C30 on the high seas (long)
Chuck,A couple of suggestions. Before committing to a trip to Bermuda, go out and play in the Gulf Stream for awhile and then go back to NJ. It will be a good shake down cruise and you will identify all the places that leak water into the cabin and any other items that need attention. Also before you go do as I did and completely tear out and reinstall your steering system. Take off the binnacle, quadrant and all sheaves. Replace the cables, grease the sheaves, clean the quadrant and check the mounting of the rudder. Then reassemble, if you have a trip like mine you’ll be glad you did.Get on the C30 email list. We currently have 370 C30 owners on the list sharing experiences, tips, tricks and answering questions. To join go to: http://members.sailnet.com/email_lists/index.cfm and then select owner lists. I wouldn’t call our trip down the California coast an ‘ordeal’ but it was an exciting trip. We left San Francisco bay early Saturday morning July 1st and headed south in light wind and calm seas. We even flew the spinnaker for awhile. As the afternoon wore on the wind and seas gradually increased. About an hour after stowing the spinnaker we put in the first reef. During the first watch after dark we added the second reef and later rolled up part of the jib.The wind and seas were on the starboard quarter and were way too strong for the autopilot to handle. Steering was a very active process requiring both hands on the wheel. In the dark under the overcast we had no reference to steer by other than the compass and the best we could do is keep the heading between 150 and 180 degrees. Each wave would push the stern of the boat to port while the bow swung to starboard. As the boat headed up the seas would smack the side sending spray over everything. By the time the boat responded to the helm you would overshoot your desired heading and go too deep until the jib started luffing. (Thank God for the preventer). If you were trying to sleep below you could tell what the helmsman was doing by the noise. The wind got very loud as we swung too high to the wind and the whole boat shook with the luffing jib when pointed too low. After a 3 hour shift at the wheel you were exhausted and ready to be relieved. Then you couldn’t sleep when you hit the berth because of the noise and the way the boat was tossed about. Towards dawn when there was a little light and you could see better. A quick glance behind was a scary sight as the tops of the waves were way over your head and at least as high as the spreaders. Looking forward (it still required full concentration and all your strength to keep the compass in that 30 degree range) you could see the bow light reflected off the back of the wave that just passed as the stern rises higher and higher until you were pointed downward into a very deep trough. Then as the wave passed underneath the boat levels before the bow rises and continues to rise until nothing but sky is visible through the pulpit. This continues hour after hour in a steady rhythm only broken by a cross swell that broadsides the boat about every 15 minutes thoroughly soaking you and every part of the boat.By the next morning we had covered 146 miles and were now almost 50 miles offshore. Time to jibe. One of us went forward (tethered, and crawling) to remove the preventer, then came back to handle the main. Another person was on the jib and I steered. We waited until we were deep in a trough then jibed quickly without problem.This continued throughout the morning and by afternoon the wind lightened and the seas gradually eased but at a much slower rate. By evening the reefs had been shaken out and the last half of my 120% had been unfurled. At dark it was like a switch had been thrown as there was now NO wind and the sea flattened completely. Time to fire up the motor. Also now the autopilot has no trouble steering and the watch just has to sit there and pay attention.Now on my off watch I slept very well, as I was exhausted and sleep deprived. At least I was sleeping well until Jackie woke me up by yelling “Rick, Help!” from the wheel. I went on deck to see what’s the problem an hour before it was my watch. The fog rolled in and she can’t see a thing. Should she stop? I decide to keep going as it could be foggy for days and it’s just as easy to get run down standing still as making progress. I joined her on deck to help keep lookout but all there was to see was my nav lights reflected back from the mist.The fog continued all night long as we rounded Point Conception and entered the Santa Barbara Channel. When daylight came the fog thinned to the point where we could see 1/4 to 1/2 mile. Radar would have sure been nice. Especially when crossing the shipping lanes. We continued to motor for 26 hours until we reached Ventura. We went from SF to Ventura in 55.5 hours, covering about 350nm at an average 6.3 kts and we didn’t break any gear. Not too bad for a Catalina 30.