HaHa Day 3

On the morning radio net, the Poobah suggested that everyone make an early departure from San Quintin. Winds and seas were expected to build in the afternoon, but were predicted to be more moderate farther south. Unfortunately, our departure was delayed by the discovery of a significant amount of water in the bilge. Janet and Paul reported that the bilge pump ran a lot during the night (I couldn't hear it in the v-berth). By morning the automatic float switch had failed and the bilge was filling with water. The first clue was salt water standing in the bottom of the kitchen sinks. As the boat got lower in the water the sink drains had dipped below the waterline. The bilge pump still functioned in manual mode, which allowed us to pump out the water, and no harm was done to the boat, but I did not want to put to sea without finding the leak.

I suspected a loose stuffing box, but a quick survey disclosed evidence of a leak near the anti-siphon valve in the engine's raw water system. I also noticed not one but two broken hose clamps on the exhaust hose connecting the engine exhaust manifold and the muffler box, and worried water (and maybe exhaust) might be leaking there as well. I thought the stuffing box was most likely culprit because water had obviously come in during the night, when the engine was not running. But I took time to fix the leaks in the raw water system and replace the broken clamps on the exhaust system anyway.

Getting to the stuffing box required disconnecting and moving the four lead-acid batteries in the main battery bank. The battery boxes are under the cockpit right where a body needs to be to reach the propeller shaft. I eventually got my hand on the stuffing box nuts, and found it was indeed loose and leaking. I snugged it up until the flow was reduced to an occasional drip, and that solved the problem. While I worked on the leak problem, Janet did a great job sewing up some tears in the suncover on the genoa.

By then it was almost noon, and the wind had built during the morning. I could hear it whistling in the rigging as I put away my tools. We were the last boat in the fleet to leave San Quintin and, as it turned out, we should have just stayed. We set our mainsail with a single reef, and headed off on a broad reach, but before we were even out of the bay we were feeling overpowered by the wind, so we put in a second reef and unrolled only a bit of the genoa.

As we entered the open seas, the wind was over 25 knots and the waves kept building. The wave action soon overwhelmed the ability of the autopilot to hold the boat on course, and we yawed from side to side on the high waves, creating a danger of an accidental jibe. I took the helm and managed to hold the stern quarter of the boat to the swells, but it often required full rudder to do so, as the boat surfed down the steep waves. According to the GPS we were regularly hitting 13 knots during the downward slides. The waves loomed up high behind us. As they lifted the boat, we could look down into the deep troughs--it was a long way down. I was tiring, and the crew was no longer having fun, so we decided to seek shelter again after only a few hours. Luckily we were only ten miles north of a spit of land called Punta Baja which could shelter us from the northwest swells. We headed for it.

The last few miles were a challenge as the wind and waves continued to build. By the end the waves appeared to be more than 20 feet from crest to trough, with steep sides. As we entered shallow water near the coast, the wave crests began to break. We later learned that Mahalo, a Cal 40, had a wave break over the stern that damaged their dodger and filled their cabin with water. We managed to avoid being pooped, but probably more due to luck than skill, as I had to focus my full attention ahead and was not able to look back to see where and when the crests were breaking.

We were then running downwind on starboard tack with only the double-reefed main up. In retrospect, we might have been better off to have dropped the main entirely and run with just the headsail. Once we were out in the waves, however, there was no easy way to drop the main. To relieve wind pressure on the sail enough to drop it, I would have needed to turn into the wind, which would have been dangerous. I would also have needed to send someone to the mast to release the halyard, which I was reluctant to do in those conditions.

To get behind Punta Baja, we needed to jibe the mainsail and head to port. We timed the jibe well, completing it while we were in a trough, which reduced the wind pressure. We went tearing past Punta Baja through big swells and eventually reached the protection of the point. The wind was still blowing hard, with gusts over 35 knots, but we were out of the big seas and were able to anchor securely and rest.

Sheltered behind Punta Baja we found seven other HaHa boats: Black Dragon, Delfice,Interlude, Lilia Del Mar, Moon Dance, Sea Siren and Stray Cat. We were soon joined by Passage II, which had a broken goose neck. The VHS chatter suggested that everyone was relieved to be tucked out of danger. Like us, most of the others were a bit rattled by the heavy weather. We dubbed the group the Punta Baja Yacht Club and promised to have t-shirts made when (and if) we reach Cabo.

Steve on Black Dragon helped calm everyone down by organizing a formal radio net and giving us reports on weather files he had downloaded by SSB. He was a thoughtful voice of reason in a tense situation, which was greatly reassuring. He earned the title of Commodore of the Punta Baja Yacht Club.

Part of the concern arose from the terrible news that one of the HaHa boats had been lost. A boat called J World had reportedly struck a whale, which damaged the hull so seriously that the boat sank. Luckily the crew was rescued by the Coast Guard--but the HaHa's 15 year record of safe passages was now broken. We spent a lot of time talking about the relative hull strength of various boats. It felt better to be on a heavily built cruiser like Sabbatical than a fragile J-Boat.

All the boats had some damage--mostly torn sails. The most serious damage was to Passage II. Their keel had gotten tangled in a long fishing line earlier in the day. In the process of getting loose they had accidentally jibed in the strong winds, which broke the metal fitting that connects the boom to the mast--a serious problem indeed. Our assessment of Sabbatical showed more tearing in the luff of the jib. Also, one of the plastic cars that hold the mainsail to the mast was broken, as well as two of the cars that hold the main to the boom. I had no replacements, but it was not a disabling problem--we could still sail to Cabo.