s GoPro 3+ and GoPro 2, but my dad didn’t want us to use his GoPro 3+ because he was afraid we might damage it or lose it. So my brother Bryce and I had to share the GoPro 2. I was really mad when he said that, so I decided to buy my own GoPro. My dad did research on GoPros and showed me GoPros I could buy for a price of $200 or less. There was the GoPro Hero for $130 and GoPro 3 white for $200. I wanted to get the $200 one because it’s better than the $130 one. The white is better because it makes it so you can see what the GoPro sees. At this point I’m keeping it a secret from my brother, Bryce, because he would want to get the same thing as me, or better. A couple days later my dad and I were going to go to Cosco to buy my GoPro. When my dad said he would make a deal with me. He said if I give him my $200 he would give me the GoPro 3+ black that he already had. The GoPro3+ black is better than GoPro 3 white. I wasn’t sure if I should accept the deal and, my dad said I didn’t have to take the deal. My dad offered the deal because mom wouldn’t let him buy the GoPro 4 black because it costs $500. After that we went to Costco and the only GoPro there was the GoPro 3+ black and Hero. They cost $350 and $130. Dad said the GoPro 3+ is basically the same as GoPro 4, not the black. But the GoPro 4 can take videos in the dark and faster 4k frame rates. We returned home empty handed. When I went to bed I told dad that I would take his deal. The next day we left Ventura to drive up to Northern California to see Nani and Papa, my grandparents. When we were half way there, I told my brother the deal I had made with dad. He was mad because if he bought a new GoPro, I would still have the better one.
After spending 3 great days at Nani and Papa’s house in Oakland, we went to the Lima’s ranch in Watsonville. Philip, a professional quad-copter video guy that my dad knows, was there to show us how to use our quad-copter drone, the Phantom 1. He put his GoPro on the drone. After a couple hours of flying lessons, Bryce and I started skateboarding down the hill of their driveway. I went to get my GoPro 3+Black, and that was the first time I used my GoPro.
When I got home I really wanted to go to my friend Charlie’s house at Faria Beach. I really was exited to see what kind of GoPro he had. Guess what? I had a better one than him. He had the GoPro Hero only. A couple days later, Charlie and I went into the water with our GoPros and were videotaping all the nice wave barrels at his house. After a little while Charlie went back to his house but I waited for the sunset. A couple minutes later, I was walking back to his house on the beach when the sunset happened. It was beautiful. I took a couple pictures of the sunset and went back to his house.
The next day, Bryce and I were so pumped up with our GoPros we wanted dad to install a plastic mount on our surfboards so we could take really good videos with our GoPros while surfing. One day my dad arrived with a whole bunch of additional equipment for our GoPros. I asked him if I could buy some GoPro accessories. Dad bought me a GoPro storage box so he could have his box back. I said, cool dad, thanks for the box”. The next day he was working on the computer, and he said” Trent do you want to order anything? Bryce asked, “Hey, do I get to order items too?” Dad said, ”Yes”. We got a whole bunch of equipment like Bryce got a bobber, a box Dad’s original GoPro HD (he has the first GoPro too, a standard def one.), and plastic latches. I got aluminum latches, a chest mount, and a helmet.
The worst thing ever happened. I was so excited to try out my new stuff, that when I switched my floaty-back with a regular back cover, I didn’t see that it was a back with holes. I didn’t even know they made them that way. When I took it surfing, I checked it and couldn’t get it to work. When I brought it back to the house, it was full of water. My mom washed it off with freshwater and alcohol, like my dad told her to do. He wasn’t there. He was working on the boat. My dad said I had to wait two days to let it dry. I waited. Two days are long. When I turned it on, it didn’t work. I learned on a YouTube video how to test the batteries with a meter my dad has. Only one battery was charged. The camera came on, but it said, “No SD,” which means it wasn’t seeing the SD card. My dad told me to check the SD card in our computer. It worked, so that meant the GoPro was broken. I was very sad. My dad told me to find a video that shows us how to open it up, and that he’d try to fix it. So I did, but we didn’t have screwdrivers small enough so my dad said, “Get in the car,” and we went to Fry’s. I picked out the mini screwdrivers and we went back to the boat to try and fix the GoPro that night. When my dad opened the back, he showed me the salt that the ocean water made. He said mom didn’t rinse it enough, but now we know how much we have to rinse electronics if they get dunked in saltwater. Dad had a spray called Corrosion X. It’s supposed to eat rust and make electronic stuff work again. The Army uses it. So he put some on a toothbrush and cleaned all the salty parts. It looked new again. We got to see inside the camera. Dad showed me the imager and said nothing can touch it, no dirt, dust, fingerprints, or spray. After three times of taking it apart and cleaning it, we still couldn’t get the SD card reader to work. Everything else worked, but the SD card reader. It was late, so I went to bed. Dad said he would try one last thing, to get the card reader off so he could clean it better. I prayed that he would fix it. I spent all my money on it and I couldn’t buy another one for a long time because we’re leaving the country really soon. The next morning, I asked dad if he fixed it. When he said “No,” I cried. I really loved my GoPro. Now I’ll have to share with Bryce dad’s old GoPro.
Breakfasting at the Ventura Yacht Club the weekend following New Year’s, Trent and Bryce met the Harris brothers, Ryan and Wesley, twins that sailed several years with their parents aboard their catamaran, Gone Native. Meeting young guys who did what they are about to do gave them an opportunity to hear about experiences they could look forward to. Here’s what Bryce and Trent wrote about their experience, meeting Ryan and Wesley Harris:
Ryan and Wesley Harris (photo Dina Pielaet)
Harris Brothers
This past Sunday, January 4th, we happened to meet a family who had a similar experience of what we were about to partake. In the Harris family were two nineteen year-old young men named Wesley and Ryan. My brother and I both had a conversation about their travels, thoughts, and experiences!
The most exciting for me were the surfing stories. On their trip, they started to learn how to surf. Their first day surfing was rough. In the beginning, the waves were moderate size, about 3 ft. Then later the waves picked up to about 10 ft and barreling. The father got a huge chunk of skin cut clean-off by the surfboard fine. He tried putting an antidote on (called second skin). Almost an hour later, he got back in the water and the second skin immediately came off and it started to bleed again. They were worried about attracting sharks.
The second experience that caught my attention was lobster diving. To pick-up a lobster, they were taught to push on the lobster’s back and then pick it up. Wesley and Ryan said that the first few times they tried lobster diving, it was freaky because they would touch the lobster and it would move crazily and it scared them back to the surface. But now after years of practice catching lobsters bare-handed, they love catching lobsters as big as 17” long as if it were no big deal.
Another story was their journey home. They visited schools, gave speeches and shared power-point presentations of what they did during their travels. This sounded really fun to talk in front of students about journeys and places they went to and what they were like
Overall, talking to these young men, boosted my positive energy toward my family’s trip around the world. Also, it was a small heads-up of what could happen during our travels. I thought it was really cool and an extremely interesting and beneficial conversation with the Harris Brothers!
Bryce Rigney
Talking to the Sailor Boys
Last Sunday I met Wesley and Ryan Harris, nineteen-year-old sailors who sailed with their mom and dad. They sailed around the Mediterranean Sea and across the Atlantic Ocean for a total of about five years between the ages of 9 and 14. I asked them what was the longest time they had been at sea without seeing land. They said it took 24 days to cross the Atlantic Ocean. During that crossing one morning while they were sleeping, a huge wave came. They thought it was just another wave, but no, it was a 30-foot wave. This wave crashed over the boat and woke them up. If the catamaran had flipped over they might have died.
During our conversation, Wesley and Ryan also talked about diving and catching lobster. When they were close to land they would free dive 10 feet and catch lobsters freehanded. They said all you have to do is push down on the lobster, then pick it up. They said they did it a lot because they love to eat lobster. They also mentioned that every day they would write in their journal. Now five years later, they sometimes read through their journal entries, which helps them remember everything they did during those five years. The last thing that impressed me about what they said was that when you get back to school after your trip, everybody will think you’re really cool to have sailed around the world. Of course, I haven’t experienced that yet.
We just got news that our one-year extended-stay visa for French Polynesia was approved. And a French Polynesian yacht agent, a niece of a friend, will offer her services gratis to arrange in Papeete our immigration and customs affairs. Happy Birthday to me.
We initiated the process to get a 90-day, three-island cruising permit. We don’t plan to be in the Galapagos much longer than 20 days, which, were we to stay on only one island, entry fees would cost about $1350. But Leslie feels that since we’re there, and that it’s not likely we’d get another chance, might as well try to see more of the islands and make the experience as extraordinary as we can. All in, permits and fees for all three islands will probably come in south of $2000. This will perhaps be the most expensive stop in our multi-year journey. Because of the high cost, most cruisers skip it, so Happy Birthday to me.
After some technical reading and some help from Sailmail tech support via email, I figured out how to get our HAM/SSB radio working well. We can now drive the radio remotely through an email/weather fax application. Leslie and I also attended a webinar on marine SSB radios, giving an overview of the equipment and how to take full benefit of having a radio on board. Joseph from Horizon helped me navigate the software on our laptop to drive the radio. He also showed how to use a couple other handy navigational applications, extremely helpful. The radio, Pactor modem, USB GPS, and laptop are all working well together. I was so happy about it that I couldn’t sleep. Happy Birthday to me.
Leslie received all the medical supplies from our list. Germs don’t stand a chance on our boat. Happy Birthday to me.
After a couple of weeks of price adjustments, Leslie sold our 13-year old Toyota minivan. We did a lot of living through that van. Sad and glad to see it go. Now, only the Prius remains. Happy Birthday to me.
Talking with Dr. Dave and the Maritime Institute of San Diego, I’m thinking of taking the two weeks and spending the $1000-$1200 to get my Federal captain’s license before we leave for Mexico next month. Online courses, in-person teaching support, a physical, drug test, background check, a couple of photos, an exam and an application, and I’d have it. We’ll see, but Happy Birthday to me anyway.
Dan and Lydia on Amadora invited us over for a wonderful dinner, while offering us advice on places to moor Kandu and how to get around Puerto Vallarta, a place with which they are very familiar. They even told us which busses, shuttles, and taxis to take to get to Costco and Walmart, our last stops for provisioning before sailing to the Galapagos. Happy Birthday to me.
After having lived aboard Kandu for exactly one year, we leave Ventura West Marina for the Ventura Yacht Club tomorrow. Although we’re not leaving Ventura Harbor for a few days, psychologically it’s feeling like the preparation phase is transitioning into the departure. Of course, our departure is the grandest birthday gift of all (apart from a healthy and happy family of course). Our stay at VWM has been wonderful. The office found us a slip closer to like-minded live-aboards, allowing us to stay as long as we needed. VWM is a clean and well-run facility. If you’re looking for a place to live aboard your boat in Ventura Harbor, we highly recommend you consider it. Best of all, you’ll meet the families, couples, and persons who we’ll forever carry in our hearts, people who have been emotionally and physically constructive in the preparation of our departure. Their advice and encouragement helped our family through many challenges. We leave, sad to know it will be a while, if ever, before we meet them again; a phenomenon that will play out for the next several years as we make and leave friends all around the world. Happy Birthday to them all . . . .
Last Thursday night having dinner at my cousin Pascale’s place, her husband Scott, an avid reader of the blog, bemoaned the recent lack of posts. “Black out,” he called it. “Don’t leave me hanging,” he said, wanting to know what’s happened with the radio, the doctors, the waterline, etc. Getting so close to departure, tasks are compressing. Arguably this post would be better broken into 10 separate posts so as not to overwhelm the time-constrained reader. Honestly, to delay this entry would be to compound the issue. I feel compelled to share these experiences as they happen, or risk that they’ll be buried by incoming experiences. It gives a sense of the density of our days as we prepare for departure. So, for the time-pressed, I recommend this post be read in sections, revisited later as time becomes available. Here’s a not-so-brief update:
Upon meeting the sailing doctors and their sons at the yacht club that fortuitous Sunday breakfast, the doctors offered their expertise, volunteering to go through our medical books, our medical supplies, and to teach us how to suture. This eclectic family is down-to-earth and generous with their time, knowledge, and resources. Understanding our pending departure schedule, they invited us to their home in the Ventura Keys that following Tuesday evening. With their catamaran “Gone Native” docked outside their beautiful three-story home, Ryan and Wesley set Bryce and Trent up in the entertainment area to watch a movie, while Leslie and I got a higher level crash course in blue-water cruising first-aid.
Drs. Dave and Desi helping Leslie and Eric (photo Dina Pielaet)
After sorting through our ship’s library of medical books, describing the value they’d place on each, we were able to eliminate the largest, the Physician’s Desk Reference. Other, smaller books in our library have similar information and are more pertinent to our circumstances of being in foreign ports. Drs. Dave and Desiree “Desi” then looked at our medical kit. Pleased with its size and organization, they immediately & generously augmented it with more, less readily available supplies.
Dr. Desi instructs suturing with Eric (photo Dina Pielaet)
Then we were off to suturing school (their kitchen counter and dining room table). We learned on a persimmon and later on a tangerine how to inject Lidocaine into a laceration, numbing deeper and deeper the edges before sewing their skins back together, practicing how to keep and guard a sterile environment (breathing while working is okay, but talking introduces spittle).
Earlier that day, our media partners, Dina and Marc, and I spent the morning laying out our goals for the website, social media channels, and the video channel. We also discussed getting our circumstance into the hands of educators to use as a learning tool. That’s been more difficult than expected. We’re all looking forward to the new website and logo that Dina’s developing. They captured in photos and on video the medical discussion mentioned above.
Throughout the week, I worked on the SSB radio install. Turning it on, I found significant interference and troubleshot it. To clean up and dress the wires, I tied the antenna wire between the antenna tuner and the antenna to other wires along the way. Not good. This turns the neighboring wire into an antenna as well, so I separated it.
Rewiring SSB radio antenna wire.
That helped. We motored in the marina channel, away from the field of masts that normally surround Kandu, and that helped even more to reduce the radio frequency interference (RFI, aka, static). I can make out Hawaii’s time signal well enough for now, but I want to fix this noise thing before we leave. There’s still some RFI, possibly due to dirty power. Instead of the circuit breaker panel, I need to connect the radio’s power wire directly to the battery, with a fuse in between.
Friday, prior to the evening’s meal, I performed my PowerPoint presentation before the Ventura Yacht Club members. The upstairs dinning area was packed, nearly standing room only. My ego tells me it was because they were interested in my awesome program, but it was most likely the evening’s menu and bar drink specials that brought them in. Uncle Bill and Auntie Annie showed up with several friends. The doctor family surprisingly showed up, having delayed their ski trip for better snow. I spoke for about 45 minutes, describing what we did to prepare Kandu for our trip: water, fuel, power, communications, and safety. It was well received. My favorite comment from club members was, “I didn’t know you were so funny.” I started off the presentation with, “We have already bought and installed the solutions I’m presenting to you tonight. There are many ways to solve these problems as most of you can contest. I’m only describing what choices we made. We’re about to leave, so if you have a better idea, keep it to yourself or cough up the money to pay for it.” The comment got a good laugh. After the presentation, a couple people suggested low-tech, affordable solutions for stopping smaller water intrusions: expanding foam insulation in a spray can and the wax used in a toilet ring. So I bought and stowed the two items the next day.
The doctors reminded us to provide them with a list of medical supplies on the boat, and those we thought we needed. We worked on putting the list together.
It rained Friday, Saturday, and cleared late Sunday morning as predicted. That Sunday afternoon, the twins, Ryan and Wesley offered Gone Native as a chase boat to take Dina and Marc on a photo and video shoot outside Ventura Harbor.
Marc Brown shooting Kandu (photo Dina Pielaet)Ryan Harris aboard Gone Native outside Ventura Harbor (photo Dina Pielaet)Wesley Harris helms Gone Wild during photoshoot (photo Dina Pielaet)
The dark grey clouds of the parting rainstorm made for a dramatic backdrop. The calm silvery seas made the catamaran a steady platform. We got some great shots of the four of us sailing Kandu.
Kandu on the silvery water off Ventura Harbor (photo Dina Pielaet)
Once the radio issue was well enough resolved, on Wednesday, Bryce’s former 7th grade science teacher came to the boat to check out our skin diving and spearfishing equipment, and to give us some recommendations and pointers (pardon the pun) on how to free dive safely and longer on one breath. He got us all excited to condition our lungs to be able to hold our breath longer, swimming to depths greater than 35 feet.
Thursday morning, we packed up the Toyota Prius and drove up to Northern California to celebrate Leslie’s aunt’s 75th birthday with Leslie’s family and family friends. On the way up, we worked on the medical list, Leslie typing away on her laptop, accessing the internet via our phone’s data “hotspot.” Around 4 p.m., we stopped off in Santa Cruz to see Philip Lima at his media studio, a young family friend who happens to be a video drone specialist. We left him with our video drone and some parts he recommended to upgrade it. He kindly offered to install the upgrades before giving us a lesson on how to fly it on Sunday. Philip’s younger brother, Brandon was there too. He said he’d try to have his girlfriend, a training physician assistant, meet us on Sunday as well, to instruct us on how to administer an IV.
We arrived in Oakland late that Thursday evening. That weekend was Martin Luther King’s Birthday, a Federal holiday providing Monday off for schools, government offices, and some businesses. During the drive up, we heard on the car radio that Oakland Police would be on high alert; all police officers were to be on duty, no time off granted. This was due to protests staged weeks earlier surrounding the acquittal of another light-skinned American police officer who killed another young unarmed dark-skinned American man. The acquittal upset some East Bay Area residents enough to inspire them to shut down the busy freeway that passes through Oakland, a dangerous action for the protesters and an economically injurious action against the city. Our family was not in Oakland for the actual MLK Monday holiday, but Friday and Saturday, we visited without incident many areas throughout Oakland. When hearing of turmoil in the foreign countries we’re visiting, it will likely be similar; the real danger, more isolated than the reported threat. Not that we’re planning to visit any “hot” spots any time soon, if ever.
Friday, after touring Jack London Square, posing with his statue and the micro cabin he inhabited during his gold rush days in the Yukon, we lunched in Oakland’s Chinatown where they served hand-made noodles and delicious dumplings. I visited alone my aunt Marge, turning 86 soon. I missed her over Christmas. She’s in excellent health. I don’t know how long before we return and what her circumstances might be then, so I wanted to spend some time reminiscing about our family, how much she has meant to me, and telling her more about our plans. Her son was also very supportive of our adventure. I couldn’t help but think this may be the last time we see each other, but then again, her mother/my grandmother lived to 103!
Jack London stops to pose with kindred spirit, Eric RigneyTrent and Bryce note that Jack London lived by himself in a space equivalently shared by four of us!
Saturday, after spending time in the morning with previous LA neighbors visiting around Lake Merit, Leslie’s parents threw a great dinner party for Aunt Meg’s birthday. We got to see the family one more time before shoving off. “I thought you’d be long gone by now,” was the most common comment. “We did too,” was the start of our response, followed by our explanation of the delay. Back when I worked at Sony, the professional electronics sales guys joked that Sony was an acronym for “Soon, Only Not Yet,” describing the company’s practice of delaying release of new products, presumably until they met the strict quality controls of the engineers. News of a poorly operating device would be more costly than a delay in its release.
Sunday morning, we said our good-byes to Leslie’s parents, with a promise to meet up in San Diego. Later that morning, we met up as planned at Brandon and Philip’s parent’s ranch house with its spectacular 360o view of Watsonville valleys.
Morning view from S&P Ranch in Watsonville, CA
Brandon’s girlfriend, Marisela had prepared a makeshift IV school. After twice watching on the big screen television a YouTube video demonstrating the procedure, we practiced on a rolled up towel that Marisela had prepared. Then it came time for the real thing. With Marisela over my shoulder, I prepared everything for a sterile IV insertion into Leslie’s arm. Not feeling confident in finding Leslie’s vein in her inside elbow joint, I asked if I could go where I could plainly see them, on her hand. Marisela said that the hand is the most painful area to try, but Leslie said go for it. After two failed attempts, no longer wishing to subject Leslie to further pain, I set up the tourniquet for the mid arm. I got the vein, but pulling the needle out while leaving the catheter in, I hadn’t applied enough pressure on the vein above the catheter to prevent Leslie’s dark red blood from oozing out of her arm. Bryce, videoing the procedure, looked uneasy. With encouragement from Marisela, I applied more pressure, finished the set up, and wiped up the blood. After a minute of thumbs-up pictures, we worked on removing the IV.
On the third attempt, Eric successfully inserts IV into Leslie (photo Paulette Lima)
Then it was Leslie’s turn to practice on me. My veins are apparent, so Leslie went straight for the most prominent one on my forearm. Just before insertion, in walked our doctor friend, Dr. Dave Harris, and his son, Ryan; they had just driven up from Ventura to participate in our drone flying lesson. With a full audience, Leslie expertly inserted the needle, applied pressure to the catheter, and removed the needle, holding the catheter in place in my vein. Not a drop of blood escaped. Properly taped up, we took our pictures, removed the IV, and thanked Marisela profusely.
Leslie inserts into Eric an IV like a pro (photo Paulette Lima)
As Marisela rushed off to bake a cake for her sister’s birthday, we headed outside to learn the basics of drone flying from Philip. He brought two of his own copters plus the one he rebuilt with upgrades for us. Carefully, he provided detailed instruction on how to prepare for flight, how he configured our radio controller, and how the different controls work. He explained the upgraded “telemetric” data visible in the drone’s camera monitor, which let’s us know what’s happening with the drone’s systems (its location, altitude, our location, power, etc.).
Brandon Lima watches as the Rigneys and the Harrises get quadcopter flying lesson from brother, Philip Lima (photo Paulette Lima)
He demonstrated the most basic flight skills: take off, forward, backward, side-to-side, and landing. He then showed us more advanced moves, counseling that we should first fly the craft 10 times without the camera in a safe open area with soft landing terrain, until we could fly it comfortably in a figure eight pattern. Once achieved, then fly 10 times with the camera, incorporating the figure eight, before setting off to fly in less open areas. After we each took a turn flying our drone, Philip brought out his new “toy,” DJI’s new quadcopter, Inspire. So modern and “James Bond” looking, auto retracting landing gear and all. He flew it far away into the valley, beyond sight, and back, effortlessly capturing great 4k images along the way. Philip made phenomenal image capturing look easy. “You’ve just got to do it a lot,” he advised. Before we left the Lima family, I asked if we could see some of Philip’s aerial videography to give us all a frame of reference as to what “good” looks like: Santa Cruz coastline, Capitola pier and riverside, Big Sur coastline and bridge, and both ski-chair and wakeboard professionals pulled behind a ski boat on a lake. We all left in awe, inspired to capture our own spectacular imagery. Our cars packed, we said our thank you’s and farewell’s, and drove back the 5 hours to Ventura. In terms of learning valuable skills rarely attained by average cruisers, Sunday ranks as one of the most amazing days ever. Leslie and I love learning this stuff, one of the favorite aspects of the trip.
On the way back to Ventura, we further refined our medical list, a consolidation of recommended items from two different marine medical how-to books, and of supplies already accumulated. From the car, we were able to email it to our doctor friends. Later that week, Leslie honed the list with Dr. Desi, who wrote us the prescriptions necessary to fulfill the list. Off to Costco Leslie went. A day or two later, Dr. Dave and Dr. Desi came by Kandu to instruct us on proper use of the more temperamental of the medications–another great learning session. Epinephrine, the medication used to abate anaphylactic shock, a dramatic and possibly deadly allergic reaction to things like peanuts, bee stings, shellfish, and whatever else, is one that’s dose must be carefully considered. Too much epinephrine (adrenaline) can over-stress a person’s heart and arteries with potentially lethal consequences. “Do no harm,” cautioned Dr. Desi.
On Monday, we arranged the equipment acquired over the weekend, and ordered from Amazon more parts and accessories for our GoPro cameras. Trent, Bryce, and I finished consolidating and environmentally protecting (earthquake, flood) all of our personal items into the one storage unit where our affects now reside. Over the past months, we reduced our storage needs from four units to one. To be clear, we haven’t whittled our possessions down to monk-like austerity. With what we’ve retained, we could furnish a small home with little missing. Still, this day’s culmination represented a significant milestone, bringing great relief. Leslie reposted our ads to sell our minivan, lowering the price.
Tuesday, I focused on the ground tackle (anchors, chain, and ropes) ordering new chain and nylon rode (anchor rope) for our secondary bow anchor and our stern anchor. Wednesday, we brought from the secondary storage unit all the Kandu stuff we were still storing, loading up the cockpit. Thursday and Friday were spent finding places to stow all that stuff.
Kandu’s cockpit filled with stuff to stow.
Waterline update: I learned yesterday that every inch of a Tayana 42’s (Kandu’s make and model) waterline depth represents 1474 lbs of added weight. Since loading up, Kandu’s waterline has risen about 3.5 inches, the equivalent of 5200 lbs. That’s 1500 lbs. more than the Toyota Sienna we’re trying to sell! The good news is we’ve balanced our load so that our waterline is level, and we have 1.5-2.0 inches to spare, a decent margin for keeping most of the barnacles off. The soon-to-arrive anchor chain and rode will level us off just fine, with adequate waterline to spare—another great stress reliever.
Today, Joseph Paravia from Horizon, who with his wife, Marcy recently completed a 1.5 global circumnavigation and just happens to be four boats down from our slip, showed me how to send and receive email over radio, and how to download weather faxes and GRIB files as well. In the process I refined what needed to be done to get our SSB/HF radio capable of supporting these important functions. By the end of the day, I had a ‘simple’ list: move the radio’s power wire to a cleaner source, configure the laptop’s COM ports (learning curve) so I can remotely control the radio, and get the radio to see the GPS (a setting in the GPS that Gary from Dockside Radio told me about solved this problem). I’m getting close to having that radio work for us.
Leslie lowered the price on the van even further, almost half of our first sale price. As they say, “you can price to keep, or price to sell.” Over the past three days, I have been getting the boys up at 6 am to surf at dawn. They love it. Afterwards, they helps us get things done, or do their school work.
Ventura Marina dawns
So tomorrow, I’ll work on the radio list. And if I have time, I’ll install the anchor chain and rode. I then need to sort through our navigational paper charts, the last of the big tasks that must be performed in Ventura.
We’re knocking off tasks, getting close to departure, hoping to leave Ventura this coming weekend (my 55th birthday is Friday), yet anything can happen to delay it, still probably only for a few days to at most a week. Oddly, I’m not excited yet. I won’t allow myself the pleasure until the big things are done, vegetables before dessert. When that day comes, I have a cigar that my friend, Juan Cruz offered me from his country of origin, Dominican Republic. I rarely smoke, but somehow, seeing all those movies and television shows growing up, smoking that cigar seems an appropriate way to punctuate one of the most significant days of my life. The brandy won’t be so bad either. Cheers (soon, only not yet) . . . .
Yesterday, Tuesday, December 16 2014, was my last day of school for a very long time. It was really emotional for my brother, Trent and me. We both attended Cabrillo Middle School in Ventura, California. My main feeling leaving Cabrillo was about not being able to hang out with the kids I enjoy hanging out with at school and knowing that there was a good chance I might not see them ever again. The other predominant concern was about leaving behind a normal school life for five years; because I think education is one of the most important things in life if you want to thrive instead of survive. When I grow up, I hope to go to a good college like UCLA and then become a builder. Saying good-bye yesterday, it was a very hard day for both of us, for many reasons.
Before yesterday, my final day, I hadn’t realized how hard it was actually going to be to say good-bye. Telling the teachers and staff at school that the day was my last, I felt freed and relieved from all the major coursework and homework of six periods a day.
School’s Out Forever . . . Bryce and Trent get their walking papers.
Some of the teachers were hard to say good-bye to and some were a piece of cake. My woodshop teacher, Mr. Lehman, was the hardest above all the teachers to bid my farewell. Woodshop was my favorite class. I loved making projects out of wood and shaping wood into many things. Because of my woodshop experience, when I grow up I think I would like to build houses. The saddest feeling was leaving my friends and the many other great relationships that I’d made these past eighteen months at Cabrillo. As a result of our sailing trip, I am going to miss the experience of going to a school dance or participating in school spirit days, things I will now never get a chance to do. But most of all, I’ll miss creaming my adversaries in daily matches of Kendama!
There are also things that I’m happy about. For instance, I’m glad I won’t have to be so confused, forced to sit in an uncomfortable chair for six hours, excluding the time when I got to hang out with my friends for lunch. One thing I don’t like about the kids in Ventura is that they are a lot more judgmental than my classmates in Los Angeles were. They judge what you wear, act like, how you look, talk, walk, what you do for sports, and almost anything you can think of, including how you do your hair. Back in my hometown of Westchester, the kids didn’t care what you did, what you wore, or how you acted. They just cared about how you flirt with girls and how popular you are. (Just for your information, I was really popular in my LA school.)
My most favorite and least favorite day in Ventura will be the day I left school, the day that I left classrooms behind but the day that my classmates said good-bye. They made me feel appreciated, looked up to, and that I will forever be well remembered. This was a very different experience than that of my last day at El Segundo Middle School, where I left many great friends too. On that day, everyone acted mellow, like my leaving for five years was no big deal. They weren’t as openly selfless as my classmates in Ventura. For this and many other reasons, Cabrillo will always hold a warm place in my heart!!!
Bryce monitors surf conditions in front of the Ventura Yacht Club.
Driving home from Cabrillo Middle School in our minivan, Leslie became so overcome with emotion that I asked that I drive. It would be the last day of school for Bryce and Trent. The boys started the mid-December morning somewhat excited by the prospect of bailing on traditional school, at least for awhile. After the office handed Bryce and Trent their sign-off papers, we were off on an administrative scavenger hunt to collect the the required signatures. First stop, the library where the boys had to drop off their text books, affirm they hadn’t any outstanding library books, and capture the first of many approval signatures for the day. Five different teachers would need to assign them their grades, assessing the work they’d completed thus far in the given subject. The last signature would be that of a school councilor.
School’s Out Forever . . . Bryce and Trent get their walking papers.
Throughout the day, the experience was version of a similar story: the teacher in each class announced to the classmates the boys’ departure and wished them safe travels, some read aloud the letter I provided, explaining why the boys were leaving and the voyage we planned to do. One of Trent’s teachers even encouraged the classmates to write a personal farewell note to Trent. By the end of the day, the boys were emotional too, surprised by the number of classmates they had found to be caring friends, and the degree to which those friends expressed sorrow in light of their pending departure. The boys were deeply touched. Even Bryce, who tends to react more stoically and nonchalant about such matters, expressed how much his classmates meant to him.
With the hope of sharing our experience, several Cabrillo Middle School science teachers and a top administrator discussed with us the possibility of connecting their classrooms with us, introducing the Cabrillo students, possibly via Skype or FaceTime, to other classrooms from other countries–a service we’re excited to provide, facilitating a cultural exchange that we feel is important for young people, allowing us to share a part of Bryce and Trent’s experiences with kids their age. We hope to make something wonderful and inspiring happen. Additionally we take with us more than our fond memories as we were given by the school a small token with which to photograph around the world. Fittingly, the symbol of Cabrillo Middle School is that of a mariner.
Bryce and Trent hold the Cabrillo Middle School Honor Roll emblem we plan to photograph in exotic locations.
Ventura’s Cabrillo Middle School was good to Bryce and Trent, as was Pierpont Elementary School and Miss Bird to Trent. The boys are posting the experience of leaving Cabrillo, their last day. Trent is publishing his first, Bryce’s is soon to follow.
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