Sam Black enters Kona Kai

Preface: The story of Kona Kai sailing down from Maine to North Carolina in the fall of 2011 shouldn't be stretched too thin but neither should the story be too short. I will post parts of the story here, not necessarily in chronological order (until the work is done), but to make a start I will publish parts of it before the whole text is written and all the photos are edited. 

Terror of the fish: Bro gearing up.

Kona Kai was not on collision course, but out there, at night on the Atlantic Ocean, the distance of two, three nautical miles seems not that much when it comes to a standoff between her 34 feet of fiberglass and aluminum verse the 1,132 feet of pure steel of the RMS Queen Mary 2. Sailing at night can be deceptive, distances are hard to judge in the darkness, but this was for sure: Kona Kai was going down south along the eastern seaboard, coming out of Buzzards Bay, Long Island abeam. She was on a 209° course heading for Cape Hatteras, while the Cunard Line cruise ship was most probably steaming toward New York Harbor, and these course lines would intersect somewhere. The interesting question was when and where.

The RMS Queen Mary 2, here seen during "port birthday" 2006 in Hamburg, Germany (source: Wikipedia)

Just listening to the ongoing VHF radio communication struck the sailors as awesome. Way ahead of Kona Kai sailed a two masted cutter roughly on the same course, out of sight, but their crew was concerned about an unsolicited meeting with the Queen Mary 2 as well. They had radar on board and could estimate the crossing point, so Kona Kai was absolutely safe.

Majestic is an apt word to describe the impression the cruise ship made with her thousands of lights -  bigger than the Titanic, a city of steel, silently floating by, overtaking Kona Kai on port, and slowly taking off, swallowed in its sheer mass by the darkness of the night. Now, except the four men aboard their boat, there were only about a million stars overhead, constellations leading the way. Hardly slowed down by any waves for the bow to plow through, they made good distance that night, everyone enjoying the magnificent silence on their lonely watches.


Kona Kai Gets Entered


The next morning brought uninvited passengers aboard. Just before noon on October 23rd, 2011, the crew saw them both, swirling around our vessel, not sure if they should dare to enter. One of them finally gave in and favored a safe place on the foredeck over the threatening death by drowning. Just some minutes though, until one sailor came forward slowly to see what was going on and to take a picture of her. The poor soul was so stressed out that the little sparrow went airborne again and took off, probably to her sure death since we were about 50 nautical miles offshore.

Being too afraid of the crew, she took off just a moment after landing - not a wise decision 50 miles offshore.

Not so Sam Black. He landed with a visible impact on the starboard side of the cockpit. Panting and wobbling, plumes fluffed against the wind, the little sparrow could hardly keep his eyes open. "Shy" was obviously not a word in his book, and as far as hunger was concerned, there was no reason to refuse some sesame seeds and cracked peanuts the crew promptly offered. The bird even came onto their palms to grab a bite. Then, after about 15 minutes, the beast kicked back to proper life.

Fattening up after a long flight: Sam appreciates sesame seeds and cracked peanuts.

As soon as Sam was fed and watered, he hopped right down the companionway to explore the innards of his ark. The chart table featured a good lookout position and it was a short way from there to the quarterberth. It was not used for the crew's rest, but to store sails, electronics, pots and pans and everything else the crew didn't want between their feet. Sometimes the waves would rock everything in there back and forth, metal screeching, wood moaning, a life threatening commotion. But a real explorer doesn't flinch from going into the unknown. He respects danger and conquers it. So it was logically consistent that Sam chose this very place to sleep, climbing deep into the darker parts of the berth, where nobody could reach or even see him.

Moving in: Sam inspects the quarterberth - his new sparrow-cave - from the chart table.

The four sailors sat together and knitted their brows and stroked their beards, well, the two of them who had beards, and wondered where this bird might have come from. No bird of this size, they reckoned, would make it that far off shore on its own. Probably he made it over from the Queen Mary 2 the night before and simply tried to keep airborne until he discovered Kona Kai. That's what the sailors concluded and agreed upon. A hitchhiker on the seven seas, jumping ship whenever he felt the urge. Anyway, down there in his very berth Sam slept, safe and sound.

"Shy" is not a word in Sam's text book. Here he pays Rob a visit.

A Kingdom for a Name

The crew were not even sure Sam Black was a sparrow, but a wildlife photographer confirmed this later after seeing these photos and browsing all of her bird books. She was sure that it was a sparrow, but couldn't pinpoint what exact rendition. So she called it a LBJ. LBJ? Yes, was the answer, a Little Brown Job, as birders call them.

LBJs - birders call them Little Brown Jobs. But that's no matching name for this dude, here pulling the author's leg.

Anyway, he looked quite dark, and he was adventurous. So the sailors stirred up some Dark & Stormies, and reminisced about some pirates to find an appropriate name for the bird who entered ship. Blackbeard a.k.a. Edward Teach came to their minds, who lost his head just off the Carolina coast. The name of the Disney figure Capt. Jack Sparrow was mentioned, and there they were, late at night: Sam Black just seemed an appropriate name. And so they went down below and followed the little tweet into their respective berths and into dreamland. Alas, one lonely sailor stood watch at the wheel, watching the North Star and Orion and the Big Dipper and the Small Dipper and all the other wonderful figures up on the firmament, telling their stories for so many centuries.



Gone Fishing

The next morning brought new excitement for Sam and the sailors. Not only did they have the best ship's cook aboard they could imagine. They also got the most ambitious ship's cook they could wish for, so ambitious that he wanted to realize a plan unheard of: for every meal during their travels, he would prepare something different, not serving a single dish twice. Not even for breakfast, no, sir. And so the crew on Kona Kai had one food fest after another for two weeks in a row. The only downside was that Bro spent way too much time preparing meals and hardly ever saw the sun or stood at the wheel.

Hooked! Now comes the hard part - reeling in.

All the sailors loved fish, and there was a big hooraaaaah, when a skipjack tuna caught the hook at the end of the trawling fishing line. Bro fought the fish for quite a while, and because the sailboat was storming forward on a reach, it was hard work to reel the skipjack in. Finally Bro brought him alongside and Rob lifted him aboard with the help of a net.

Landing the catch.	Still hooked on a pink lure.
This one will feed four sailors.	Shimmering in all colors.

Bro thanks Poseidon and kisses the skipjack goodbye!

The fish's skin was shimmering in all colors of the rainbow - blue, yellow, purple - and changing every couple of seconds. This size would feed four hungry sailors, enough for an appetizer and an entree as well. Bro was happy now that he had sacrificed all the ouzo to Poseidon, thanked him, kissed the skipjack goodbye and started cutting fillets on a special fillet table. This is one well equipped chef!

Fillet and release: every chef travels with his knives, but only really well equipped ones bring their own rail fillet table.

After the bloody work of gutting and cutting was done, Bro took a well deserved nap. Sam hopped along, curious as ever and was keen to see more action. But this was a time to rest. Later there was a time to eat.

A well deserved nap - but Sam is always thirsty for more action.

"How about some sushi/sashimi?" joked Janko, hoping that he could outsmart the chef at least once. "Hmm, not only did I bring my wok aboard," quipped Bro. "I also have rice, mirin, wasabi and tobiko, so I could make sticky rice and produce some nice rolls. Let's see what else is available and I'll come up with something." Sure enough we had some sake with our rolls. Arigato, Bro-san! And just to give it yet another twist, the rest of the tuna was broiled and served for dinner Livornese style, with tomatoes, white wine, capers, olives, bay leaves, and garlic. Yum!

Sushi at night - captain's delight!

Are We Sinking?

The next day brought an unpleasant surprise, when one of the sailors routinely checked the bilge for water. Not only was there some, but the bilge was overfilled, water slamming around the floor of the boat. Kona Kai was taking in water! About 150 miles offshore, that was nothing to take easy, and the sailors immediately made sure that their life saving equipment was at the ready. They swarmed out and checked for leaks all along the hull, but nobody could remember that the vessel had hit anything. So what was the reason?

"I hope it is not the rudder," worried Capt. John. "If it is the rudder shaft, we have a serious problem." The rudder shaft is a weak point in every seagoing vessel, since it is almost always fully submerged, and it is a moveable part which has to be absolutely watertight - in cold storms as well as in hot doldrums. One can imagine this is not easy to repair, even in a safe harbor, much less on the open sea.

Capt. John decided to go down into the engine room and to inspect the rudder shaft. But we were not on the Queen Mary 2, and though John is quite slender, he is way taller than 6 feet. The only way of getting himself in was that he folded together like a contortionist. Afterward he needed help getting out - the other sailors had to pull him backward through the hull until he could unfold himself again into the cockpit. [So, if you ever want to get rid of your captain, just persuade him to inspect the rudder house. But I swear we love this one and would never let him get stuck down there.]

As soon as Capt. John disappeared into the vault, Sam showed up, hopped down below and paid close attention to the labors of the captain. Even when we pulled him up again, the curious sparrow decided to further scrutinize the engine room, and the crew waited for more than half an hour before the bird resurfaced and they finally could close the engine room hatch again. Luckily, the water didn't come in along the rudder shaft. So from where did it leak?

Resurfaced from the engine room: Capt. John, fingers bruised and head oiled, studies the engine manual.

The answer was quite simple: The stern of this elegant double ender vessel had a compartment to store gas cans. To avoid the risk of an explosion due to leaking cans, this stowing room has a little vent hole as low as possible, just above the waterline. The crew had packed this compartment with gas cans, diesel canisters, diving gear, hoses, cables, and last but not least the inflatable life saving raft. Two of the sailors were built quite portly, and when the whole crew sat in the cockpit, poor Kona Kai was just too tail-heavy - the vent hole turned into a water hole. And Sam was probably the straw on the camel's back, so the portly sailors blamed it on the sparrow. Relocating some gear toward more forward parts of the boat solved this issue for good and everybody relaxed.

Capt. John and Sam relax over a cup of coffee after the leak is found.

Off to New Horizons


The next morning was more quiet than usual. At times the sailors weren't sure if Sam was still alive, or squished to death in his berth filled with all sorts of boat gear, or if he was aboard at all, since once in a while he took off to the mast top for a farther view. After two and a half days of continuous excitement, the sailors were used to setting their feet most carefully on the ground not to flatten their little companion, but maybe Sam had just taken off to new horizons. He might have spotted another boat far away the crew couldn't see from down below in their cockpit. At least when they cleaned out the boat at their final destination, there was no sign of Sam. That made all the sailors smile, since they deemed him safe and free and on his way. A hitchhiker on the seven seas, jumping ship whenever he felt the urge. Arr, matey, take good care and fare well!

Staring at the sea, Sam will take off shortly to new horizons and other ships he can enter.

For more about the trip see the Map of the Voyage of Kona Kai.

ME 2 NC

Maine to North Carolina, that's on the fall program. Four sailor dogs will leave Yarmouth, ME, aboard the fine cutter "Kona Kai", a Crealock 34 by Pacific Seacraft on Oct 17th. The plan is to head down to Cape Cod and through the Cape Cod Channel, maybe dropping a hook in Cuttyhunk for latest provisions, and then heading down south. After passing Delaware Bay and Chespeake Bay, we'll head towards the Outer Banks and Cape Hatteras. Home port of "Konai Kai" is Raleigh, NC, and our port of call is Beaufort, NC. That makes a trip along nine US states on the coast line, the total mileage depends on our course though.

At this point it is unclear if we take course to the Bahamas and then hang a Ralphie to go back to shore, or if we hug the coastline of the Eastern Seaboard to avoid fighting the current. In Norfolk, VA, needs another decision to be made: Depending on the weather, we would either go around the Outer Banks, where the brothers Orville and Wilbur Wright performed the first motorized flight at Kitty Hawk - or go through the Intracoastal waterway, which promises nice land- and seascapes, but is less of a sailing experience. Though - it might be nice to sail the Albemarle and Pamlico Sounds. And it seems to be a safer way to go south in the fall than passing Diamond Shoals and the "Grave Yard of the North Atlantic". It is estimated that between 600 and 1000 ships sunk here. So it's worth considering the route carefully.

Kona Kai, a Crealock 34 by Pacific Seacraft

Sounds mouthwatering, right? We'll spend 10 to 12 days on this fine oceangoing passagemaker with two Atlantic crossings under her belt (specs here). Considered one of Americas best 100 products of its kind in the world by Fortune Magazine twice, we are happy to have the reviewer himself aboard - and he doubles as menu wizard. Plenty of articles and reviews about the sturdiness and cruising qualities of Pacific Seacrafts can be found on the pages of Cruising Yachts Inc - don't miss the links on the right column, especially the test of Yachting Magazine and why world record holder Sue Wilson has chosen the Crealock 34 for her Pacific crossing. More reasons why to chose this boat by Dave and Rhonda Mancini.

We look forward to excellent companionship, gorgeous fall cruising, great fishing, exceptional food (including Rheinischer Sauerbraten!) and a wonderful experience. Depending on my network connection, I might post some cell phone pictures and short texts from underway, otherwise I'll give you a wrapup some time after the trip. Don't expect miracles though, it might be easily Thanksgiving before that. I'll keep you posted. Cross your fingers for us, for fair winds and following seas!

We Want Fish!

My Sowester makes me look a bit like a Gloucester Fisherman, doesn't it?
Bluefish is an abundant and ubiquitous species in the Long Island Sound - except when I am aboard the C&C 30 "Mistral IV". Two cocktail blues was the meager harvest over the course of three days, but at least they were expertly lured, caught, filleted, grilled, prepped and served by Bro.

Originally the trip should lead us from Larchmont, NY, along the Long Island Sound to the Thimble Islands in Connecticut, but unfortunately the weather denied us this pleasure. Seeing nothing bit rain ahead, we cut the trip short to save us from being rained on for two days in a row with no dry time at the end of the trip.

The first day we set out from Larchmont Yacht Club to sail to Zieglers Cove, a hidden gem on the Connecticut shoreline, with public moorings provided by the town of Darien, CT, in this little nook which surrounding land mass land belonged to the king of baking powder William Ziegler. Moderately protected from wind and waves, we nestled between rocks in this mosquito paradise. After a day with SW winds 5-10 kts we met with our friends to raft up with the cat rigged Nonsuch 30 "Aloki" (pic, pic) and the sloop Bénéteau 42 "Allumer" for the combo of Asian chicken and glass noodle salad and German Bratwurst from the grill. Metaxa and Ouzo were moderately consumed and after hours every boat picked her own mooring. There were about a dozen power boats with families around, everybody having a little party - it was labor day weekend after all! I strongly recommend to stay in this bay during the off-season, September and October are wonderful if you want to be on your own here - as we have done it before.

Day two started out pretty windless, just in the early afternoon the wind picked up to about SW 10 kts. We crossed the Long Island Sound to sail to Long Island's North Shore and raft up with our friends in Port Jefferson, NY. The geography offers beautiful anchorages right behind the harbor entry. Shallow and badly charted, the private navigation aids help a lot - DO NOT rely on the latest NOAA charts since they are quite inaccurate here. A lot of dredging was going here on since the last soundings a while ago. But once you are in and were able to avoid the ferries between Bridgeport and Port Jeff, you are in safe and quiet waters.

Again we rafted up with "Aloki" and "Allumer" and after some lamb sausage and octopus salad, Bro served first the grilled bluefish with a dill-mustard sauce, and then a "Germanoid" Sauerbraten with red cabbage and sweet potatoes, accompanied by an American Gewurztraminer and Bitburger Pilsener. Coffee, Rum and cookies put the lid on. Everybody dropped his own anchor afterwards. Unfortunately we didn't see the town of Port Jeff the next morning, because fat grey clouds came close pretty quickly and we decided not to lose more time than necessary before our departure. Ok, next time. Looks interesting enough to make landfall for a cuppa Joe.

Day three meant the end of our original plans to fork through the Thimbles. The National Weather Service predicted two full days of heavy rain ahead, and nobody wanted to face that except Stephen and Barbara on "Allumer", who decided to spent one day at the Brewer's Marina in Westbrook along the Duck Islands Roads, just a tad east of the Thimble Islands. "Aloki" wanted to hunker down in the sand hole at the tip of Oyster bay. The "Bronco Buster" crew on "Mistral IV" decided to return home, facing mostly winds of 15-20, in gusts up to 25 kts SW. So we were in for a choppy trip home, interrupted by some good lunch (pasta with pesto), when we stopped dead in the middle of the sound, took down the jib and heaved-to while boiling up our meal. The selected heave-to setup conveniently carried us a bit upwind, so the next leg was much easier. I just love it when I have space to fall off to my convenience and don't have to pinch to reach my next waypoint.

Body and mind fortified, we made the wise decision to bind the first reef on the mainsail and keep about 20 percent of the jib in, but we were still good for a top speed of about 7 kts upwind (though overground with and incoming tide). Coming home to the LYC showed us once again, how vulnerable the harbor is at SW winds. The boats on the moorings were shaking and rocking and you are well advised to tie your rudder down. The tropical storm Irene, which came through here just a week before, pushed off the protectors of our two mooring lines and nearly chafed one of them through.

But what a bummer - it seemed that the bluefish had their luncheon around the same time as we did, since all our trying to get dinner together were fruitless. But I swear: We'll be back again - and soon! Bluefish beware!


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