Will the Diesel Last?

Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to be returning home on fumes, but that prospect is looking more and more likely now. The source of our woes dates back to the seventh day of the trip when the trades failed us a couple degrees south of where I anticipated they would. Then the Pacific High decided to form around us, forcing us to burn diesel and head for its northern edge. After five days of motoring (three more than I had anticipated) we picked up the first traces of a southerly breeze and continued to ride it northeast, skirting the edge of the high. When a low pressure system began to churn west of us it became clear the high would break down and we could begin sailing a direct course for San Diego. Before long the low brought us gale conditions and unfortunately we weren't able to make as much easting as I had hoped. Thus when the low moved on to the east the Pacific High started to rebuild around us. This necessitated another two days of motoring before we reached the east edge of the high where we were assaulted with near gale conditions. Again we weren't able to make as much easting as I hoped during the heavy blow, leaving us with 275 miles to San Diego when the wind failed us this morning and I was forced to fire up the diesel burner. After checking to see how much diesel was left in the tank, and dumping in the 20 gallons we had left on deck, we now have approximately 40 gallons of fuel to cover the final 275 miles, which would leave us with nothing more than fumes (at best) on arrival. Thus we continue to pray for winds while at the same time enjoying the ease and comfort of smooth seas after a rough couple days and trying and clean up/dry out the disaster that has become our home. We haven't seen the sun for days, and the overcast is so thick I can't imagine it breaking up before we reach the coast. As always this has put a damper on my mood. Perhaps more than most people my emotions and moods are tied to the weather, and prolonged periods of gloom lead to unproductive, lazy days for me.

Last night brought about perhaps the longest night watch of my life. As soon as darkness descended on the scene our dying breeze began shifting westward, making it all the more difficult to keep the sails full. Kevin was struggling a bit and largely to make up for my missing the first 90 minutes of my morning watch, I took over the helm more than an hour before my watch was set to begin. All was well for the first couple hours as I alternated between hand-steering in lulls and using the autopilot during the light puffs of wind; but after my first two hours the autopilot lost power and refused to turn back on (only after my watch did I realize I had run the batteries to such a low voltage the autopilot couldn't function). This left me with two hours of hand-steering on a slow broad reach with an obnoxious cross-swell leftover from our last bout of wind. During the first half hour I was able to stay awake by finishing up my fourth read through of Robin Lee Graham's "Dove" (a book that was in part responsible for this voyage); but once that was done the wind decided to fail me further and I battled through a long, bitter cold night. As my father climbed up the companionway to relieve me at 0200 the first signs of a grey dawn were creeping into the eastern sky (we remain on Hawaii time for now), and in large-part to save him the misery I had just suffered through I started the engine, magically bringing the autopilot back to life. A few hours of tormented rest followed, and by the time dawn arrived I had yet to get any proper sleep. But alas, signs are everywhere that land is close by, and that thought alone will allow me to suffer through a couple sleepless nights, my sights firmly set on the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow (in this case a motionless bed and a full night's stress-free sleep). The VHF has sparked to life with a constant barrage of chatter from various coast guard stations along the coast, in addition to that of a few naval vessels carrying out live munitions practice today. Last night I listened as the Coast Guard tried to help a boat that had somehow run into the jetty up at Morro Bay and tried to conceive of how such a mishap might happen in this electronic age. (Not the brightest captain, or mechanical failure I suppose.) Daylight has brought my first glimpses of kelp in years, and with it I know my childhood playground is close at hand...so long as the fuel holds.

-July 8--1045
33.34N by 121.53W

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