Singlehanded Sailing Across the Pacific
Just like many of you, I learned to sail here at Spinnaker Sailing School. When I graduated from Basic Coastal Cruising in late 2013, I had difficulty finding a crew to sail with regularly, so I started practicing sailing solo on the Merit 25s. I was hooked and never looked back. I love sailing solo, the joy of being immersed in the elements, the wind, the sea, the technology: it fills me up, body, mind and soul.
Not knowing much about sailing solo, I researched techniques for helming solo and discovered that, right in our San Francisco backyard, we have what is probably the largest organized group of singlehanded sailors in the US: the Singlehanded Sailing Society (SSS). Their website and forum are loaded with resources and friendly people willing to help newbies and old salts alike. They also organize solo races, including one to Hawaii every two years. A seed was planted; in 2016 I started preparing for my journey, which ended quite wonderfully in July 2018.
As I reflect on my journey, I am amazed at the web of relationships and events that enabled me to make a safe landfall in Hawaii. If you’re interested in the blow-by-blow story, I invite you to read my thread on the SSS web site, Interested in a boat for 2018 TransPac, as well as Double Espresso racer news.
Philippe Landing in Hanalei Bay
Video credit: NorCalSailing
Here’s a Summary of my Singlehanded Adventure
The SSS has established solid safety and equipment requirements for the SHTP, to ensure that all skippers will be safe aboard their vessel. As a result, preparing a boat for the race is typically what takes the most time and work, often more than 6 years. Quiet regularly, skippers sign up for the race but cannot make the start. The SHTP this year originally had 27 racers, dropping down to 21 racers two weeks from the start, to 19 just a few days away, and then 3 more skippers bailed out right after the start, leaving 16 boats in contention for the prize.
Personally, having two left feet when it comes to boat projects, I was not willing to go down the path of preparing a boat myself. I opted to invest in a boat that was ready to go, which would allow me to focus on sailing instead of time-consuming boat projects. In 2016, I was referred to someone who had prepared an Olson 30 for that year’s PacCup. The boat was in great condition, with brand spanking new standing rigging and much of the equipment that the SHTP requires. In January 2017, I became Double Espresso‘s new owner.
I kept the boat in dry storage down in Santa Cruz. Dry storage, as opposed to in a marina, refers to storing the boat on a trailer and hoisting the boat in and out of the water every time you go sailing. A mile off the coast of Santa Cruz, the offshore water and offshore winds provide great conditions to familiarize myself with open water sailing. That spring, I started sailing in blistering conditions: winds blowing 25-30 knots and 10-14 foot waves. Being a complete newbie I was very vocal, asking for advice from anyone who would listen. One conversation led to another and I was referred to Skip Allan, a phenomenal offshore sailor. He coached me on the race and helped me make critical choices, in particular with regards to sail plan choices, decision-making, and navigation. I also need to mention Brian Boschma of Pelagic Autopilot, who was very helpful during my preparation, sharing his knowledge freely and generally being very patient with me. I cannot possibly list all the people who helped me on this journey; what I can say is that it pays to ask for advice all around you. People are willing to help and you never know what may come out of one conversation.
One of Double Espresso‘s weaknesses was the electrical system; an SSS member was adamant that I get a gas generator, which I acquired at the last minute. This proved essential to my passage.
Fast forward to June 23rd: I was in a very happy, relaxed state of mind when the race started. I felt prepared and enthusiastic about what was to come. For the most part, the weather for the passage was predicted to be excellent, except for a Southerly surge the next day, which would cause a large zone of very light wind slightly off the coast. Boats that got trapped would likely stay in there for 18-36 hours, not a great prospect for the beginning of a race. As I set out, my goal was to move west as fast as I could. In doing so I could see about 4 boats pulling ahead of me. On Sunday 24th at about 3am, I got stuck in the wind hole and my spirits dropped. For a while I thought the race was over for me, but I bounced back and tried to harness apparent wind to sail northwest as much as I could. That strategy paid off, getting me out of the hole about 4 hours later.
On the official daily position report, I could see the other boats ahead of me continued to increase their advantage. It soon became apparent that I was not powered enough. On June 25, I poled out my number 2 jib on starboard, with a number 3 on port, and a full main, giving me a little extra oomph. I carried this sail plan for a few days and slowly gained on the four boats ahead of me. On this tack I was getting a little too close to the EPAC High (the major weather feature of transpacific races) and I decided to jibe away late at night on June 28. This ended up as a minor disaster with my #2 wrapped multiple times around the headstay, plus lines all over the boat and in the water. It took me about 2 hours to recover but I managed to keep the boat sailing in the right direction under main alone, minimizing any lost time. Unbeknown to me, this year’s conditions were perfect for my Olson 30 and things were just about to heat up on this tack.
For most of the race the sky was overcast. The solar panels could not keep up with my electrical use, which led me to having to charge the batteries with the gas generator three times over the course, for a total of 12 hours. I’m not sure if you can picture this but it’s not the safest thing to do: run a gas generator on the cabin top of a small sailboat barreling down Pacific swells at up to 14 knots, with water coming over the bow and the deck. It took a lot of babysitting and constant monitoring to ensure I did not lose the generator to Neptune.
On day 6, I moved into the lead. My sail plan proved to be a winner, providing plenty of power for the boat as it surfed down the swells. In general we were doing about 190 miles a day, with an average speed over the course of about 7.9 knots. The flip side of this is that the rest of the fleet started to experience hardware issues, mostly autopilot-related. Several boats in the leading pack dropped out, which rearranged the leader board. At that point I started paying more attention to the daily position reports. The wind became a little light that morning, but I opted against flying a spinnaker, which could have given me an advantage, but I decided to play it safe. I learned after the race, that other skippers tried to fly their spinnakers, but without much success; in retrospect my decision- although difficult to bear- proved to be the right one.
